Gut, Heart, Head and the tug

Interestingly things emerge from these I realize, if I look intendly I can identify if it's smeared by food traces or with wrenching emotions or plain 1 and 0s of the brain. By “Things” I am decisions.

Which is the dearest, the food-filled one of course. Somehow I feel my gut is the strongest. Of course it digests the best and the worst my gastronomy feeds it. I go by it as she is my dearest too, all the pazhamporis that I and her enjoys. But the tug ensues as I consider going by her, the blood pumper smears it all with emotions and asks me don't you feel this, this and that? Not really, but if you say so I can consider feeling these and make some adjustments. Then the logic from the upper master just arrives there and makes it a ultimate biryani of it all. So the confusion ensures what is the “right” to be done. The master says there is nothing like that, maybe what you feel is correct according to you. You still go by it, the gastronomic output that is. The consequences estranged persons and glassy demeanor assumed. These “Rights” could be a combination adjusted to accommodate all, then too there are dire consequences.

I go by my gut though after all trial and error over years. If she tells me I go by it. After all she my chai and pazhampori partner.