I came across a line the other day by a poet sharing their writing under the name @lizfair_ on Instagram. It said, "Perhaps the only real secret in life, is to never be a secret to yourself."

How true this feels. I think about all the beings, incarnations of the universe, in this world, this plane, this country and town, within this family, in a handful of dirt or trapped under a speck of dust floating in the sea -- all of them past, present, or future, existing all at once -- that I will never know; and the impossibility of meeting them, much less getting to know them with any amount of depth. It becomes so much more apparent how humbling my perspective really is, and at the same, time what a shame it would be for me to fail to understand my perspective fully.