We found we
What happens when I find what it is I am looking for? Is it found when I name it? Or understand it? Or is it in the touching - holding - grasping of it? Is it only truly revealed in the grieving of its loss? And how dare I say ‘it,’ offering no respect for what I am given in the finding. Am I not found by it? We find each other. And in the finding, does the moment tic by from ‘find’ to ‘found’ as if spent without notice? The verb tarnishes the meaning conveyed. We are together found. We are we. We found we.
Silly abstractions? No, a test of the boundaries of words.
Finding is both a meeting and a realization of personal fulfillment. I am free to decide what I want, what I will seek, and I create the moment of awe in encountering what I sought. There is a kind of love in seeking. One might call it passion-driven, when the seeking is wholehearted. But let me sober from feeling myself as master of the world, for I am reminded that whom and what I love most deeply found me when I didn’t know what I was looking for. I recognized it in that precious moment; I said ‘yes;’ and I have been working ever since to nurture that love and honor its worth. Moments are not unlike holidays that require preparation and stress and work to build a little window of time in which to smile and sit back sated - they are part of the human ritual, which mimics the seasons and nature’s tectonic events that erupt to transform the earth. The immovable obligations of the season present an opportunity to acquiescence, to cooperate, to embrace and allow ourselves to be found.