On Guts vs. Gas, Fasts and Farts: What you know by 40...

... is the difference between guts and gas, intuition and indigestion.

FYI, 

the gut can be gas

flatulence amassed

acid refluxed

rancid intake redux 

upchucked into the esophagus 

and burped into the palm 

just before a handshake
to contaminate fate's balm

Trust your gut, people will say.  But your gut is a talkative bastard, especially when you eat like I have eaten.

Most of what we call intuition is actually indigestion, brought on by all the negativity we take in on a daily basis.  News is bad news.  The songs are bad songs.  The word all over the world is war.

Under these conditions, how can we hear the voice of our gut, the whisper of intuition over the grumble insecurities bubbling in the cauldron of our minds?  The short answer is... we can't.  Not without taking a break.  Not without taking time to meditate or pray; for a hard run or a wild dance.  All these things are fasts of a sort.  And fasting everyday is a must.

When we pause the locomotion of life to do something intentional, we are fasting from distraction, from inertia.  And fasting isn't just pausing bad stuff.  Fasting adds space and brings quiet so we can hear the guttural solo of our gut, so we can join the mellifluous harmony of our intuition above the metallic clanging of the machinery of our minds as they digest the drama of the day.

In other words, fasting is like farting with intention.  Let me explain.

Stylized image of farting with intention, AKA a tuba at a second line

Some of what we think is going on in our relationships is actually the reality show we watched three weeks ago.  Some of what we think is happening with our kids are the echoes of the radio show we listened to in traffic last week.  Some of what we think is happening at our jobs are the bellows of ghosts of old bosses.

Essentially we are all walking around in our own personal fart clouds thinking the world stinks.  But when we fart with intention, we go to the bathroom and let it out, we go outside, we spare the person in the elevator, we let it out and keep it moving, rather than mingling our stinks into a fog of mutual disgust.  But if we trust gas over our gut, we get what we've gotten.  When you follow gas you get fart in the face.  Then you make a face and the people around you make that face mean whatever their soap opera or pundit or vapid pop song told them your face meant.  They respond to you accordingly and now you got real beef.  Voila!  A fart has turned to beef and that's the ultimate in processed meat.

But now, 37 days before 40 years old, I can say this for sure:  Our gut doesn't always give us the right answers, but our gut can give us the right questions if we step out of the psychic fart storm of the daily grind.

Fast to clarify your gut from your gas...

that's what you know by 40.

Looking out at life, you can either see a fractal cut looking glass or a fog of past gas.
The choice is yours young Jedi.