“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
— from “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost, 1920
This quote has been used by so many as a battle cry for those who choose to forge a new path. I, however, see it as a reason to get lost.
Lost can be good. Lost can be cathartic.
I have been lost these past twelve months, and I’m OK with that.
I lost my business.
I lost my house (sold – but it wasn’t expected, so I count it here.)
I lost my community.
I lost my way.
I lost my drive.
I lost my myself in a vague grief, and it has healed me.
I lost myself to books for pleasure, something I had not done in ages.
I lost myself to looking at the world through a camera lens and chasing it’s beauty.
I lost myself to snuggling my kids and making them the complete focus of my day.
I lost myself in my kitchen: baking, mixing, experimenting, feeding the soul.
I lost myself in the gym, in the crowd. No longer the one looked to for coaching, now I was the student. All coaches should have their own coach.
I lost myself in the haze and uncertainty of a future no longer laid out in the black and white of a business plan.
In losing myself, I found myself. Who is Pili? What does she want? Where will she go? I’m still working on that last bit. I do know I am not done. I never will be. I will be back here one day, a year from now, five, twenty. Never. Done.
I have let my mind and my heart wander. I have quieted, for now, the deriding voices of guilt and blame and depression. I have found the big dreams in my heart: ride a shooting star, race the wind and win, find the end of the rainbow.