Form is defined as a particular way in which something exists or appears.
More often than not, we love particularity and find it easy to appreciate both in nature and in the things that surround us.
We tend to wish for all things particular, even unique, in order to feel special and different from all the rest.
Yet… we find it difficult to embrace and we seldom love the particularities of our own body, the particular kind of shapes we were given, the particular kind of ways in which those shapes change over time… we wish for it all to be different, more like someone else’s, less like our own.
Relentlessly, we don’t seem to understand that shapes are just shapes, like the waves of the ocean.
We don’t love them differently just because they don’t all look the same, do we?
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