When I do my walkabouts I tend to notice the small things around me. The world is really built upon such things, all connected like the random scattering of straw upon the earth; forming unseen patterns we sense but cannot see. I walk past the toads congregating under the street lights, they having learned the behaviors of winged insects and their compulsive relationship with light. The toads do not think this through as we might; the light attracts the insects therefore we should go to where the light is. That would be too indirect and reasoned. Rather I suspect the toads move to where the insects are and are not at all concerned with causality. Thus they have a different stimulus, a sensory code written long ago in the web of life on earth. Without the light the insects move wherever they will, and the toads will find another spot, and these words will change as well. I wonder about that story and if it will speak to who we are and of our place out there in a sea of darkness on the winds of light.
whoisfenton 