‹I’m doing my best› wrote a friend as he sat unnerved at home with his children for the tenth day in quarantine, without any of them being sick.
I asked him: «Your best, why, what for?» This superlative is a construct of the modern man. It feels much more natural to say: «I give my good.» Therein lies an integrative harmony. ‹I give my good› is not possible without a connection to life. This good stays flexible in every moment. And it doesn’t put pressure on you to be effective, efficient, or a certain way. It allows for self-talk, which to me, the superlative does not seem to do. It comes with an incapacitation that I allow because I believe I have to. But the best is worth no more than the good. Quite the opposite. And I’ve always felt under pressure when I had to say what my favorite book or color is, or who my best friend is.
‹I give my good, beautiful, and true› resonates – maybe even with something that is also at home outside of myself in the cosmos, in life. And that inhabits us both.