But here’s what troubles me. If we’re misinterpreting what we’re seeing, what else have we misread?

Look at how we’ve built human life. We’ve created a world where standing out matters more than ever (i.e., in careers, on social media, in how we present ourselves). We optimize, strategize, and perform. Meanwhile, we’ve forgotten something the peahen knows: that stillness is not passivity. That observation is a form of power, and sometimes the best choice is patience.

Nature doesn’t think in the same way that we do; it just does. A bird builds its nest without a business plan. It migrates without consulting a map. It knows when to fly south the way you know to breathe. There’s no second-guessing, no scrolling through social media for validation, no wondering if it’s doing enough. It simply knows its place and does its work.

Humans used to operate this way. We had instinct, but now we have analysis paralysis.

I wonder what innate things we do when no one is watching, when the pressure of performance drops away. Are we more like the peacock, desperate to impress? Or are we capable of being like the peahen, clear-eyed and selective about what matters?

Here’s the thing: humans have domesticated peacocks for thousands of years, not to control them, but to witness them. We recognized something majestic and wanted it close, but maybe the real lesson isn’t admiring their beauty. Maybe it’s learning how they live. They don’t spend their days wondering if they’re impressive enough; they just simply are.

That’s what we’ve forgotten. And maybe that’s what we need to relearn.

afraid to dance in the rain,

missing the chance to fill

their imaginary train.

Scarred by the eyes

and echoed laughter,

this stiff giraffe tries

to silence the chatter.

Take this chance

to meet an old friend:

In a deep trance to dance

to beat the new TikTok trend.

No more dodging;

no one is watching.

We say, striking a pose.

Holding onto our woes,

a few left untouched.

But what are our clothes, really?

Fashion can be iconic; maybe a little ironic.

Even so, we’re platonic—me and you.

Let’s follow the leader,

teeter-tottering through each day.

In all the generalities,

where’s our originality?

Be true. Stay in the know:

Oh, is that so?

Let’s focus on the present.

Flash! Gone in an instant.

Feeling punished by these times,

we just want to spit a few rhymes,

color outside the lines,

following their inside rules.

Can we find the tools in our chest?

Follow the bird to its nest?

Let’s keep learning and growing,

showing what it means to be truly:

Iconic.

Be something;

I just want to be.

I don’t wanna:

Be somebody.

I’ll just be a body.

Depression goes, and then it comes,

whooshing more than you expect.

Just as a glider rides the tide,

the waves remove the grooves in the sand:

Today, I might not wanna,

but I am gonna.

Just bought a one-way ticket to paradise?

That’s nice.

Iced tea with lemonade can aid the pain.

That cocaine might speed up my brain, yet insanity has a pattern of holding expectations.

An anticipation for what’s next?

That text from your friend asking to spend some time, hoping to upend these heavy feelings.

They say it takes a village to make a change; I think I’ve found mine.

Whatever that means.

Make it home for dinner? Yes please.

Make my first million? Definitely!!

Make it to 100? One can hope—but then what?

We are always striving for what’s next,

instead of focusing on what we have.

Food on the table.

A stable job.

Shelter to keep us safe and warm.

After that?

Everything else should just work out.

…Right?

Me: I’ve been getting into reading more lately. It is important to keep my brain sharp, given my old age of 31. I especially notice it in the morning: those morning cricks, the pops, and “oh, what was that” moments.

So my reading is definitely listening to audiobooks, but it’s fun! I can follow along in my mind, then I see a squirrel, and I have to rewind. Then there is a beeping noise, and I have to investigate, then another passing thought about what’s for dinner. And then, there go 30 minutes, and I have retained nothing. Thank you, ADHD, for another reminder that you are here to stay.

AI: This one’s got a nice etymological twist buried in it: “read” itself, before it meant “decode written text,” meant something closer to guess, interpret, or advise — Old English rædan. That’s why we still say “read the situation,” “read someone’s mind,” or “read the tea leaves” — those aren’t metaphors from reading, they’re actually closer to the original sense, and “reading black marks on a page” was the newer, narrower specialization. So when your brain drifts off mid-audiobook and starts “reading” the beeping noise or the dinner question instead, you’re weirdly closer to the ancient meaning of the word than someone locked onto the text.

Audiobook is a nice, transparent compound—audio + book—and does what it says. But it’s worth noting that “book” itself comes from Old English bōc, related to “beech”—the tree— because early Germanic peoples carved runes into beechwood tablets. So every time you say “audiobook,” there’s a fossilized tree buried in there, even though the format has nothing to do with wood or carving anymore.

