As an honest fecologist, I went to take care of my own shit and kitchen waste at the end of the year, and I compost them together. There was quite a bit, but not that much.

I lifted the bin and looked at the outside of the pile. A lot of it had decomposed, but a lot of it would still need some time. Great, I’ll toss the outer edge into the middle of the pile and vice versa! This way, the composting process will repeat itself – and when I do it 2-3 more times, it will all be nicely composted.

The top part, understandably, was not yet decomposed, but the lower half contained plenty of earthworms, bugs, and maggots, the workforce for the later part of the composting process.

I turned the pile over and added another 20-30% of leaves and grass for aeration and more carbon because it was too wet and too compact. So the bin ended up being practically full. The pile will collapse a bit over time.

There is not a trace left at the location where the previous was. I am sorry that I destroyed the homes of the creatures living there, but they only have to move half a meter to the side, and it is still homey there. Some of them ended up in the beaks of birds, I noticed through the window.

The state of the compost pile reflected well what 2025 felt like for me. The depressing first half of it, with my mother’s illness and death, soggy, dark, hardly digested. I had to allow in some helpers to slowly dig through the thick slurry.

Even when I searched for light, my paths to the sun were blocked. So I closed myself in the darkness and composted.

Even my writer’s digests, which usually just fly out of me, I had to squeeze out of myself with difficulty like old silicone from a tube.

That’s how it is with shit: until there’s not enough of it, it doesn’t compost as well as when it accumulates. I had to let the stinky experiences keep accumulating and carrying me deeper and deeper into the darkness – patience ultimately pays off!

On the first day, which was longer than the last, I symbolically exposed all the accumulated shit to the sun, aired it out, stirred it, and mixed it with fresh food. I faced unprocessed shit, in many of my half-composted poos, I saw my own illnesses and pains that need another round to be processed into food for others waiting in line.

I saw the loneliness of this world.

I saw company and friendship, inseparable bonds.

I saw how every end turns into a new beginning.

At the end of 2025, I wish you fruitful composting of your own accumulated shit, so that in 2026 it will become food for some new beginnings!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!