My heart overflows with love for those who have not yet ascended, however, it soars even higher when I think of how wonderful we are.

So Grateful to Be Better Than You

It’s 7am, and while most mothers are slurping on their coffees like a bunch of overcaffeinated sheep, I have been up for a full 3 hours and have filled my cup with the delicate notes of gently roasted dandelion root with a splash of home-pressed cashew cream. This is just one of the many ways in which we are not the same.

Far be it for me to judge another mother, but I simply don’t understand how you can expect your family to not act like hellions when you feed them that overprocessed garbage for breakfast, fun-shaped grains just swimming in a sea of stolen animal lactate – if you want to give your child’s digestive system a big “fuck you,” I assure you that you’re on the right path. This is why Xander, Meadow and I only eat breakfasts that will fuel us though the day. Big handfuls of foraged berries and dirt is the true breakfast of champions, followed by a solid hour of laying in the leaves while Wim Hoff breathing- allowing those microbes to sail into our microbiome and help us to be the best versions of ourselves we can possibly be. It’s truly our gift to the world.

While you and yours flock to suckle the lumpy, pus-filled tits of capitalism in anticipation of the holiday season, me and mine will be doing as the Lord intended – smiling gleefully as we collect pinecones to dip in turmeric as gifts for our loved ones before we march on into the kitchen to enjoy the robust glory of sugar-free vegan flaxseed cookies. Before we eat, we express our gratitude for the land, and for how awakened we are compared to the rest of you fools. My heart overflows with love for those who have not yet ascended, however, it soars even higher when I think of how wonderful we are.

The other day I caught sweet Meadow trying to watch the TV screens in the naturopath’s office, and while I understand her curiosity, it’s very important that she learn not to fall for the siren song of screen time. My littles have no screens in our home, instead we pass time by releasing lobsters from the grocery store, tracking the bees that visit our property and using this data to embroider graphs on our family quilt, and going outside to dig holes to meditate in. Xander may only be 6 years old, but you can bet your ass he can dig a meditation hole better and faster than any other first grader I have ever seen.

On that note, I love how parents these days avoid their children by allowing them to be indoctrinated by the foolishness of public school. My children stay as smart as ever by roaming the woods with me, eating fungus and conversing with ferns. While I’m sure your curriculum will allow little Timmy get a great job hawking pharmaceuticals at the local grocery pharmacy, I have different plans for Xander and Meadow. And almost every single one of those plans involves making pelts and chewing bark. But have fun with your head lice.

Although I am not a judgemental person, I can say wholeheartedly just how grateful I am to be better than you. I allow this feeling to wash over me when I bathe in mud, when I nibble on sticks, and when I look into the eyes of my transcendent, dead-eyed children. Namaste!