incomplete

Out of a can of fruit and nuts, I happened to pick half a hazelnut. Not broken, you understand, just a whole that was a half, for unbroken brown skin covered it.

And I think that must be how we all are, incomplete wholes. Short of confidence, for some; too much frustration, for others. How do I navigate this life so when I leave it, I’m complete? Can I live it, complete?

I wonder what being whole is like. Perhaps that nut was put there to remind me that life is beautiful and fascinating because it is incomplete, and trying to complete ourselves is that by which we become complete.

Because we would be working towards personal fulfilment.