Assumptions run my life. No, they undergird my understanding of life, of what I consider life to be. I think I know what I mean when I call myself and you, too, human. But maybe I don’t really. I’m assuming we see human the same way; embodying a bunch of similar characteristics; distinct from animals, and yet we are a form of animal, are we not? Not plants but living and yearning for sunlight, dependent on water. We grow, we bloom, we multiply, we die. We’re not plants and yet we may wish sometimes we were.
Nature does not require an audience. Humans often do.
My assumptions suggest that humans are separate from nature and that’s the problem. Humans, or what I’m guessing humans to be, are a part of nature yet live like its one true adversary. Makes no sense. Nature, the whole of it, is sense itself, no need to make sense extra.
The skies above me are greying. A storm just behind the neighboring mountains is heading this way. The breeze which feels nice now will give way to a wind which will usher in a rain that will douse the ground, cleanse the atmosphere. That’s the way these things go; until they don’t. Recognizing patterns can only take you so far. Nature relates to defiance in ways we are hard pressed to name.
The storm is not in rush. It’s still not here. Nature does not require an audience. Or a narrator, for that matter.
We think humans are a problem for nature. Mainly we are a menace to ourselves. Nature will do much better without human meddling. Maybe nature is egging us on; to be done with us sooner rather than later. As hell bent on destruction and devastation as humans as a species clearly are, who could blame nature for assisting us in our apparent death wish.
One day I will author a whole book of nonsense. This seems like a worthy start.