MOST MORNINGS AFTER I finish my first coffee my mind does this mad scrambling search for patterns. It's like drawing a mental mandala in which all of the diverging and converging paths lead not to inner peace but to the source of the world's problems, which lead to my personal problems, and I imagine that my personal problems would be solved if the world's problems were solved, and vice versa. Between 6:50 and 8:05 AM it looks like I am putting on my socks or brushing my teeth but really I am figuring out how to stop global warming or create peace in the Middle East or what topic my nonfiction book should be about.

What I want is someone to blame. It might be neoliberal boomers or checked-out Gen Z-ers or hamstrung xillenials. It will never be all three at once. No, my paranoid mandala-maker doesn't work that way; I need boxes to check as the caffeine courses through my veins and triggers neurons that carve these pathways deeper and deeper into my being. My mental checkboxes are black and white, a chessboard with clear winners and losers. If only this, then that. If only that, then this. Who said that thing about holding two opposed ideas at the same time? Why was that supposed to be a good thing to be able to do? If I try to do that my mental mandala collapses like a busted slinky.

"I no longer know where my own feelings intersect with my biology with the world being trash," I texted a friend the other day. I am dealing with a challenging situation in my job, and it is not a situation that will ever go away, and so I start turning it over and over in my brain, looking for other challenging situations because if I can't assert control over this job-related thing maybe I can assert control over something else, or maybe it's just that I can't contain the irritation and exhaustion anymore, my cup overflows but not in a good way.

Asparagus was in season, but now it's not, and while we had some delicious asparagus this past week we also had asparagus pee. I was struck by what the vendor at the farmer's market on Saturday said about asparagus: "The best thing about asparagus is that as soon as you start to get sick of it the season is over." I found a lot to disagree with in that statement but I used it as a mantra this week: "As soon as you get sick of X the season is over," it's true of so many things, just give them time. Not most things, I know, not for example the main thing that is wearing everyone out, but still—seasons start, and seasons end. Turn, turn, turn, as Peter Paul and Mary sang.

Three Things That Kept Me Going This Week

1. Speaking of May mornings, it's the 100th birthday of my favorite Virginia Woolf novel, which is possibly my favorite novel: Mrs Dalloway.
2. I'm pretty sure I've posted about this before, but I'm so grateful that McCormick Center finally stepped up and saved migrating birds with an extremely simple solution: patterns on the glass windows.
3. Seeing buds on the rose bush we inherited when we bought our house: is this the year the damn thing is finally going to bloom?

This Week in Mushroom News

One of the winning show gardens at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show included a mycelium wall made from waste material recycled from previous RHS shows. "Mycelium evokes nature’s networks and pathways below the ground," the designers wrote, "and the fact that individuals supported back to good health and a secure home often in turn become good supporters, working with others to help our communities create lasting positive change and thrive into the future."

Housekeeping Notes

As we ease into summer Mushroom Head is switching to a biweekly schedule. Thank you for understanding!