Beverly HIlls, December 20, 2024
Whilst pumping gas, a woman at the next pump whimpering to her partner, “I’m lost.”
Shuttling to a crisis call from Madison Wisconsin a few days ago, the same words, ”I’m lost.”
The soul crying out in confusion and malaise.
When Gian Carlos Menotti’s opera “The Consu;l” was my soul friend in a time when reality was a blur for myself:
Lost is a place of patience, of waiting… a bridge between worlds that can morph into strength and power if you go deep into the fear beneath it. It feels hopeless but it is not. Patience.
Patience. A bridge. One that is not being exercised in this world of rush rush rush.
And Pooh said to Piglet, “Let’s go hunting.”
And Piglet said to Pooh, “Okay. For what?”
Pooh sniffs the air and sets off, “For Patience.”
Piglet whispers, “And hopefulness.”