“Squirrel!” as a distraction-metaphor is pure pop culture — it’s from the 2009 movie Up, the dog Dug getting instantly derailed mid-sentence. It caught on so fast, specifically because it’s onomatopoeic for attention itself — one word, sudden, small, gone. It’s become genuine shorthand in ADHD communities because it captures the involuntary part so well—you don’t decide to think about the squirrel, the squirrel just happens to interrupt your sentence.

And ADHD — attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder — is interesting because “attention” comes from Latin attendere, “ad-” (toward) + “tendere” (to stretch). Attention is, literally, “a stretching-toward.” Which makes “attention deficit” almost poetically literal: not an absence of a thing, but an insufficient stretch — the reach toward one focus doesn’t hold, so it stretches toward the beeping noise, then dinner, then something else, before snapping back only partway. Your rewinding is, in a weird way, you manually re-stretching your attention back to where it detached.

A picture from our recent trip to Florida. I definitely stopped mid-walk to take this :)

Nick: Independence Day from Great Britain. Yeah! Go America! But then why isn’t there a Dependence Day? Is that our birthdays? When we are young, we are dependent on so many others. It is important to celebrate our dependence on others. Then, when we hit a certain age, we become independent. So are our birthdays really a dependent day, then shift to independence? Is that what happens when we become adults?

AI: You’ve actually landed on real markedness again — “dependent” is the base/unmarked word, “independent” is dependent-plus-negation (the in- prefix flips it). So structurally, “dependence” already exists and always has — we just don’t throw a parade for it. Nobody schedules a Dependence Day because dependence is the assumed starting condition of being human, not an achievement. You don’t celebrate the water for being wet.

Which is actually a nice reframing of your birthday idea: every birthday is, at first, quietly a Dependence Day — literally the day you arrived, totally unable to survive without someone else. What’s interesting is that English doesn’t mark that state with a special word because it’s so default that it’s invisible. We only reach for “independent” once someone moves from the default state into the exception. So your instinct — that there should be a name for the reliant, cared-for years — points at a real gap. We don’t lack the concept; we lack the celebration. Cultures do have quiet nods to it: naming ceremonies, first birthdays, coming-of-age rites in the other direction (quinceañeras, bar/bat mitzvahs, Sweet 16) — those all mark the transition toward independence, which kind of proves your point. We ritualize the exit from dependence, not the entrance into it.

As for America’s actual Independence Day — funny enough, in July 1776, the colonies were doing the toddler-to-adult move on a national scale: cutting the cord from the “parent country” (Britain was literally called the “mother country” in the rhetoric of the time). So the metaphor you’re building — dependence as childhood, independence as the declared adult self — is exactly the metaphor the Founders themselves were reaching for.

So maybe the honest holiday structure is: birth = Dependence Day (uncelebrated), and every birthday afterward is a small independence anniversary, chipping away at reliance year by year — until, ironically, old age often loops back toward dependence again. Kind of a full circle nobody puts on a calendar.

Picture a hundred billion fireflies lighting the night sky,

tantalizing the main parts of the brain with this refrain.

What about the heart? A real self-starter.

Its beat continues — the old venue: oh, so last week.

But you’d be weak and depleted if you’re bleeding so.

Please try not to be needy or too greedy.

The lungs are freed – Finally! The smoking had left the scene.

Weaning off tobacco is hard; imagine how your lungs feel. Right?

It’s real and true that your point of view can change you physically, too.

Learning from one another is vital to survival.

How are my vitals? Need more blood!

Oh, this one’s a dud. Time to move on?

I couldn’t help but include a picture of my dad. :)

Not plugged in the dark – Again!?

Sven, get the pen.

Let’s start writing, hoping you’ll forget that recent regret.

…

Memory has a strange way of affecting us,

those sensory feelings all around.

Learn to stay on the ground,

hoping to right the wrong;

merely trying to belong.

I took this picture in Louisville, KY, shortly after my dad’s passing.

Even so, those hefty lefties look for ways to make things better for us mighty righties.

…

The never-ending questions remain in life:

Who gets to decide when I go?

What is the score in life?

When is the end near? My dear!

Where do they send us?

Why do some die young while others don’t?

How long is forever?

…

Death is legendary, yet not knowing can carry so much more.

Taken at Bay Branch Farm in Cleveland, OH

Be bright, outshining that darkness.

Remember that black and white make gray — a complementary color?

Never bother, negativity is positively here.

Are you going to let it consume your well-being?

Being sure is difficult when you focus on the bad.

Let’s try to be content in the present,

hoping future thoughts can embrace that negativity.

It can complement your day, not focusing too much on the gray in the way.

Listen for compliments: a little flirt on your new shirt or that cute skirt.

Seize the moment to be happy.

Don’t hold resentment, have contentment.

