When we were first born, we had to learn how organize all the things we perceived into some sort of framework. A baby's eyes will roll around every which way until she figures out that they have to point over there to see that thing over there. And then once she figures out how to focus, watch what she looks at. It might not be you, but something she perceives in the air right behind your right shoulder. With parents to help, she will discover the difference between a red apple and a yellow banana. She'll learn what's important and learn to discard the information that doesn't fit into the current worldview.

Sometimes when I watch the grass, I see a pattern of concentric circles in it, large ones. I am usually soft-focused and calm at the time and not thinking about much of anything. And then there it is. Just as real as the eyes I'm using to see the pattern. It's not a woo-woo sort of thing. It's not imagination - we can tell when we are making something up. It's just there. And then after a bit when I start thinking of other things, it quietly dissolves and the grass becomes normal again. It happens often enough that it's interesting to me. But I haven't drawn any conclusions.

Maybe when it comes to things not usually seen it pays to not draw conclusions.