All-organic weirdness

Author: A metaphysical entity (Page 20 of 33)

Weekly state: winding.

The crossroads sees a lot of vehicles and people passing by. Some are determined, some are old friends that come by multiple times a day. Some are new, confused. Some are resting before taking on the next road. The crossroads is impartial. It provides choices to different scenarios, outcomes and even timelines. Despite this heavy burden, the crossroads is not valued much.

Various types would tell you that it is just another necessary thing to have in this world. Purists would disagree. I feel humbled by the crossroads, its power and energy.

If looking at a village, new or old, the centre is a crossroads. There will be streets and alleys, paths and benches, all crossing over in that one spot. It is the centre of life. It joins and parts. So forgive me, I am in awe of the crossroads.

This past week I have been winding, winding myself along one of the most beautiful spots on this weird ball floating in space. Curve after curve, no end in sights. Unless! There it was, a crossroad. 3 decisions to have, one to be made. By me? Many would say so. But I am a dreamer, so the crossroads decided for me.

So in life, when winding around corner and curve, up and down, through beauty and vileness, go look for that crossroads and stop winding for a second. Maybe it will bless you with one of the three decision that it will determine on your behalf.

Weekly state: on the chaise-longue.

All day long, on the chaise-longue.

Your dear Papa Shanghai is still out of office, enjoying life’s abundance of spirits. Nonetheless, a new feature in this food stall we call papashanghai.com is cooking on the back burner. But as every soup connoisseur will tell you, it needs to simmer. Stay tuned however for the updates, which will arrive very shortly.

Weekly state: adventurous.

Kevin, the sunflower seed, has come a long way. Since yesterday, when he fell off of a Sunday brunch bun, he has climbed, ran, hid and ventured across the whole cafe. Evading the brooms at the end of the shift and sniffing dogs during busy hours.

Kevin has a mission, to conquer ground. Without a set goal in mind, he wonders whether he will ever want to return to the state of being stuck to a bun.

“What a waste of a perfectly good seed.”, he thought while looking at his colleagues.

They seemed happy, tranquillised, in a state of ignorant bliss. Kevin was much more than that – at least that’s what he thought. For days on end, he discovered new corners of the cafe, saw the wise raisin (the one your dear Papa has told you about on this very page in the “Tales of the knowing”).

Kevin grew disgusted with the idea of ever sticking to a bun, being eaten for nutritional purpose. However, he always wondered why he never encountered another sunflower seed, with the same mission in mind, with a similar hunger for more

Excitement.

Knowledge.

Insight.

Reflection.

Kevin became a legend to the brunch ingredients, to the eggs, the fruits, the cheese and even the ruling elite of the coffee council. But never was he mentioned by the sunflower seeds as they never told much about anything in general, forever in a sedated happiness.

Maybe that is why Kevin has become special and these tales are known.

So rise up and don’t stick to a bun!

Weekly state: skip.

I don’t strut, I don’t stand. I don’t run, I don’t Walk. These days, I skip.

Rising temperatures burnt the last winter away. Bodies are moving faster and slower, back and forth. In the air one second and grounded the next. I am still asking myself what magic the sound of music is.

I have been told that over time, it is possible you forget how to skip. How to leap for a tiny bit. It is truly a tragedy. Whether it be for the reaction to a song, to happiness or out of sheer boredom, a skip can help to elevate the moment, quite literally.

When researching is tragedy, I have come across several people that try their hardest to remember, but fail. Their bodies are not able to reproduce the outburst. Maybe it is their minds that inhibit it. Maybe they have been taught to stop skipping. Who is in charge of this censorship?

Stand up, rise up. Follow along with me and just for a moment, be active, be silly. Skip at a strange time to fight against this societal self-censorship! Skip at the supermarket, skip in a meeting, skip into class, skip to your table reservation. What the hell, skip at a funeral. For all we know, the deceased would have needed a skip.

As for now, see you next time. In the street. Being strange, skipping. Keep being weird.

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