Here’s something I’ve written.
Why is it that found comes before lost in the dictionary?
Is it because no one enjoys losing anything from small, everyday treasures
to precious treasures to those I-never-knew-I-needed-you-until-you-went-missing treasures?
Or could it be because one would rather know of the whereabouts of his or her belongings?
After all, humans are creatures of habit.
If I place my keys in my pocket one night, it’s comforting to know that they’ll be there
the next morning.
Or could it be that it’s far too scary to lose a treasure, no matter how small in size it may be, because it holds ghosts of memories
(the good, the bad, and the ugly) that the mind can no longer reminisce about without a tangible reminder?
To lose something insignificant doesn’t bother anyone much.
A penny is a just another penny, a lip balm is as replaceable as dust.
Yet if the lost is apart of a pair, everything changes.
That blue glove suddenly holds more importance than it ever did before,
once the other is lost.
How unfortunate it takes loss to realize the ever so blatant significance of the existence of an item, a moment or even a person.
Each and every day, the found becomes the lost, and the lost becomes the found.
Old memories crumble under the weight of the new.
Childhood friends fade as new ones come along, full of vibrance and
the promise of the present.
The present, the now in today.
Not even the present can remain from getting lost for history is distorted,
fleeting and corrupt.
What the present was then can’t be found for it lies within those of that age
to know and embrace.
Finding pieces of past commitments and fears and prayers doesn’t qualify as being utterly and completely found.
Can you really find something that has already disappeared from the present?
And even if that’s accomplished, is it the same thing that was lost
or is it simply an invitation to interpret
the millions and millions of possibilities of what was actually found?
Possibility is the perfect ratio of the lost and the found.
It is yet to be determined and solidified into reality, but still able
to be seen, heard or touched…
as long as there is a dash of imagination and hours of hard work.
Hard work, work hard. Work hard, hard work.
(Many claim to do so and yet few actually do.)
Could it be that the chance of losing leisure time makes the idea of finding time
to work hard unappealing?
In the loss, however, much more is found.
More knowledge is gained, a better work ethic is developed,
the initial passion intensified.
(Some find this absolutely rewarding, while others not so much. Those are probably
the individuals who prefer to be found rather than wanderlust…or is it wanderlost?)
Lost and then found. Found and then lost.
Never to be found. Never to be lost.
Maybe that’s why the world is the way it is.
Few are willing to willingly get lost, take the path less travelled and to ask the question, “Why?”
Fewer still are willing to never be found at all.
It’s not the being lost that frightens them. It’s the shadowy truths of nature, the collection of imperfections
and the clarification of selfish desires that lay in a light slumber waiting for them to stumble by.
That is why they rather follow each other in a straight line.
Despite all this, the question remains: why does found come before lost in the dictionary?
The same reason why answer comes before question, why death comes before life,
and why I come before you.