Sometimes your brain just gets too full.

Sometimes your brain wants you to tip the basket over and dump out some of the apples before it gets too heavy (there are about thirty-five recognized species of the genus Malus if you’re counting the wild and crab apples, but if you just mean the kinds of apples we buy at the grocery store and eat and cook with, well then you mean Malus Domesticus and there are about 7,500 types of domestic apple varieties) and sometimes you need more room for your paragraph because pesky little interrupters get in your way.

Sometimes you worry they’ll never start.

Sometimes one thing leads to another and an exhausting game of association keeps you from being on task, finishing the next project, or starting something new (apples, apples, cinnamon… cinnamon comes from the inner bark of trees, just like apples; well, apples don’t come from the bark, they come from trees though. Genus Cinnamomum, try to say that fast five times! Go on- try it! Genus Cinnamomum! Genus Cinabunyum! Genus Cinomomentum!) And so on.

Sometimes they feel as if they’ll never stop

Sometimes there can be nothing more fantastically amazing than silence. And lots of it. Sometimes we all need to close our eyes, our books, our computers, our minds, and just… be quiet.



Yes, wasn’t that lovely?



Sometimes we need to remember that our apples, our glorious basket-overflowing apples seasoned with Genus Cinnamomum, are growing and reaching within the confines of a very loud and very busy orchard. They are stretching out as far as they can, as often as they can, and as fully as they can to absorb each and every detail, each and every opportunity, and every bit of data this world has to offer.

Sometimes we need to sit down under that tree, invite the world to stop spinning so fast, and let them fall on our heads and open our minds. When that happens, parents of these apples from your tree, these sweet Annona Genera, these reminders of Latin you took so long ago and fill your mind to overflowing, do you know what you should do next?  Well, you should smile. Just smile. Because our baskets get heavy, our data gets interruptive, our associations get in the way to the nth degree, and we appreciate the silence, too.


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