[525] Agathakakological

Hi all, I'm writing a little piece to go alongside a painting I'm currently working on, and I'd love to have your thoughts on it. Thanks.

Agathakakological

If you walk under some species of trees, you might see some lines of sky form between their tops. This is due to something called crown shyness. Even when growing close together, these trees leave just enough room so their branches don’t fully touch. It’s often thought to be a strategy to stay safe, to not hurt themselves through the movement caused by wind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what might be lost in that negative space. For instance, what would happen if, for a minute, trees forgot about their instincts and stopped coiling in retreat? Instead, going against their nature, openly reaching across the gap, fully embracing uncertainty without expectations, they reached and held each other anyway.

Warm touch can feel raw against cold skin, causing branches to recoil. But what if when meeting, against all reason, something shifts? The light doesn’t just seep through the gaps between their tops; it holds, golden and soft, as if it was the most natural thing it could do, as if it had always been waiting for this moment. As if something unspoken and unmissed eventually made sense, creating a closeness to dance in, making them realize that what brings them together is stronger than what keeps them apart.

In that dream of spring, however, they might discover again that distance is still the safest choice. After all, it does spares them from uncertainty, and the risk of getting hurt. But is it realistic to seek an existence free of pain? To think that we, unlike everything else, can shape the world around us and avoid the burden of heartache? Isn’t it more naive to think that we can hold off our suffering? Don’t our greatest aches reveal themselves suddenly, unsuspected, hiding just out of sight, behind hope or ignorance? And if they always find us in the end, isn’t our belief in control nothing more than misplaced certainty? An illusion we cling to, despite how often we are reminded how quickly it slips away. And if suffering is inevitable, then what is that distance really saving us from? The pain itself, or just the moment it reaches us?

Control may bring calm, yes. But to judge it fairly, we should weigh its effects not only by what it spares us from, but also from what it quietly takes away. We should then be reminded that all is composed of good and evil, and that all encounters carry the possibility of both joy and pain, without promising more than what they truly can offer.

In the end, it’s all about playing a game of careful balance. A game of understanding what is important to us, what we are ready to risk, and how much we are willing to open the door to the unknown, and all the good it might hold. 

I no longer look at trees the same way. I used to focus on the green, the bark, the leaves, but now I let my eyes stay longer looking in the space between them. I find myself reading the distance, wondering if they ever longed for the touch of something just beyond their reach, or if they've always known exactly how far to grow.