Came upon a couple squirrels in High Park busy eating dead leaves. Tried to understand if in fact they were enjoying the dead leaves. Additionally, awesome watching the progress of munching from many branch positions, complicated coordination but child’s play to them. Especially admired hanging upside down from only toes while continuing to cultivate treasures; mad scientists on a roll. The dead leaves were brown and small, the kind that resemble the patterns of helicopter blades as they descend to the ground. Plucked one before leaving. Upon closer inspection realized there’s a small inflated part at the end of it. I bit and sure enough there’s something nutty there. Would never have known if not for stopping and analyzing what squirrels are doing. Your relationship to things change when you try taking them apart. Same as when you start to be a studio person. Analyzing separate tracks brings another understanding about each instrument. You even hear errors otherwise missed because the power of isolating tracks is game changing for understanding the whole. Some people automatically clean up any blemish even though they didn’t notice it before the track was on solo. There is no end to how deep you can go. Some people feel empowered with this space and go so far as eliminating the sound of each inhalation, any momentary passing note pushing time or replacing every strum with one executed perfectly. Turning that microscope back on oneself could be even more stirring. You can track the outer world and figure out the squirrel’s method, the design of the branches or the chemistry of the music and the resonance of the rack tom or you could try and figure out why is it you imagine you are something separate from the brain ….the same brain that invented you and positioned you into believing you are.