Me Lens

I wake to find Doe bedded down, just Northwest of the yurt. Heather is singing in the basement and Doe seems to be listening. Her big ears are directed toward the cabin, and here eyes are focused in this direction. But is she?

This gets me thinking about how often I see my creature cousin through the lens of me. I don't know if Doe is listening, but I know that, if it were me, I would be listening.

I work to peel away from the limits of my expectations and experience the intersection of Doe and me. Doe's eyes close as her head moves to look Southeast. Doe chews. Doe turns her head to the West. Doe stands. Doe reaches down to eat something.

These seem like non-evaluative statements, but I am left wondering if there might be even more for me to see if I move further away from the lens of me.