Lost is the new found.

Shout out to Identity.

Photo, random Manc Graf.

Audio - Buffalo Woman.

Darling, why struggle? You know atoms are made of nothing. You are a child of the divine. IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT. Do not let the harshness of this world dampen your spirit. Let it be the air that oxidates your fire. With such a bright inner light, you will never be lost.

Chaos is what all things are born from; let it embrace you and spin you around in its maddening dance. Do not look for a fixed point outside yourself to prevent dizziness. You are the fixed point. You are the centre, the eye of the storm. Laugh as the tears flow, cackle, throw your head back, guffaw and giggle who you think you are right out of your being.

Come to an unknown space. Curious, not confused, unsteady but not unsure.

Lost is a safe space. In finding oneself, you can only be lost. Because who are you anyway? There’s never no way of knowing, and it’s ridiculous and typically human to think there is.

We can wear labels like badges. Preferences, roots, tastes, leanings, values, morals, what we ingest, what we wear, what we listen to, where we go. Declarations to make us feel less lost, to kid ourselves we know what’s going on. Purpose of being. Big or small. We need it. Without these things to tie us down, we might fly off. It's Mummy holding our hand, it's stabilisers on a bike, it’s a little green man telling us when to go, it's arrows corralling us into a one-way system, it's stand with your feet in the box, it’s a clockwise one-way system. It’s the made-up beliefs we use to signpost people to who we are; it’s the data we hand out to others so that they see us as we wish to be seen—a pigeonhole of perception.

RIP IT UP!

It’s not the truth.

The truth is an unfathomable wonderland where the Sages, Yogi’s, Mystics roam and the Sangoma’s, Shamans and Curanderas do their work. No need for knowing. Directionless, open. Seeking nothing for seeking is a game, and life is not.

You can play it like a game if it makes you feel better to add rhyme, reason and logic to something fundamentally wild and untameable. Dissecting and mapping with the intent of control and ownership. It’s the DISEASE OF THE COLONISER. Flag shagging. These flags are maps that lead us back to the nooks and crannies where it is impossible to get lost. This flag denotes who I am, and I will wave it. People like me will come and stand here also, and people like them will stand over there, and we will loudly declare who we are and what we stand for, and the main thing we have in common is the belief that we know who we are—getting lost in an achievable goal that we can all reach. It isn’t the way we discover who we are. The idea of being found is more of a fantasy, and the notion of truly finding ourselves? That’s an even greater myth.

Falling into now. Being with myself in all my forms.

I need no warm bosom, search party, markers, or breadcrumbs. Never looking, never finding. Forever wandering until the day I cease.