Itty-bitty Bug the Size of a Poppyseed

Once again I am waiting.  Waiting for my glorious hosta plants to bloom. They've been teasing me for days, the blooms that smell like honeysuckle. This morning I noticed this one here was just beginning to ease open.  So I climbed into my garden and got close up.  As I neared, this insect, probably a fly, alighted.  He reminded me of this whole world I pay so little attention to.  Or if I do pay attention it's to slap, kill, shoo away.  Or  911 my pest control service, MosquitoSquad, to come spray.  I am not appreciating this little creature. Nope.  I am eager for that linen white single hosta blossom to reveal so that I can photograph and take a heavenly whiff.  But bugs are everywhere, especially in Maine in the summertime.  I wouldn't want his guy, who might be a fly who hangs out on local cow poop, landing on me. But I wonder what kind of insect he is.  I know it's not a tick, which might make me scream and run, cause it flies.  Ticks sit in-wait till you brush up against the plant they cling to.  There is no distinctive buzzing of a mosquito. Possibly a Planthopper?  Thank God is doesn't look anything like a Eastern Bloodsucking Conenose.  On my iPhone I have a PictureThis app that identifies plants around my yard.  But is there one for bugs?  It's easy to care less for such creatures until they bother me.  But, not always.  Once while I was in a yoga class, training to be a yoga therapist, I eyed the tiniest of all bugs crawling on my pink yoga mat.  It was the size of a poppyseed.  I was totally captivated by that microscopic creature with it's even tinier little legs, eyes/sensors, mouth, babies, lovers, life.  I wondered if it looked up at me.   Giant curly-haired woman sitting cross-legged, the size of the bug's entire universe.  Like Mount Everest of the bug world.  But she moves!  I can't imagine how frightening that would be if a bug feels fear.  With a brush of my hand or an unintended step of my foot the size of a house in his universe, his life would be gone.  And who would care?  Would his mom cry?  Clearly I was a little bored with the yoga lesson, yawn, yawn, but that itty-bitty bug did make me think about all that exists that I don't attend to.  The poop fly alight on a budding hosta bloom this morning made me think again.  The more I attend to my life or, say, the details of my husband's smile or changing mood as he slaves over a rental renovation, the more wonder I see.  Or maybe reality.  Close up, the crap side of life is magnified, for sure, and a fight might ensue, but to examine with an open mind reveals the unseen.  Expands my mind like LSD or maybe a long, slow drag on a joint.  Generally I don't stop long enough to notice.  But today I felt the warmth of true love in my husband's smile and a wide and deep sadness as my old dog stumbled on her feet.