Photo by Alice Popkorn, via Flickr Creative Commons License (link below)

Photo by Alice Popkorn, via Flickr Creative Commons License (http://www.flickr.com/photos/alicepopkorn/)

If you push, The Divine laughs. If you pull, The Divine laughs. And if you sit, The Divine says, “Another one ready for enlightenment.”
~ Derek O’Neill, from More Truth Will Set You Free

I am the light, light, light, light of my soul. I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am bliss.
~Snatam Kaur

I’m lost, I said, relieved to have found a word to describe the struggle.
Stay lost, said the voice in my head.


My husband and I had a painful conversation this morning. It turns out that who I feel I am on the inside doesn’t necessarily match his experience of me on the outside. At least not right now.

I went for a walk after he and Ada left for school, hoping that moving my body would calm the internal push-pull of this place I find myself in. Immersed in my thoughts, I almost ran into a Great Blue Heron crossing the path. From ten feet away, I watched him take slow, tentative steps, then dissolve into stillness once he reached the other side. A few more steps, then stillness. I ached to see him soar, majestic, no longer tentative.

Halting steps. Stillness. He wasn’t ready to soar. Tentative, but clearly not lost.

And so I sit, allowing this illusion of Lost to fill me, to crack me open. Lost is teaching me to step aside and let life live me. Lost is where I need to be.

I’m dissolving into stillness, slow, tentative steps on either side. I find myself here, in this place, reminding myself (and maybe you)…

Lost can be perfect, sacred, holy.

Because we’re not really lost. We’re just not ready to soar.


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5 Responses to Lost

  1. illuminary says:

    Lost is a construct of a culture.
    When I think of Lost, I think ” not all who wander are lost”
    I think” every time I find myself, I take myself off to be lost again”
    for the journey is..
    and yours is a beautiful one
    sacred and real.

  2. Roos says:

    No matter how lost you are (aren’t we all?) – I’ll hold your hand soon.

  3. Paola says:

    Hi Alana,

    Your heartbeat and something beyond touches me so…….and a million words cannot convey what I long to say but perhaps this poem is a good bridge.

    Hush my soul
    It’s time…to lie
    And pour your chocked grieving
    in my womb
    Restrain yourself no more
    The boundaries of self-containment are falling away
    Winter suspended
    Life particles trapped in icicles
    slooowly melting way.
    Each drop dense with content yet to be felt

    longingly waiting,
    to exhale into freedom.

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