Of course, I think about all the tedious humdrum stuff like how I need to get home to do some work or clean the house or make soup or read improving books.
I think about how many creatures regard this place of home and how my presence impacts them. One day some people walked past talking loudly. The woods went silent, literally, until the people had passed. Now, the birds didn't seem to respond to quieter people or cyclists... and this place is next to a popular footpath so you'd expect the creatures to be habituated to human noise. Yet, for some reason, they responded by shutting down on this occasion.
I recalled the research done on elephants and badgers which suggested that the human voice provoked a stronger fear response than any other sound. I wonder if the birds are put of foraging for too long by our passage. I think of how we have made demons of ourselves to all the other creatures.
I think about if this is the way to make a rainbow: by squashing in a bowl two flowers, the sky, the grass and the sun and then spinning them out into an arch.
I think about the elements and the seasons, the cardinal points and the fourfold division of a day. I think of how many aboriginal cultures only counted to three. What is four but two and two anyway?
Ah... four is what happens when you realise that your polarities only give you half the story. So, whenever you hear black/white, right/wrong, good/bad, theist/atheist, human/non-human, remember that's only one vector on the weather vane.
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