Does it occur to you that part of what your daily actions, which butterfly out, could end up determining is which star systems humanity expands to? Our entire future could certainly be determined by "this star, this little planet here" versus "this other star, this slightly bigger planet."

What you choose could swirl around and push unexpectedly what's chosen then. The breezes that they will account to chance? The breezes will have included your voice, your life - you influencing. You will have changed the breath ever so slightly.

And the universe might tip another way. Sometimes a single vote makes all the difference. Imagine consciousness exists to vote for the future. We play some chips, make some bets, follow some leads, play detective and get good at it, pursue prevention as in Minority Report, build new cities and forests around them, and stars around the leaves. Our conscious choices direct our energy and material, which can't help but scrape on the edge of this vista of a universe we're watching down from, and up from. We push the breeze.

Sometimes I think the wind in the morning is the lunchtime chatter of the tips of bird feathers as they cross other feathers, heat up: shingle-like in the sun and burning breeze. Their sounds, sights, and flutters traveled across the ocean at night, or for weeks or months or centuries, and here, now, these little buds, these tiny remaining spores of influence, tip the universe again, as do you. You're all tipping it. We tip it together.

-

(Does it occur to you that part of what your daily actions which butterfly out could end up determining is which star systems humanity expands to. The entire future could certainly be determined by "this star, this little planet here" versus "this star, this slightly bigger planet." What you choose could swirl around and push unexpectedly what's chosen then. The breezes of randomness that they will account to chance? That will have included your voice, your life, you influencing. You will have changed the breath ever so slightly. And the universe might tip another way. Sometimes a single vote makes all the difference. Imagine consciousness existed to vote for the future. We play some chips, make some bets, follow some leads, play detective and get good at it, pursue prevention as in Minority Report, build new cities and forests around them, and stars around the leaves. Our conscious choices direct our energy and material, which can't help but scrape on the edge of this vista of a universe we're watching down from, and up from. We push the breeze. Sometimes I think the wind in the morning is the lunchtime chatter of the tips of bird feathers as they cross other feathers, heat up, shingle-like in the sun and burning breeze. Their sounds, sights, and flutters traveled across the ocean at night, or for weeks or months or centuries, and here, now, these little buds, these tiny remaining spores of influence, tip the universe again, as do you. You're all tipping it. We tip it together.)