har-ish

Everything is anything, and anything is everything. A Zen circle of enlightenment becomes a squid ring; a squid ring becomes a circle; the cerulean blue of an imagined ocean becomes the thatched roofs of some distant village. Perhaps form has no fixed identity at all; we simply keep changing what we see within it.
That is the absurdity of life: that we keep trying to find meaning in absurd things, and then become staunch defenders of the meanings we have invented for them. We draw the circle, call it enlightenment, discover a squid ring, and then proceed to argue about what it means. Perhaps the real absurdity is not that things have no meaning, but that we become so certain about the meanings we give them.