There are moments in a day when all there is in my mind are weeds. Right now there is a big “as within, so without,” the dandelions are ubiquitous – seas, swarms of them lifting as I lift my feet.
I could say I don’t like them – I don’t – but I think it’s mostly because they are weeds. And I think we call them weeds because they are ubiquitous.
Having said that, it doesn’t make sense to me. Respect for things all around us in multiplicity is sparse. Look at “black birds.” I think there is more than one kind but I rarely hear anyone defend their specificity. My favorite bird is a crow. I always get a funny look with that.
Imagine if our love of rarity included breath. Imagine that. I love appreciating the wealth and weave of similar beings, air, water, hens feet.