Hang with me while I fashion these thoughts into something that strings itself together.
The scientist: "You can't tell the difference with the human eye. There are seventeen of them and they all look the same. How did they know this specific plant had the correct chemical makeup?"
The ethnographer: "They said when there's a full moon, the plants sing to them."
The scientist: "Right."
Sometimes I realize that the internet and books and jobs are just a thing. They aren't the things that make us who we are. We are made of dirt and air, water and heart.
"if we're only atoms, matter and gravity why do you make your case with such poetry?"
My anthropology teacher says the only thing humans have in common is the need for a social group, rituals, and dancing. I kind of love that.
I listened to a podcast that posed the question "What is thought without language?"
E.E.Cummings would answer such a question.
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