Find a sense of fulfillment in your work:

You did it! Now sit, and be proud.

…

I took these pictures at a Contemporary Arts Center in Cincinnati.

Papers — they’re everywhere! Must be square, they care to dare.

Scissors — these snippers lose their grip, recalling the note:

“Leave Steve’s dip for Skip. Maybe some chips.”

…

Lips keep mouths movin’ with the groovin’ hips – Romance.

“May I have this dance?” More like: “Can I pass this trance?”

The two glance at the chances they’ve missed in this game:

“Rock, Paper, Scissors…” Shoot! We’re the same.

…

We visited Holland, MI, a few years ago. People are so talented.

But what about my own cracks?

It’s quite sad to lose your Dad, unexpectedly. It’s okay to be mad on Father’s Day or even glad to celebrate his birth—the greatest day, indeed.

Camcorders capture the celebrations, a dedication to dads everywhere.

It’s a little mad to see the ads adding up.

26 billion spent for one day? Quite the thanks you all need?

Yet, no amount of spending can mend this broken heart.

“These wounds cut deep, Dad.
It will be okay; time heals all.
But who makes that call?
Can they just spare the scars from yesterday?”

“We’ll see. We can still find times to play,
enjoying opportunities to live the life you have …”

“Squirrel! … What was that, Dad?”

“Remember, Bud: it’s just another day.”

Why must we crave community,

the unity of being together,

when we also just want to be alone?

What’s the vibe: Atonement?

Which is it? Me or we?

…

Can someone throw me a bone?

Why must everything be so binary?

What if things are simply unknown?

Why can’t things just be ordinary?

This and that? Growing old with cats!
…

I want to be with people and also need space,

but how do I know when is which?

Ditch the chase; no one needs to win this race.

…

Independence can be correspondence – quite the sentence.

Might make a lad a tad mad – a soon passing fad.

Remember, it is no trouble to pop a bubble,

or hop like a bunny with your Honey.

…

Just enjoy your life with all its intimacies and intricacies.

I need to be vocal when I start, sipping nectar at a local joint.

Playing with others is a bother but also sparks creativity.

It is all that I know – to be so: Free.

I’ve finally spread my wings, finding time to try – maybe fly away.

Oh, shoot. Now an issue: “I miss you.”

“What a hoot!” she says with a snoot.

Is there a solution? A dilution to our resolution.

…

She’ll come when she wants; they always do.

But is it ever the right time?

Sublime messaging can be deceiving;

I’m perceiving that only a rhyme will help.

Spring brings life anew with vivid colors a-brew.

Finally! A good time to remove the clutter; butterflies gliding free.

Summer is on the horizon — transformations made true.

It has arrived; the year’s come alive.

…

Now it’s time for autumn,

lush leaves in the tall trees:

Burnt orange, yellow, red.

Winter’s gonna be a real dread.

Can we be thick as thieves,

knowing that cold isn’t waning?

It can be draining – straining our pain, we hope for tomorrow.

…

The four seasons go and come; let them help you grow a green thumb.

But there’s so much gray in the way of the days ahead.

“No good deed goes unpunished.” – Yet, what is good?

The need to read should remain a priority.

True superiority could be more morally sound,

on the grounds that education matters.

The batter’s up to hit the ball; they are so small.

But tallness can be inept. Accept who you are.

Your education will be strong;
your dedication will belong.

Teach how you plan, and do what you can.

“Gibbons are called ‘monkeys’ — some false tales about their frail tails.”

“Snakes awake in the sticky heat, slithering and slick — ready to eat quick.”

“What’s needy? Those two moving monkeys’ treaty. A peace agreement between them — their arrangement for now.”

“Next door, one big Guinea pig sheltered in the shade, settled away from the summer sun.”

“Inside, the alligator turtle sits, wading awhile. A while is a long time, especially when finding a prime spot — a hunch for lunch doesn’t always pack the punch.”

“But does it have to?

Let’s all chew like a sloth — slowing down! He’s hidden in the trees, shooting the breeze.”

Enough reminiscing for now.

Back to the cold; try not to get old.

…

“Dad, what do you miss the most?

Blood drives? Perched at the door, you welcome friends and strangers alike.

Cooking for the youth? Sausage, biscuits, fruit, juice — you always had a way to reel people in.

What about family?

So many names for you, Dad: Billy, Boomer, Uncle Bill, Pop.

Yes, it’s a shame you’re gone physically, but there’s no one to blame.

Goodbyes are permanent; instead, I’m saying: see you later, alligator.”

…

“It might be a while, crocodile. But please know that I’m still here for the greatest days in history — every day.

Now let’s eat some pizza, cheesing about more memories of old.”