Thinking like a pigeon

I can't really tell you what it's like to think like a pigeon. Or even what it's like to think with a pigeon, as no pigeon has ever sat with me long enough for my thinking to feel pigeoned. But what I might suggest is that when I saw this pigeon just sitting there and not doing much I thought about how my mind can suddenly just, as it were, switch off.

Imagine that I have been busily looking at things in shops, perhaps handmade wands, tumbled crystals, pottery mugs, deer hide rattles and such like. Then I sit down to eat, let's imagine, a wholemeal pasty filled with sweet potato and leek. I eat, thinking, "Yum, yum, yum." Then the food is gone and I think, "Oh. Shame." Then I just sit and my mind kind of tumbles, or free falls, or whirs.... like a washing machine on its self-clean cycle, when there is nothing inside, but it just goes round and round.

I have been away and now I am back and I have done a few chores. Accounts and football results and laundry and cleaning. That sort of thing. Now I am writing this, but, in all honesty, my mind wants to go through about five hours of self-clean.

I offer this from my tree peony. Those strange looking seed pods have opened and are, like my mind, emptying.