Stop Making Lemonade
When life gives you lemons, we say, “make lemonade.”
Should the experience of life be reduced to such transactions — something to be slyly commodified?
We know paper is made from wood.
Wood comes from trees.
But ask yourself: is a tree just a form of wood?
You cannot understand a tree by reducing it to wood.
The moment you define it by its elemental composition, it is no longer a living, breathing tree — no longer grounded by deep, interconnected roots, no longer blooming from a simple seed, no longer reaching, stretching, and branching outward toward the infinite sky, offering rest to the birds that fly and shade to the creatures that crawl.
A tree best serves the forest by its presence.
And like the tree, we are not merely things — not constructions of biomolecules and proteins, framed on connective tissue and bone, to be used and consumed.
Your aliveness cannot be reduced.
It cannot be commodified, sold, or ransomed.
Life is sometimes bitter.
Taste what it offers.
It becomes part of you.
Life’s lemons need not be sweetened to nourish.
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