Sometimes I am struck by how much trying there in the world. Like, if you walk around, every building is decorated with carefully chosen colors, and every corner of it carefully painted, and a person intended for something when they planted those two rose bushes, or bought tiny metal shapes for the edge of the windows, and someone is in the middle of doing something with that disintegrating box and they want to get back to it. And half the people you walk past have carefully painted their eyelids and arranged their hair and created their outfits, all hoping for something—and that’s just for today.
The number of people in the world is hard to intuitively fathom, at least while continuing to recognize their significance as people. I think I do slightly better fathoming a scale of trying that is breathtakingly larger than the amount in my own life, which already seems like a lot.
Trying and caring. Two sides of the same coin, of course, but I vacillate back and forth about which is more impressive to reflect on.