Subtlety. As in easy to miss if you are not paying attention. Or, easy to miss even when you are paying attention because you are calibrated to a grosser perception. The way we miss the bugs we walk on in the grass, or the play of light and shadow on the water we speed over in our cars on the highway bridges.
Subtleties of visual effect. Subtleties of cause and effect. Subtleties of thought that whispers in a still quiet voice - patiently - persistently - despite our imperviousness. Subtleties of intuition that seem to cross in front of us, or pass through us unbounded by the contraption of intellect. Unbounded subtleties. Ignorable. Too quiet to listen to. Too small to focus on. Too seemingly insignificant.
Subtleties, like gravity? We hardly notice the force that binds the universe. Or like the strings the Monarch butterflies follow to ancestral forests. Strings tied to trees their progenitors were born in a thousand miles from where off spring begin a journey back. This by mechanisms we can’t perceive. Or subtleties in distinctions between the substance that animates us to life and the substance of flesh and mineral and dust that that remains when we pass.
Might it be worth our while, I wonder, to try and hear what the still quiet voice is saying, Or follow where the intuition seems to lead? Or look, within, a little harder, little farther, and attempt to discover what subtleties we might be trampling?