Too Much Smoke

I've had a lot of smoke blown up my ass over the decades. Too much from pretty much every acquaintance in my life. All guilty, as I am. But never in years spent in the professional arena. Not even jokingly. Always convinced I was a clueless imposter in every assignment and role taken on professionally speaking, I never felt confident enough to attempt to deceive anyone–colleagues or myself. It seemed pointless to even try as I sprinted to learn and apply new concepts, tools and materials making exciting, useful things on every project. Why complicate that small bit of enjoyment in life by bullshitting anyone involved in it? Such smoke would be wasted.

Watching smoke rise from the house as a new load of wood catches still makes me cringe a bit. All that smoke. All that carbon being released. But then I remember my carbon footprint living as I do off-grid is small by comparison to days lived in cities, commuting, working in skyscrapers cooled and heated by mega air conditioning machinery. Toxicity at its worst. Out here the smoke takes on an air of beauty and grace derived from these surroundings and this lifestyle. It's the only smoke around out here. And none of it is making its way up my ass.