dawn at Lake Ella

2/21/2020 – Friday

I forgot to charge my headphones so there was no musical or podcast accompaniment on our walk this morning. It was very early (thanks, doggo) and cold — our last winter for the year, I expect — and windy.

Our brains are wired to identify and organize. I mention this because sometimes crossing parking lots, I thought, “is that a wind gust or someone following me?”

We anthropomorphize everything, almost instinctively. We not only assign names and personalities to our pets, but our cars, our roombas, our houses, our phones. My least favorite purse hates me. My coffee tumbler is stoic and reliable. My bed hates letting me go.

The rustle of leaves in the wind becomes footsteps.

I often think: this is how myths and fairy tales are born. A tree falls and we decide it is a god of the forest throwing a temper tantrum. This is how we got deities for thunder, sea, animals.

I don’t think a god was following us this morning, but who can say?