The trouble with perfect abstract ideals that we want to reach is that we never get there. They are untouchable rainbows. Far better, I reckon, to find a comfort in the world itself. To try and see trees as essential versions of trees, and ourselves as essential versions of ourselves, and to cultivate the essential spirit of rather than to reach for something that doesn’t and can’t exist and watch it forever slip through our fingers. Work with what you have. Exist in this world. Be the asymmetric square. Be the wonky tree. Be the real you.
