Dusk
Sit outside. No reason. Just sit outside.
Listen to the bugs. Are they beetles? Cicadas? Are cicadas beetles? What even is a cicada?
Don’t worry about it. Notice these thoughts if you can.
Watch the sky. The clouds are moving. Everything is moving... even if you can’t see it.
Maybe an idea comes. Or a fragment of one. Let it percolate.
Inhale. What happens in the space of a breath? A plane flies by. A bat. Those beetles are still singing.
Have there always been so many trees there? How do they all get enough light? How do they not blow over? I can’t keep a houseplant from getting knocked over or chewed by the cats, and they can grow a hundred feet tall through hurricanes and woodpeckers and termites and whatever?
How many bugs does a bat need to eat? Maybe at least one more, the one that just bit me.
Nah, it’s alright, we all need to eat.
We do what we can. We all need to eat.
But in between, go sit outside.