made a wrong turn, once or twice…
made a wrong turn, once or twice…
made a wrong turn, once or twice…
Pink
In some circles, this line is famous and is often followed by the remaining lyric that completes the opening to a song that invites almost anyone who has ever lived to feel at home.
In some circles, this line is the beginning of an anthem, a melody, a chant even, that relates the untold stories of billions of people around the world who ask themselves the one question that life sometimes, makes very difficult to answer. And that question is Am I enough?
In some circles, this line serenades the aching hearts and minds of folks who need a reminder that no matter where they are, and what they have to face, they are actually perfect in the way they were made.
But in this post,
that line up there represents the circles we go around in, trying to “figure it out“. Circles that become cavernous pits, formed in the ground by our dragging feet and constantly rehearsed steps; of mistakes, of failures, of multiple cycles of figuring out, which leaves us face down. And when we’re face down, what plays in our heads, over and over again are the words we dread in living color, but still accept in song, “made a wrong turn, once or twice.”
I can’t begin to name for you, the many instances where I had plans that I was so sure would work and somewhere in the midst of it all, I began to feel the threads unravel before me, sometimes, even in my hands. And whether there was an actual unraveling or just a sensation of losing control, what that did to my psyche was fumble the path I thought was so clear before me.
And when those lines of your sanity begin to blur, you feel undoubtedly, most certainly, increasingly lost.
“I’ve been lost more than once”
Those moments, those seasons, those daunting spells of apparent darkness can begin to tell on our most fundamental places, and they especially begin to tug on our wholeness. When our wholeness is threatened, when that part of our core keeps taking hit after hit, assault after assault, from targeted motions and gestures of human failure and frailty, we buckle. We cave. We fold in on ourselves and sometimes, we even succumb.
“I’ve been lost more than once”
Tugged in a million different directions in the hopes of finding one that sticks; battling with the indecision of which course would prove most successful and which course would dissolve into disaster. Training my mind to see issues instead of instances, crises instead of challenges and obstacles over opportunities. And you’re right to wonder “but how can we?” How can we name a blessing, much less count it, when what surrounds us are the expressions of lost instances? And how can we choose to see the present as a present and not view what is absent as a loss?
“I’ve been lost more than once”
And it has left me reeling-
“I’ve been lost more than once”
And it has rendered me speechless-
“I’ve been lost more than once”
Left questioning the very things I was once so very sure of- searching for validation in inconsistent mediums, seeking solace in stillness and wholeness and ease. But I have also been found, so many times now that counting has become irrelevant and still enough times to know, that no matter how lost you become, or how quickly the thread unravels; no matter where you look up and find yourself and no matter how far you had to journey to know- YOU. WILL. BE. FOUND.
At the risk of sounding terribly cliche, I say, the finding is often in the losing, just as mystery is often in the known.
At the risk of sounding terribly naive, I say, one step, one moment, one breath at a time even, is enough to transition you from one instance of lost powerlessness, to one moment of perfect clarity- even if that clarity is finally admitting that “hey, I’ve been lost, more than once”.
And at the risk of sounding rude and callous, I say, be lost then. Change course if you have to. Make your mind up as many times as you need to. Live, and breathe and live and breathe and continue to live and breathe in every chapter of your story. Dance and color and paint, and continue to dance and color and paint every canvas that was meant to be touched by the delicate and still vibrant colors of all that makes you, you. And if losing has brought you to it, we say yay. But if you losing your way, is compelling you to discard the brushes of a story only you can tell by living, then I only have one thing left to say…
At the risk of sounding annoyingly repetitive, do it anyway. Feel your feelings, cry your tears, create a map and burn it if you have to but when you’re done, do it anyway. Because transitions are some of the hardest places to feel found in, but that’s only because you’re in between. Half the time, it’s not about the destination, but rather the journey. No one said process was easy. And yet, process is possible, and beautiful- even when you feel lost. You can trust that you’re in good company. Cause we’ve all been lost, way more than once.
Remember,
“Hope is never lost more than we are”
― Slaven Vujic
Words By Christina 