"The art of losing isn't hard to master,
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster." (Elizabeth bishop)
Beginning after ending is so strange,
Going the whole way, learning and unlearning,
Growing and shrinking. Believing. Losing.
In psychology, they say
development is not linear -
it takes the form of a spiral.
Can you see it?
You, in the roller coaster of your life.
Constantly in flux.
Progressing, then regressing.
Before moving on, you must assimilate.
You must consolidate.
And yet, you might go right ahead and do the stupid thing.
After learning better, you might fall harder.
So be patient.
Sunlight slants through the blinds,
A yellow gloom rises in the room.
I feel the soft-footed nostalgia of a thousand things
that are yet to happen. My heart swells up like a raincloud.
I'm a little lost. A little found.
A bit of a square peg,
and yet a little round.
Who I was is now folded in flowers.
Deliberated in memories unearthed in weaker hours.
Who I was became who I am,
before I could lose myself again.
A man bears beliefs like tree bears fruits -
And love and life will grab you right by the roots,
Shake up each and every one of your truths.
What remains? Spiraling onward,
Weary traveler of time,
Stand up to your full height in the storm,
Let the wind take you where it may,
Let yourself be blown away.
Let yourself be found,
In the art of getting lost.
Life lies in the gentle caress, the fierce passion
of Love. In the vulnerability of living and losing
and living again. There will be a thousand endings,
I assure you, there will be a thousand beginnings.
A thousand truths you and I will reach,
and a thousand more we might lose on the way.
Let yourself get lost.
In the depth of the darkness,
in the eye of the storm,
you will be found.
So be patient.