The Weight of Finding vs. Found

Finding takes a long time.
It’s frustrating, shaky, feels never-ending, and you’re almost always running out of patience.

Having found, on the other hand, seems like the ideal state. Or so we believe.

Most of our effort is directed toward finding the answer, but what we often overlook is that being ‘found’ brings its own set of challenges.

This is where you come face-to-face with your incompetencies, laziness, lack of knowledge, your thin willpower, and the long path ahead with its many in-betweens.

Getting the location isn’t as big a deal anymore; it’s reaching it that’s most trying.

Being a person is painful, and so we run away from it as many times as we can, to different parts of the world, hoping to meet different parts of ourselves.

But every time we do that, we feel uneasy because true ease comes from finding a home within yourself, tapping into the reality of who you are. The more you run away from it, the more nauseous you become.

I could outsource my writing all I like, or let a computer generate the words because I don’t like what’s coming out of me. But there’s peace in knowing I wrote them myself. When every word flows from me, I know I was in the driver’s seat, aware of how much I’ve driven, the distance I’ve covered, and how much longer it’s going to take.

If I chill in the backseat, chin down, staring at my phone for hours, with no awareness of time or distance, I would be lost. I wouldn’t appreciate the journey of getting there.

Maybe I don’t have to drive because I don’t want to, but keeping my eyes set on journey could give me a sense of what’s gone, what’s coming, and what I could look forward to.

If I closed my eyes in Chennai and opened them directly in Amsterdam, I might feel lost and culture shocked. But if I took time to observe every step of the transition, I’d feel more connected and in touch.

In touch? I’m not sure what I was thinking, but it was the only thing I could come up with, even after brushing my hand against my forehead (it’s not weird; many writers naturally do that, I’ve seen it).

Anyway, I think we’d all appreciate life a bit more, maybe even a lot more, if we can be there for it. After all, it’s right here for us. The least we can do is not be impolite by staring at our screens. Common courtesy, ya?

Best, Ridhi Bafna