Manure. A Story About Sh*t.

I’m valiantly trying to grow grass in my backyard.

I’m graciously losing that battle. 

Not for lack of research or effort. I’ve aerated the soil, planted the seed, and kept water coming. But most of the yard is still dirt, thanks to my two large dogs who tear it up when they play. That’s not important. 

What is important is the small patches where the new grass grows aggressively. The pattern of mini jungles is peculiar. They’re exactly where my youngest dog, Evie, dug holes that I filled in with dogpoot. Because you have to put it somewhere, and they learn to never dig there again. *Say “dogpoot out loud.” It’s fun. 

Maybe shit is just like that. It’s not really a waste, even if it’s called that by name. We’ve all found ourselves at times holding it, shoveling it, or being in a heap of it. We may not know how we got there, or maybe we know EXACTLY how we got there. 

But we all agree on the existence of shit. We just don’t agree on what to do with it.

Maybe you just didn’t know how to use it when you found some of it in your backyard, bank balance, or waistline. The right plan doesn’t always come when you’re looking at the mirror and asking, “how did I get here?”

But it’s not a waste if you don’t waste it. 

You can learn to use it. And then, you can grow something out of it. It may not be something you thought, but it will be something. And that’s worth accepting that the shit you stepped in, even if it’s your own, can become something important and even crucial for your story and others’ if you do something with it.  

Ate or drank yourself to a place where you’re not happy? Well, now you know the process to get there. Let’s put that knowledge and the scale of change that you’re obviously capable of, towards a different direction and see what happens.

Want help?

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