Thread by @Scearpo

Do you approach your life with a Cyclopian focus? Laser beam face melting lung exploding winddrift velocity heralds you now. Today is Monday. Today is a good day. Today is the day you purchase a hammer from a local hardware store. Open your mind for the next 5 minutes, it's time:

First, I want you to think about a specific time in 1993, some of you remember it well as adults, some of you remember blurry DMT style past life reincarnation memories as toddlers, some of you remember dualistic hivemind memories of being your dad's cum and your mom's egg.

Next, I want you to detonate a localized trigger reflex instinct, a great and total pain or an absolute ambrosial pleasure. Nothing in between is allowed, we're working with extremes here. Think of a rapid beat. Elevate your heart rate. Clench your fists. Stare 1000 yards ahead.

You've either stopped breathing or you're breathing heavily. Slow it down now, stabilize. Sink into your chair if you're sitting, glue your skin to your bed or couch if you're resting. If you're standing, feel a deep weight at the top of your head and shift it down to your feet.

I want you to become the bead of sweat travelling down the arm of a tan chalky skinned tribal as he stomps clay ashen soil and chants to the sky. You are filled with salt that will leave an impossibly thin white crispy layer on the ground as you seep your fluid into the Earth.

I want you now to become a tree that grows from sapling to husk in a 30 second timelapse. All manner of clouds, astronomy, weather, and creatures scurry about you like blurry lines, born and deceased in snippets of a moment. You've split a boulder into pieces with your roots.

A mountain rises and falls in the minutes of all human civilization. A photon lives for one thousand years amongst a horde that makes up the period at the end of this sentence. Every one of them carries a morsel of my words through the air, piercing concrete, fiber, and muscle.

If you've continued to read this, I want you to stretch your hands to the highest they can reach. If you're standing, get on your tippy toes while you do. You must be perfectly straight and as stretched out as you can be. Hold it for ten seconds like that and breathe very deeply.

If you have done what I told you, all the energy you sent into the ground has been purified by the molten core of the Earth, mixed into every thought, feeling, and warmth of every single person who has come before you. There is no taint of wickedness, nor boost of joy. All is new

Every regret you've ever felt
Every achievement you've relished
Every sadness that tugs at your soul
Every happiness that has warmed your heart
Every scorn that has wounded you
Every caress that has healed you
Every captivation
Every boredom
All of it, burnt, melted, and reforged

And in that moment of still absolute pointed towerlike posing, with breath in tandem like some blacksmith's bellows, all that energy you've cast into the Earth now rises around you in a helix spiral like two snakes in the Rod of Asclepius, energy in geometric rhythm like DNA.

It culminates at the peak of your fingers and shoots through whatever paltry wood and fiberglass insulation may block the open sky, slipping between the atoms and the metal like tachyons. It spreads into the clouds and the stratosphere, absorbing into cloud and rain.

Of course a silly little Twitter play along isn't going to magically alter the course of your existence forever, nor can you stand in a perfect antennae shape, beaming ground and sky together like some fleshy Yggdrasil of cosmic connection. But for a brief moment, you have.

And as the weeks, months, years pass you by, as every little pet peeve, every scraped knee, every flat tire, every shattered heart, & every weary slog starts to build up, you will always come back to moments purification and oddly scented feelings of newness. A laundry day.