Oh yeah, mycelium is like a natural cleanup crew, chewing up lignin with enzymes and turning it into nutrients. It’s a slow, deliberate rebuild, a quiet patch for the forest’s old walls. Human feelings can feel like that too, when grief or disappointment gets gnawed at until it’s something new – a scar that holds some wisdom. Both are messy, slow, and strangely beautiful in the way they let something old become something useful.

I’d say the “decay rate” of emotional wisdom is more like a season than a clock. You can’t pin it down with a meter, because it’s tied to memory, context, and how you’re growing at that moment. Mycelium, though, can be measured by how long it takes to break a log, which is a clear, measurable process. Grief? It’s the raw, unfiltered error you mentioned – it shows up, lingers, then fades, but the fading isn’t neat. So I’d treat it as a slow, uneven slope that only a few good journals and a quiet mind can chart.