don't "touch grass." grass is the office carpet of outside. attune to the wind. grasp at the chaotic flow of the water. share breath with the trees. glimpse the core of Being. live. be alive. you're an animal!! be an animal!! also lawns are ugly!!!
"Touch grass?" This Grass has forgotten the prairie, forgotten the wind of the high plains, and is nothing to me. Touch River beds, wet and dry. Touch Oaks and Pines and maples, Touch mountain stone and desert sand and estuary reeds. Touch thorns in the thicket, snow in the tundra, rocks worn smooth by the years of flooding creeks. They are ephemeral. They are eternal, they are older than you and younger than you and they move through time without marker, making your petty divisions look like ant hills to giants. Find yourself in a dense forest fog and loose all sense of space, drift in the ocean with no land for a thousand miles, lose all bearings on up and down in a merciless blizzard, and then you can tell me my opinions on which market available popcorn machines are "way too involved" and "unnecessarily reasearched".
