A hummingbird just arrived to give encouragement. Actually, it came for the bright red syrup in the feeder next to where I sit. While I busy myself with writing, and all through my day of dutiful pursuits and anxious worrying over things to be done, the hummingbird pursues its singular ambition of finding nourishment.
Life seems more purposeful with such simple ambitions: stay alive, reproduce. Our complex brains have developed ambitions far beyond our needs and purposes. We race around not even noticing hummingbirds, butterflies, or storm clouds on the far horizon.
[Daily post 054 of 260 in my year-long challenge.] ♨
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