There can't be this many bests

If you want to stop seeking, all you have to do is see

Every time somebody recommends a doctor, he's always the best. "Oh, is he good?" "Oh, he's the best. This guy's the best." They can't all be the best. There can't be this many bests. Someone's graduating at the bottom of these classes.
—Jerry Seinfeld

Modern discourse slants toward the superlative. Maybe it's a Western thing. I don't recall my immigrant parents describing anything as "the best." There was a lot of "It's fine" and "you look hungry." But take a peek online and everything skews topwise. There can't be this many bests.

It's not even clear what "best" means. In Avoid faster, cheaper, better, I talked about how "better" is a special kind of meaningless:

Better means chaining yourself to some external: your competition, technology, or the status quo. And it's murky. Better for you might be worse for me.

The oxymoronic "best" attempts double-duty as both relative and absolute—appearing in the form of arbitrary opinions of someone on the Internet.

And still, you breathlessly chase the best:

• The best 150 companies to work for

• The best trash can under $500 for most people

• The best way to learn tai chi, for dads, in under 5 minutes

There is no best path, no best opinion, no best you. "Best" implies an apex to this maddening chaos called life, but the universe is neither rankable, nor climbable. It's all around you and it changes all the time. It is neither the best, nor is it the worst.

You are enough. Every thing, every one, every way has worth. If you want to stop seeking, all you have to do is see.