Somewhere along the way to this place I got lost, I mean, more lost than before.

Somewhere along the way my head turned slightly and my course was shifted.

I’ve been following my clumsy feet for months now, unaware of their drifting direction.

It was just yesterday when I felt a collection of hands gently tilt my face upward: letters, conversations, memories, lectures and friends: these fingers broke my concentrated downward stare. As my eyes were lifted, no longer absorbed in the ground underneath, they slowly began to focus. The blurred shadows turned to concrete shapes and for the first time in many weeks I took stock of my surroundings. And it is here that I realized

Somewhere along the way to this place I got lost, I mean, more lost than before.

Somewhere along the way my head turned slightly and my course was shifted.

This place that I speak of, this place that I now find myself, seems to be a landscape formed of mostly ugly and raw self-interest. And it is in this hard soil that dissatisfaction and loneliness have firmly taken root. These stems thrive in their new surroundings, while it appears joy, passion and purpose are in the process of being slowly strangled. Their leaves look withered and their bodies feel limp to the touch. As I continue to survey this foreign land, I am left mumbling quietly to my self, over and over again, “how did I get here?"

And although I don’t have an exact answer, only some vague ideas, this is unimportant. What matters now is to find my way back. Back to passion, to love, to others, Back to purpose, to service, and hopefully, to joy. As is most often the case: I am trying. I am trying.