A relationship is a journey too. Just like any journeys, one does not have full control over matters. It is a risk one has to brave on. So how to prepare oneself for possible letdowns, disappointments, and pain? Just go, take the journey. Fall in, fall out. One has to break one’s heart one way or another.
Plants and animals are also a language, even in our reduced, domesticated English, where children grow like weeds or come out smelling like roses, the market made up of bulls and bears, politics of hawks and doves. Like cards, flora and fauna could be read again and again, not only alone but in combination, in the endlessly shifting combinations of a nature that tells its own stories and colors ours, a nature we are losing without knowing even the extent of that loss. —Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost Parents want to grow their daughters like daisies: […]
Lost really has two disparate meanings. Losing things is about the familiar falling away, getting lost is about the unfamiliar appearing. There are objects and people who disappear from your sight or knowledge or possession; you lose a bracelet, a friend, the key. You still know where you are. Everything is familiar except there is one less item, one missing element. Or you get lost, in which the world has become larger than your knowledge of it. . . This is what the view looks like if you take a rear-facing seat on the train. Looking forward you constantly acquire […]