Everything contains something else. Every thing, action, thought, process, contains trapped within it what we call the internal. This is the most mysterious of concepts. It is not the history of the thing, or the motivation of the action, or the origin of the thought, or the energy of the process. Neither is it spirit or essence: all of these exist. The true internal neither exists in the way other things do, nor does it not exist. It is the tremor between existence and non-existence. The almost. The divine. The secret. Our job is to help it break free – expose it ever so gently. For this we need to become like it and of it – foresake the swagger of knowing for the sake of an ever opening softness.