amateur/hobbyist learning botany and birdwatching sometimes. i love the world

a river in the nightsky obscured by the lights that are needed to keep us "safe". how quietly do we mourn the loss of that 100,000 years hitting us all at once? we cannot taste with our eyes the nebulous substrate our skies bloom upon. try to focus our eyes, augment them, see the river flow.

with careful knowledge, with careful Knowing, with careful Understandings. learning to touch the little things and the big things that we were surely taught must all be dangerous poisonous ferocious lifeending. respect and adoration help us remember not just the 100,000 but the millions of years we touch every day. if you begin to look inside it, surely, the light that reflects off the flowing river, the caustics on the tidepool floor, when it touches our planet, when it touches That Which We Are, bent ever so slightly by our Gravity, will show its true depth to us.

on a hyperbolic plane, you can take any direction and there will always be more to explore. you will never find the same place twice unless you are careful to mark your path - and you won't be careful. you'll get lost in this alien geometry. the one that becomes mundane and utterly familiar the more you walk it. walking the edges of a winding-skinned nudibranch. strolling the beautiful curves of a lichen. imagining what they might look like if only Space allowed them to extend further. bend deeper. you try to sew a dress - one with four pentagons at each vertex. she quickly runs into herself. like this, you must be small like the nudibranch and like the lichen.

the river's furthest reaches feel how the groundwater seeps or fills the valleys. something miles away will Understand how the river tastes. it has never seen the river, touched the river. it tastes it anyway.

such is what it is like to crouch down at the plants.

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