These days are numbered. No, I don’t mean little numerals in the corner. I mean the way these days are will not be the way they are.

Your days are numbered, day.

Sweeping my patio this morning I had the thought I have often had while sweeping the patio that the forest wants to build a floor and humans reject this. Humans do not want a forest floor. Humans want everything from nature to be gone. At least some of them do anyway.

Everything about the forest floor, even though it is shed leaves and needles, insect larvae and roly poly bugs, is alive. It is constantly shifting and building, becoming Earth, creating an ever evolving home for life. It is life.

The popular style in buildings and homes is “clean lines.” What this means is as far from nature and forest floors as possible. Not a speck of dirt. Every corner completely barren. No insects. No life. If there are plants, they serve an aesthetic purpose. They are fully slaves in the human design of the space. They are not free to be plants. They cannot drop leaves or allow insects and bugs to crawl on their leaves. They wait, trapped, for humans to bring them water, to allow in light. These building are anything but alive.

The glass and cement building is anti-life. It is anti-forest floor. It is everything the forest floor is not. It is a dead place.

I am going to find a way to make the patio not something that must be swept of the forest floor, find some way to make the forest floor the place to spend time with life and not against it. I have a vision of it in my head. I will cocreate with the planet to make it what it should be and not what it has become.

As an aside to this, I have stressed out skin. Maybe it comes from living in death culture. In fact, I’m sure it does. The stress of being a mammal in capitalism, watching the hearses drive by every day covered in the bodies of the murdered forest. Seeing everyone rolling by in their metal-encased chairs on wheels belching exhaust or plugging into an electric grid powered by coal or other equally destructive processes ignoring the dead bodies these chairs have left destroyed by the side of the road, spending their lives ignoring the death all around them. I could go on and on. All of it leads to stressed out skin.

I went to a big box hardware store a couple of weeks ago. I was looking for little fences to protect my garden boxes from the cats who live with me that like to use them for toilets (Don’t even get me going that I need a box to plant the things to eat because that is how life is in this world. They are also my own plant slaves (but at least they are allowed to lose leaves and grow plant floors and have insects crawling on them.) It is preferable to buying the food from an industrial producer.). The thing that struck me about entering the garden section was that it was full of methods to kill everything. Pesticides. Herbicides. Murder all around. Gardening: a thing that is supposed to be about growth and life is full of death in death culture. Again, no wonder I have stressed out skin.