When I'm out in the daylight, and I see a tree, what I actually see is not the tree itself. What I see is the sun reflected off the tree. Likewise with rocks, grass and birds: it's always the sun I'm seeing reflected off them. This is possible because the sun emits all visible colors (or rather, our eyes evolved to perceive almost all EM frequencies that almost all solid matter deflects). I'm not seeing the things. I'm seeing the light. We live surrounded by the sun.
For a different mind-blowing angle, a tree is the combined trajectory of its buds.
(From Theodore Stugeon's "The Education of Drusilla Strange", but I think it's fairly sound if you ignore persistent wind, random damage, and some thickening.)
An insight I had a while ago:
When I'm out in the daylight, and I see a tree, what I actually see is not the tree itself. What I see is the sun reflected off the tree. Likewise with rocks, grass and birds: it's always the sun I'm seeing reflected off them. This is possible because the sun emits all visible colors (or rather, our eyes evolved to perceive almost all EM frequencies that almost all solid matter deflects). I'm not seeing the things. I'm seeing the light. We live surrounded by the sun.
Is this too obvious? Inconsequential? Redundant?