Geese

Some animals (like geese, for example) have eyes on opposite sides of their head. The way they perceive the world — the way their brain constructs meanings from the patterns it receives from its sensory organs — must be so different from ours.

Now, imagine the collection of all the ways anyone (or anything) has ever felt. Has ever existed. The totality of existence, ever.

Think of the ways you live — the way you interact with everything that you have ever known. The way the skies are blue. The way a rainbow shines through (with some help from the Sun) pierces through clouds after a rainy day. The way the sheet of rain looks funnily animated in the distance of an impending rain cloud. We go through our lives taking these for granted. It might very well be that amongst that set of collective existence we just posited, we make up a mere fraction of it.

The way we perceive the world is a fraction of the superset of any being that has ever lived, existed, and perceived.

The way you see the rooftops of the dainty little houses through the rain-pattered bus window on your daily commute home might be the only way anything ever sees them. No wonder they’re pretty.