Postcard #49: Getting Lost is Part of Discovering Nothing is Lost

I am wondering and wandering, dreaming of places and people, my mind resetting itself, my moods resettling, hope is resurfacing. I still wish. It’s not a sin to wish. And it’s the wish that pushes me through the woods, out the back door, floats me to the top, the strength that sets me standing on my hands, holds me in the boat, cradles me in sleep, and guides me out of my dreams into a waking that is doing. I do not mind getting lost. It is a loss of time and space that takes me away from all the heaviness of the world — a loss I never mourn — I take time, I take space, I move at my will, have all of the wild at my pleasure, loosen the ribbons, slip off this gown of iron burden, and tramp along the shore to the destinations of all my imaginings. I want to lose being found. Go missing. Be kidnapped by goblins. Fall into rabbit hole. Seduced by faeries. Side-step into a mist, and yet, not be forgotten…

I stumble back into place. I do not want to lose myself. All the dizzy delight of getting lost can only go so far. The winter silence sends me wishing as it always does when there is not enough doing to be done. All there is is white stinging my eyes in the morning, and the afternoon snow is gray-slate-matte-boring.

Getting lost leads to wondering alone into being alone, lost alone, yet everyone’s alone in wandering alone lost. Is being lost mean having something to find? What if there is nothing to seek? I lose myself when I chase after what is missing, only to find myself waiting for me when I discover what was lost was always there inside, waiting, taking a reach into my own heart to pull out all the losing, loser gear I carried around with every sigh I thought I let out.

I don’t let the stranger me be strange anymore. She’s the spirit in flight with a base to land on. I am earth-bound and freedom-soaring, like Hawk-on-the-Wind that is my family name, my people’s crest, both my parents’ totem bird, a thing thought lost I did not know was there, only a thing of whisper, a meaning no one told me. Every time I asked for meaning, I was given questions. Irritating! Why were they forcing me to go on a journey? I don’t want to go anywhere! Give me the answer, NOW. But the meaning would not have the meaning it has now until I stepped away, ignored the path, rejected my purpose, and chased after someone else’s dream…

I am in love with my wishes now. Yet I have a new wish. Just one simple wish: don’t lose me when you decide to get lost.

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