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I've lost so many things in my life. For long periods of time I have lost the ability to be happy, though I usually find it again eventually. During the big move from
We lose our direction, lose our goals, would lose our own souls if they weren't fastened to us with golden strings. We're careless with all our things, taking them for granted, assuming that we'll always have our health, our friends, our ability to live just as we want to. One look at the world around us should suffice to wake us up and make us treasure whatever we have: health, love, a mind that more or less works, stability.
But no-o-o. We consistently move into complacency, accepting all these gifts as a birthright. We secretly blame those not so gifted: if they had just been more like us, they would still have what they have lost. What arrogance! What arrant nonsense we allow ourselves to believe. Helen Keller has that wonderful bit about how security is not natural to man, that security is a foolish goal and striving for it distracts us from more important pursuits. But do we heed these words? They come from someone who certainly knew about facing the world without security. And do we heed them? What do you think?
As I've moved on in this world of loss (oh, the things I lost in childhood), life has become a journey of acquiring rather than a journey of loss. With hard work, the grace of the Universe, and the help of a world of teachers, I've found more than I ever lost. I've found my self, my soul, my voice, my voice again. I've found my being. And as I settle in to this new-found-ed-ness, I begin to recover even what was once lost.
Memories of childhood days return, not lit by gold as one might have wished, but outlined boldly against the dying light. In fact, I've found most of what I'd lost, except for the navy sling-backs. Someone other than me got the box they were packed in, those beloved shoes, and I hope they enjoyed wearing them. Me, I've lost the ability to wear high heels of any kind, and that's a loss I don't regret.
Nothing is really ever lost at all. Life is like a big computer. It seems to gobble up what you've just written, but if you know enough (or know someone who knows enough and can teach you), you can always find that disappeared piece. It's just in hiding, taking a break, waiting for you to be ready to hear it again.
Lost things aren't necessarily lost; they've just decided to belong to another person. My favorite beret, which I had trimmed with beads and buttons, is now on someone else's head. But that gives me the chance to make another one, using even prettier beads, taking even more time with it, making it more precious and admirable and mine. Until I lose this one, too (and that would be the third buttoned-and-beaded beret I will have lost) and it lands on someone else's cold head.
Everything lost is found again—by someone.
1 comment:
Thank you Ann. I enjoyed that very much.
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