The First One

I. We’re open source.

II. We don’t have resources and we don’t need them.

III. We studied everything.

IV. We’re pretty partial toward tangents.

V. We thirst; we’re not thirst traps.

VI. We flex morals.

VII. We live in a society.

VIII. We’re better together.

IX. We ask for it.

X. We’re self-aware without a hint of irony.

I was elated to have received the LEGO Botanical Collection Bonsai Tree (#10281) for Christmas. My underground apartment doesn’t receive much natural light, and I struggle keeping plants alive. Even my Dracaena trifasciata withered and died. The LEGO bonsai would be an eternal plastic testament to my taste and craftsmanship.

At 878 pieces, the set stands 7 inches tall and is curiously designated for ages 18+. (This latter fact, in hindsight, should have given me pause). I’m used to the fantastical sci-fi, fantasy, robotic, animal, and, yes, even botanical models LEGO has produced for decades. Most recently, I had built the Botanical Collection Succulents (#10309) and Tiny Plants (#10329) to decorate my living room, and they were a joy to put together and behold. Surely, the bonsai would be the ultimate zen building experience.

According to writer and bonsai curator Mariya Kanegi, the golden rule of bonsai is often summarized as “Patience and Observation.” The tiny trees are living works of art, requiring constant attention and meticulous care akin to meditation. Similarly, building a LEGO set often enters one into a flow state—disparate pieces accumulating into a solid, synergistic whole.

Indeed, the first two components are beautiful in their simplicity. The brown ‘wooden’ display platform and black pot/container for the tree are both geometric rectangles and use long, flat pieces that fit flush into something LEGO rarely makes—practical objects. I built the LEGO Botanical Collection Bonsai Tree in installments, and for a couple weeks I used the platform to display a small, waving ‘money cat’ tchotchke because I liked it so much.

 When I sat back down to start the tree, though, the experience took on a different light. Expecting to sink into the flow of simply ‘building LEGOs’, I turned a page in the sutra of instructions I was given and faced a dark reality. The pieces for the trunk are, more or less, entirely brown. Add to that, they are odd, unfamiliar shapes which LEGO claims are ingeniously borrowed from other sets to recreate the form of gnarled wood. There is no building this set without the sutra (instructions)—one might as well try how to explain to the unenlightened how the river is both one entity and never the same to make the pieces connect and look realistic. And yet the instructions in the booklet are nearly indecipherable. The glossy paper and ink with which they were printed literally reflected back at my (aging) eyes a mahogany blur. Also, the images of the tree rotate in dizzying pirouettes (90 degrees? 120 degrees? On the x-axis? Both x- and y-?) with almost every step. It’s thus that I learned the First Noble Truth of the LEGO Botanicals Collection Bonsai Tree and unearthed a deep irony—that building the rest of this set would be to embrace suffering.

But if only I could transcend. Perhaps by examining the instructions deeply, by truly understanding the pieces, I could make them take form. Also, I am an adult dammit.

I completed the trunk almost three weeks later in several sit-downs. Next came the foliage. Here, I approached the same roadblocks as with the trunk—the greens (or rather, green) in the instructions blend together. It’s at this point that I learned the origin of suffering—the desire to attain that which cannot be attained. In building LEGO sets, the goal is a picture-perfect recreation of an ideal form. The foliage I completed, however, was more of an approximation, and could not be anything more than an approximation.

This fact pained me; and yet, the tree was complete. Well, almost. The final step is to empty two bags of small, multicolored pegs into the pot/container like stones at the base of the tree. And thus, after so much consternation, I reached my enlightenment: the LEGO Botanical Collections Bonsai Tree does not come out of the box to be perfect because it is meant to be an idiosyncratic masterpiece. Each one is a unique interpretation vis-a-vis the phenomenology of spirit. It is art.

This art piece is available most places LEGOs are sold.

be me
absolute loser, peak loneliness
have exactly one (1) friend
he's probably only my friend out of pity
decide to start an online zine because why not
call it "Digital Dumpster" because self-awareness
write about obscure movies, bands nobody cares about, personal rants
get exactly 3 readers (one is mom, one is friend, one is some random dude from Finland)
Finnish guy leaves comment: "Interesting perspective, keep it up"
literally the highlight of my year
friend occasionally contributes poorly-written anime reviews
traffic spikes from 3 to 5 readers when he posts
think we've made it big
tell parents I'm now a "publisher"
"That's nice anon, when are you getting a real job?"
mfw the hustle never ends
still a loser, but at least now I'm a loser with a zine