Sometimes I think I possess little sense of perspective in my consideration about things. I seem to take seriously things others don't and vice versa. Or finding humour in places where others don't. And of course humour vanishes once explained. Which is why I hate explaining jokes. If you didn't get it, that's it. Sorry. Too bad. Jokes are not like freaking leftovers that you can reheat in retelling. They're like orgasms. You either get them, or you don't. You never say I think I had an orgasm. Because if you do, I got news for you. That wasn't it.
So. Back to the mains. How seriously should I consider something. For example, how much of my thoughtful effort should I apply to a rock as opposed to say a poem or a piece of music or a pen or a planet, for example. Why should I not spend 30 minutes in thoughtful consideration of a garden rock as opposed to a dead bug. I could easily spend more than 30 minutes contemplating about either one for example, where the rock is concerned: what is its' colour, its shape, its weight, its volume, its height, its distinguishing features, where it is placed, where such rock came from, how it was formed, which 'family' of rock does it belong to, how it is extracted, going even lower, its atomic composition, how I could use it in a story, etc. You get the trajectory (if not, please re-read)? An ancillary question would be how deeply should one think about things too. Should we consider some common rock in great depth?
Interest, needs and inevitability would dictate relevance. A natural sense of curiousity and inclinations would have some influence in expanding that area of relevance.
But even then how deeply enough do we know of what is required of and of interest to us?
We can only exist within a plane of middleness.