We’re all unfinished.
We’re all a bundle of contradictions, confusions, momentary glimpses, endless forgetting and unmeasurable possibility.
We’re all sadness, joy, brokenness, longing.
And yet we pretend to be anything but.
We’re prepared to visit exquisite harshness on ourselves just for being who we find ourselves to be.
What a kindness it would be to give up our attempts to impress ourselves and others with our togetherness and instead stand in wonder at the marvellous, incomplete, ragged and exquisitely beautiful mystery that we are.