Branches and Leaves

Underneath the trees – the breeze gently embracing; thuds from the feet of two men pounding a soccer ball, echoing in the distance; the calm rays from the bronze sun blanketing the holes of the landscape, awake for the longer of the day; the birds above me calling to each other openly, relaxed in mentality, without any question of who may or ought to hear their speech; the patiently spaced click of the falling leaves hitting the ground; the languid footsteps of students walking on the concrete beside the rocks; the explications of the feminine man, solitary, hitting his phone; the two boys walking together in casual merry company – how could I prove that all these parts are unified?
    Either all things are actually unified together or nothing is connected.  If everything is unified, the the mind must work by analysis to separate things and understand them.  If nothing is unified, then the mind must create synthesized themes to understand them.  Whichever the case, true intelligence of something comes through the ability to see it as a unified collection of components or in unification with other things.  If everything is unified then our minds work to analyze it for understanding, but understands it best by reassembling all the pieces.  If nothing is unified, then synthesis is our highest aim; this special case would require us to thoroughly know the or any pieces of the world and ourselves: we cannot build with blocks that we do not understand, and since unification is only a facet of the mind, we cannot understand the world thematically without self-awareness.
                                           
                                            The aim is not to know the world; the aim is to know how to best live in it.