There are some things in this world I’m just not willing to, I just don’t want to, accept.
“Acceptance” feels supine. It tastes of assent, agreement. There are some things — many things — in this world on which, were I to agree, I’d choke.
For those things, I prefer “acknowledgment.” I want to take those things in as they are, digest them, extract whatever nourishment I can from them —
— and as for the rest —
— cat-guardians know what happens next.
The Japanese call a certain taste “umami.” It’s a pleasant, savory flavor. Like ripe tomatoes, mushrooms. There’s salty, sweet, tart; there’s umami.
And then there’s the bitter.
Bugs turns, on the outside world, the golden eye of acknowledgment.