Dear Farm Journal,
I discern a tectonic shift deep in my crust, a reshaping of my planet, perhaps even my orbit. Grappling with my ego in the reticence of meditation is rearranging my world. I’ve been filled with oceans of polluted perspectives on how a lifetime of study and labor tally up to success, how work is hard and play is fun. I’ve subscribed to the narrative. The notifications vibrate in my awareness, but it’s brought me no joy. This mindset is barren ground. I’m cultivating the inner terraces, reflecting the soil rejuvenation of each garden we rebuild. Now, I can rest in a conscience cleared of cultural noise, knowing I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to do at this moment. The plants tell us where the soil is poor, and the same seed will jump for joy in fertile ground.

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