Everything has to find Its own Life

 Every living thing, that is.

Why am I saying this? Because I saw a cockroach scrambling across a drawer when I opened it, and I asked myself "What would it be like to be a cockroach?" 

And once I started thinking about this, I was reminded of a childhood friend, named Larry. of whom I often said, "He could not find himself!" He died of ALS. 

And I reminded of the little jungle in my side yard, full of red banana trees. These trees produce bananas that people do not like to eat, but birds do. They eat them, and then scatter their seeds in their poop.