I love to see things that are so tangled they defy all logic to untangle or even understand their pattern.
Near our house is a Byzantine church. That in itself is so beautiful when they play the church bells with something like a piano keyboard. Anyhow, there is a huge nettle, a giant, wild hedge with small birds darting in and out.
Hundreds of birds seem to live in there. It is so amazing that they can so quickly and accurately navigate this dense and obtuse tangle of hedge at such a high speed. They must be geniuses.
I stood there mesmerized watching so many sparrows disappear and reappear from the tangle.
And I could vaguely see them inside chirping happily, and jumping quickly from branch to branch, as birds do – in the way they suddenly disappear and reappear in a different place so quickly, you can’t see how they got there - choppy.
There’s something really attractive about twigs and branches so dense you can hardly make sense of them.
The logical brain gives up, and so the perceptual brain comes forward. This is very satisfying – like being in a pleasant, light trance or dream.
Staring lightly at a pile of hay gives me a similar feeling.
I guess I like things that can’t be untangled, or completely understood, as if they hold a mystery. Or perhaps they can only talk to a certain, ancient part of me that was there even before language was ever spoken.