Today — these past days, this past week or so — I’ve been feeling really good.

Which feels like an odd, almost shameful thing to confess while the world spirals down, faster and faster.

Objectively, the goings-on are terrifying. The Polycrisis — that extraordinarily tangled web of climate breakdown, societal unraveling, political upheaval, dismantling of democracy, and collective grief — is real. It’s happening. And I feel it, deeply.

And yet — I feel good.

Even writing that, part of me flinches. I know many people are in pain. Many are exhausted, frightened, grieving, overwhelmed. There’s something that feels a little icky, a little privileged, about putting words to ease and joy in a time when so many are struggling to stay afloat.

But still — I care to notice when I feel good. It’s a practice I’ve held close since the first of the big, close-in losses:

Noticing the micro-moments that bring a little more ease, a little more breath, a little more peace. Noticing, not to show off or escape, but to stay connected — to life, to myself, to others. To keep the channel open.

I know this feeling isn’t permanent. It can leave as easily as it arrives. But when it’s here, I welcome it.

I’m not euphoric. I haven’t checked out. I just feel peaceful. Steady. Calm. Creative. Energised.

And I’m grateful.

Spring sunlight is lighting everything up — outside and in. I’m sleeping far better these days, thanks to a blend of care, practices and gentle support. Microdosing psilocybin is (I sense) part of what’s nourishing me, guiding me towards more flow.

More than anything, I’m noticing a deeper capacity to hold the mess, without collapsing into it.

Is this what polyglow feels like? It’s not the opposite of collapse. It’s not denying the collapse. But it’s a quiet blooming within it. A reweaving of joy, curiosity and vitality in a world that’s burning.

I feel like I’m blooming. And I’m so grateful that I notice. I trust these blooming times will nourish the non-blooming ones, too.