I am relentless, persistent, and tenacious at best when it comes to the pursuit of my goals. And, while these may sound like admirable qualities in today's cut-throat narratives of achieving self-actualization, I think they grossly undervalue the merit of mastering a seemingly counterintuitive ancient skill set: silence, self restraint, patience, even humility.

I was reading the poem "Lost" by David Wagoner, which is anchored entirely on the principle of stillness. I do not know the last time I was able to be still, even more so after the pandemic. Waiting around "to be found" elicits every form of anxiety that I try to keep buried beneath my threshold of perfectionism. Silence only opens up a pandora's box of irrational voices calling for impending doom. And, patience, are you kidding me? I can't even get through 60 seconds on the microwave without hitting "cancel" at least a few seconds early. What an imprisoned existence we enjoy inside the misguided quest for fulfillment.

Can one really seek purpose without checking out of the rat race? Kazemi talks about a central paradox in Islamic metaphysics – you must first lose yourself to find yourself. I would have thought I was quite good at the first part of that equation. I never seem to know exactly where I am going. Who among us is not an expert at feeling lost? That part should be easy.

But, I realize I have been doing it all wrong.

"Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known," the poem says.

I have never once asked Here for permission. I've intruded into it like a nosy neighbour snooping for secrets. I've banged loudly on its doors demanding for them to be unlocked. I've had the audacity to tell 'Here' where and what it should be without first earning its trust, without recognizing its greatness over me, and without giving it the respect to find me when I have assumed my rightful place as a guest in its abode.

So, perhaps the art of being lost was never about trying to outrun the unknowns but rather to befriend uncertainty with such intimacy that it has no choice but to reveal itself to you.

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