How far need we lose ourselves to truly lose ourselves? And need we lose ourselves to find ourselves? Is it not all but a cyclical journey back where we started? Yet why, in the process, do we never end up back where we started if we were successful at all in this journey?
I believe I have sufficiently lost myself. And thus, in doing so, have I found myself? I believe I am starting to, as presumptive as this may be. There’s a wafting hint of an old memory of myself drifting into awareness.
Yet why is it that we must so deeply lose ourselves to find ourselves anew? Or is it really anew at all? Are we not but finding ourselves just as we always have? Who is more the stranger: the unknown? masses we pass on the roads on the way to work, or ourselves as our days pass our dreams by?
We are told to embrace our dreams, and then instilled with the nine to five. We are told the sky is the limit, but are given social boundaries and expectations. The conflicting ideologies abound. We are to achieve success, but what is it?
In this precarious balancing act, we so often lose ourselves, yet not completely. Perhaps this is the truest form of being lost, for we have lost sight of what is within to cater to the whims of those around, but have not lost ourselves enough to realize how lost we are.
And it is not until we realize how lost we are that we begin to find ourselves. Whether we look up from the map given to us or away from the road to see that we have left other roads behind, at some point we must all face one reality: we don’t know what we’re doing here.
Embrace that notion for a moment. Embrace the missing internal compass. Embrace the emptiness and confusion for a moment. Alas! You just found yourself. Change your emotional oil, roll down the windows, and let the led foot dragging through your previous lost drudgery be the acceleration to your new lost findings.