The only thing I can think of is

to find a song whose lyrics approximate the cyclone of your own thoughts because besides that the only ways I know how to deal with conflict are (1) compose a strongly worded email and (2) rearrange my thinking. I am so exhausted of typing out concise thoughts and moral compasses and tinkering around within myself to determine what exists, I am tired of alchemy and chemistry and isolating the genome, documenting the different species of butterfly in a felted display case. And the more I rearrange my thinking the more I see my brain sliding down the side of a ziggurat, thunk, thunk, diagonal thunk, leaving a slimy trail as it goes. I am climbing up to see the wise man with my walking stick, wiping my brow, and it is slinking away, defying me. I could dig out the lepidopterology manual and throw the least valuable wings at someone, like a weapon, or glue them to my shirt to see what happens. Does yoga even have a butterfly pose?