Watching.
Watching others.
Watching watchers watch.
Whoa! Slow down termite puppy.
Termites don't watch.
Termite could have puppies they walk if they could watch. They have to watch their puppy, if they had one.
Termites don't watch. Termites obey the queen. They work for the hive. They move; no will or choice.
Non-humans own puppies. They walk their puppies but they act like termites.
No choice, no thinking no compassion only...
Termite non-humans pretend to be humans by having a puppy.
They have termite puppies.
Are we termites, the puppies of a termite?
Are we human?
How do we know?

Backed up and the elbow broke the mirror. Spilled the salt and chased the cat. Yup, a black cat. Went under the ladder to get the dropped paint brush and also found a rare coin that had been lost for months.
Or so a story goes.

Superstition.
We humans thrive on it. We have shameful corporations that build off it to make billions of dollars from the hard working men, women and children.
Superstition.
The unknown, the secret, the hidden, the lie, the deception. Non-humans; those who lack human compassion, use the fear from superstition to control, manipulate, convert, exploit, enslave and create suffering.
Superstition.
The fear a green card will not be renewed if money isn't paid, if sexual favors are not given, if submission is not given, and if complaints of rights taken away are made.
Superstition.
It ranks as part of the foundation of fear.
With fear comes loss of control.
But we humans are not always too busy to confront our fears and our superstitions. We see them for what they are. We use the light of knowledge, self knowledge and truth. Our light turns on and the non-humans scurry with their fear /superstitions into their holes and cracks like cockroaches. We turn off their Televison Programing and live, talk and learn. We laugh, we share and we live together.
Superstition.
The science of prehistoric humans. We needed it then, but were growing up. We are getting stronger, we are finding freedom and strength, we are joining together with others. We are freedom and we can never be stopped.
Who are you?

In the morning the squirrel with it's big gray tail bounded down the tree. Stopping for a second now and then with guarded attention, it must be thinking.
A Pitt River human said that animals talk. You could understand them if you listened attentively.
If they talk, they must think.
The Pitt River human said he supposed they did, but then they didn't say much except the same old thing.
What was that?
He said they talked about food, sex and enemies. Pretty boring stuff.
What do we talk about?
If there is an advertisement on the radio, television, written media or internet what is that about?
Maybe we think like squirrels.
We use sex to sell food and food that doesn't make us fat.
We use Fear of enemies to sell taxes and giving away our freedom.
We use Fear to sell medicine we don't need.
We use sex to sell cars.
We use sex to sell clothes.
We use Fear of enemies to sell protection (like the Mafia) from imagined or alleged bad people.
We use fear to make the poor poorer.
Maybe we are squirrels after all.

A flat tire.
Stopped by fate.
Late for the appointment.
Frustrated to distraction.
The lug nuts tumbled to the road.
The road; black tar and gravel.
The road tar.
Tar made from Prehistoric life.
Hot tar under the sun.
People drive by.
They are potential tar in some distant future.
We are all tar waiting to become a road in a distant future.
There are those that would like that future to be now.
You know them.
They enslave us.
They tax us.
They imprison us.
They torture us.
They lie to us.
They trick us.
They pretend to be our friend.
They hurt us and make us feel guilt and shame for suffering.
They put us to sleep and tell us we are awake.
They rape us, they kill us, they steal from us, they betray us.
They feed us fear and sell our food to others.
They kill our children in war and protect their own.
They laugh at our stupidity and ruin our schools.
They give away our jobs and condem us for our poverty.
These are the inhuman; the living dead; vampires who feed off us.
The feed on the carnage of broken dreams, pain, suffering, lost hope, poverty and starvation. They bathe in the black sea of death's tears and languish in the moaning cries of dying children.
You know who these inhumans are. You see them in their condescending
postures.
You know them, you see them, so please don't feed them.

In Admiral Byrd's writings, towards the end of his career, he noted, on a Polar Ice Cap adventure, spotting an area of beauty and vegetation at what appeared to be a large entrance into the earth itself. Such a remarkable apparition reported by a respected explorer was reputed to be folly.
What Byrd saw we may never know. What is folly? What is it about the unusual that we so ardently refuse to lend any credence?
Are we so used to the familiar that the unfamiliar is a threat to our allusions/illusions?
What would it be like if we accepted others realities as their own?
What would it be like accepting our own reality?
What would it be like accepting ourselves?