The art of losing

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

In one way or another, we all experience loss throughout life. As Bishop points out in one of my preferred poems above, the art of losing is one that all participate in, though in varying degrees.

We may lose trivial things, like our keys or an hour of the day, without any serious repercussions. With simple losses such as these, we may overlook the habit that forms. It comes with ease. We may even, with time, turn calloused to the loss of the little things.

 We all eventually learn about great loss - we lose track of what path our life should follow, or may lose significant moments in our pasts. Without any conscious decision of our own, we learn about the loss of a loved one.

Though these losses all feel like tragedy in the moment, Bishop reminds us that with time, we forget the pain that comes from loss. Our wounds eventually heal, and we must continue forward.

And nobody likes to feel pain. Why should they? So why no forget? Why not push it out of our minds?

I'm not sure I have an answer here. I do it too, all the time. I push the hurt out of my mind. I occupy my time and energy with other things, even meaningful things. And I forget about loss for a while, until it strikes again.

Perhaps the real disaster lies in forgetting the importance of the things or people we have lost along the way. I wonder whether the real tragedy in loss is that our default is to forget and move on. 

We need to give ourselves time to heal. But I don't believe we should forget. In fact, I think we do ourselves a disservice if we avoid confronting the loss we experience, and we refuse to look over into the abyss. It can teach us incredible things about ourselves.

In spite of the pain.