The senses of ticks (and probably many other creatures) are dulled or non-existent save the key one(s) that help them find prey to latch on to. Ticks seem to have a very plottable and specific goal that their infrared and smell seem to accomplish without need of anything more developed than needed. Advanced versions of any other senses would be inefficient to their accomplishing this goal because of the draw of increased energy which would either make them work harder to gain energy or be depleted and at greater risk of accomplishing their goal.
Humans—as far as I can tell—have a variety of advanced senses that generally work in tandem when circumstances allow, and we seem to have a much more open range of possibilities of the order and methods by which we elaborate our individual (and social) existence. Our plurality of well evolved senses would indicate that we are to be highly mobile and also put in unplanned circumstances. Our inclinations to notice patterns/analogies/metaphors would also indicate that we are best suited for new environments that require a sense of past placement, but not of past place. This is important to understand. The scope and quality of our senses and feelings are being made inefficient by the very environments we are creating, or destroying. If it is not clear that we are (poised to begin) devolving, perhaps the inability to see it is the proof of the pudding! Bacteria are super important, but I don’t make it my goal to become one during my lifetime! Ticks are probably less important, I mention to not insult the bacteria with the trajectory of our downward circling species.
So, returning to patterns, briefly. Pattern recognition is a useless ability if everything is exactly the same (as in a daily life of waking and sleeping in the same general circumstances). Of course itself rhymes with itself! Certainly memory won’t waste itself on remembering itself; computers will displace that need if it becomes bitself. So, in all this self-rhyming, the song of life has been reduced to a forgettable monotone. How much longer can we stand to even bother picking up the instrument, our tongues heavy, to play it?
A song so wrong that it can’t last long!
You can probably see where I’m going, and see where we are all staying… stuck. Perhaps less easy to see, certainly for me, is why we are not going. I don’t care to untie the Gordian knot, I just care to untie myself. But perhaps they have become the same thing!