Getting lost

“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.

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