Permission to be lost
A close friend recently asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks: Why are you doing this? The "this" in question was an initiative I’m spearheading to convert an old nursing home property into housing for market rental units—a daunting project requiring time, energy, and a certain kind of madness. At first, I fumbled for an answer.
Why was I doing it?
Because I could? Because no one else would? Because I’m too stubborn to accept “it’s not possible” as an excuse? All true, but not quite it. The answer, I realized later, was much simpler: I want to create space.
Not just physical space—a roof and four walls—but a kind of emotional and communal space. A place where someone could breathe, settle, and thrive. I’ve been lucky enough to find that in this community, a place where I’ve rebuilt myself, stumbled into clarity, and crafted my own path forward. It’s only right to try and leave that door open for someone else. That’s the "why."
Still, if I’m being honest, I feel a bit lost. I’ve been chasing different projects—producing a play, writing missives, creating public art, and yes, dreaming up housing solutions. Each idea feels like a thread leading somewhere, but the tapestry isn’t quite coming together. Yet.
And you know what? That’s okay. We’re so conditioned to believe that every step we take must be purposeful, that every move must lead to the next big thing. But maybe life isn’t about chasing a singular purpose. Maybe it’s about experimenting, creating, and letting the pieces find their own rhythm.
I’ve learned (and am still learning) to give myself permission to be lost. To let go of the need for immediate answers and embrace the exploration. It’s not comfortable—being lost rarely is—but it’s where the real magic happens.
This initiative, this effort to create homes, feels like one piece of the puzzle. It’s rooted in empathy, in gratitude, and in wanting to pay forward the inspiration and belonging I’ve found here in Mahone Bay. It’s not about saving the world. It’s about creating one small, meaningful ripple in the place I call home.
So, here’s a thought: Being lost isn’t a failure. It’s the first step to finding something better, deeper, and more authentic. The "why" doesn’t have to come first but reveals itself along the way?
For now, I’ll keep moving forward, one experiment at a time. After all, isn’t that how we find ourselves? By giving ourselves permission to wander?
