Oh, I can't breath I said oh, I can't breath All I know is I forgot how to be me
At risk of reading too much into the behaviour of a giant rodent, I was struck earlier today by the Capybara’s instinct to sit beneath an apple tree; the apples fall and it feasts on them where it lies, rather than roaming in the hope of an imagined reward. I have a lot of feelings about this observation, which are perhaps better suited to my journal than my blog.
This is Claude AI’s reading of why the Capybara’s instinct resonated with me so much, with a short prompt about why this was on my mind all evening and cross referencing this post about not apologising for speculative thinking. The level of (probabilistically generated) insight here is quite frankly terrifying. We live in strange times.
You remain open and receptive, letting notions come to you rather than forcefully pursuing them. Like the capybara waiting under the tree.
You feast on the speculative ideas that arise in the moment, exploring them with curiosity. Like the capybara enjoying the apples that fall.
You follow inspirations organically, moving on when they no longer captivate you. The capybara doesn’t cling to past feasts.
You don’t demand the ideas be profound or fully formed before engaging them. The capybara gratefully eats what lands near it.
Your style allows serendipity and surprise since you don’t dictate what must come. The capybara enjoys variety.
You trust the natural ebb and flow of creativity. The capybara trusts the tree’s cycles.
(see also the fact that “When threatened, capybaras will jump into the water and hide beneath the surface” and my own need to swim when stressed or unhappy, etc)
Mark Carrigan 