Monday, November 30, 2015
Word of the Week - 91
(Truth in advertising: this is a reworked vintage post. I was 10 minutes from deadline and, well, there it is.)
Henry David Thoreau said, "Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." For today, perhaps many days, that is part of my story. Disquieting news arrived from more than one direction and, even though I feel I've found my way through part of it, bits of me have wandered off.
When lost, panic is pointless. What serves us is a version of treading water, staying in place, yet not idle. And companions, as they might be called, such as flat tin boxes of watercolors or polychromos (is it not a graceful word?) pencils. As I became lost while going about my life in my own home, I, in the only true preparedness I can claim, had emergency supplies on hand, including, in no particular order: a blank envelope, a pencil, a very fine-line waterproof pen, scissors, a glue stick, a sheet of white card stock, a Prismacolor Sunburst Yellow pencil, something red, glitter, color photocopies, paper for drawing, a good eraser, a rainbow ink pad, alphabet stamps. Bottled water and dark chocolate are also recommended to keep one company for the duration.
If there is a trick to what Thoreau described, it is to be lost long enough for awareness to sidle over and sit down, let us get caught up in its story and realize that lost is not who we thought it to be.