I hate not being able to find things.
When I'm looking for something, no matter how unessential or mundane--a pen, a particular flyer--I go a little nuts. I tear the house apart. I feel like my world is turned upside down even as I upend pillows and turn out pockets looking for whatever thing is missing. Failing to find something feels like a betrayal (by whom, don't ask), and when I eventually do find whatever went missing, I feel both relieved and sheepish, embarrassed, even, that I spent so much energy trying to find some momentarily essential object.
Is it the same with us? Do we upend our world looking for spiritual wholeness, absolution, or real connection? Do we spend our lives feeling turned inside out as we search for deeper meaning, only to be embarrassed as what we find turns out to be lacking? What would it look like to search deeply, truly: would we find what is missing, or decide we didn't need it, not really, in the first place?
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