i feed my fish their little pellets, one can't see very well, i have to almost hand feed him. he was dying when i first met him, but he is much better now, he needed nurturing and some sustenance. the other fish is capable and independent, he can find his own food, and i've watched his technique of stealth, stalking and fast moving attacks. 

they eat, swim, sleep and dream.

the lizards get their food, it's the only time they run to me. they drag it away to a sun drenched rock and eat it leisurely, eat, they sleep and they dream. lizard dreams are filled with ancient times when they dominated the land, knowing power savage and raw, on the cusp of some form of intelligence beyond survival, when catastrophe changed everything. 

pan and i chase a frisbee, he loves to play with me, knowing that i like to hang out with him in the sun, he wants to please. he loves unconditionally, and it's been an education for me, as william james once said, 'to know love, look to the eyes of a dog.'

he likes to eat, play, sleep and dream.

the birds that flock down for their seeds also sing, they sing stories of the bird myths and legends, they see the earths magnetic fields, they see the currents of the atmosphere, they see the temperature shifts and the structures between sky and earth. a tree to a bird is like a synaptic nerve, filled with information, the bird like a spark carries it away, because birds like to play, they like to eat, they like to sleep and dream and they love to sing.

me i have to feed the beasts, i have to play with them, then i can feed myself and sleep and dream.

but there's something else, other compulsions, driving me forwards, some neurotic impulsive directive i have no choice over, the need to write.