A Conversation Beyond the Page: Why You’re Not Lost - You’re Becoming

Dedication page on The Convergence: Distances Apart, Hearts Together

If you’re reading this, I don’t want you to treat those words as something distant or poetic that only sounds meaningful on paper. I want you to place them into your actual life - the one you’re living when no one is watching, when things feel uncertain, or when you’re quietly questioning whether you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Because most people don’t feel “lost” in dramatic moments. It’s usually subtle. It happens in ordinary days, when your routine starts feeling disconnected from your purpose, when your goals don’t feel as clear as they once did, or when you find yourself wondering, “Is this it?”

And in those moments, it is very easy to assume something has gone wrong.

But what if nothing has gone wrong?

What if wondering is not a detour, but a form of awareness developing inside you?

We tend to treat clarity as the only valid state of progress. As if you’re only moving forward when everything is certain and structured. But real growth doesn’t always feel like that. Sometimes growth feels like questioning. Sometimes it feels like stillness. And sometimes it feels like confusion that refuses to settle.

That doesn’t mean you’re behind.

It means you’re processing something deeper than routine allows you to see.

Dreams work in a similar way. People often dismiss them as unrealistic or impractical, especially when life feels demanding. But dreams are rarely about escape. They’re about direction. Even when you don’t fully understand them, they reveal what still matters to you beneath all the responsibilities, expectations, and noise.

And then there are moments where life becomes personal in a way that theory can’t fully explain.

I want to share something real with you.

When I was twelve, I made a promise to myself.

I told myself I want to be a complete human being. Never mind my gender. I just wanted to be complete as a human. That's it. I wanted a career I loved. I wanted to be resourceful. I wanted to be like the tallest Burj Khalifa tower - elegant, independent, standing tall, not needing others to define my completeness, nor to define their completeness, for but for us to contribute to each others' completeness. I wanted to be spiritual, grounded, and never a hypocrite. I knew I would never be perfect, but I wanted to grow into a woman I could look at one day and just be proud of.

And in everything I consumed growing up; movies, books, people I met, I was always watching, almost searching, to see if a woman like that truly existed. Not because I doubted it, but because I was quietly preparing to become it.

But life has a way of making things more complex than childhood promises.

Now I stand here doing a job I never planned for. Although, I love it now. I carry a body I didn’t expect. Not that I don't like my body. But I have standard I'm fighting so hard to never compromise. I am spiritual, yes, but I also have days where I feel the weight of imperfection more strongly than I ever imagined I would.

And I’ve had moments where I’ve asked, honestly and without filter: “Jehovah, why does imperfection feel so real with age?”

Because I don’t always feel like the Burj Khalifa I once imagined myself to be. I don’t always feel unshakable. Some days I feel like I’m standing, yes, but also holding myself up at the same time.

And maybe that’s the truth I didn’t understand at twelve.

Strength is not always the feeling of being unmovable. Sometimes it is the decision to remain standing even when you feel everything inside you shifting. When you feel the air beneath your feet.

The older I get, the more I realize the real battle is not becoming someone extraordinary. It is staying true to yourself in a world that constantly pressures you to become something else. To bend. To perform. To dilute. To adjust your authenticity just to make life easier.

Authenticity sounds beautiful until you are the one protecting it daily.

Because it is not a one-time decision. It is a continuous negotiation with life, expectations, and even your own fears.

And yet, despite everything, I am still here. Still becoming. Still learning that being “complete” was never the goal. Being honest in the process is.

So, if you are reading this and you feel like your younger self would be disappointed in who you are becoming, I want to gently challenge that thought.

Maybe your younger self didn’t have the full picture.

Maybe what looks like deviation is actually depth being added to your story.

Maybe you are not failing your original vision, you are expanding it in ways it could never have imagined.

You are not meant to remain exactly as you once planned.

You are meant to remain true, even as you change.

So, when I return to the words I began with - for those who wonder and dream. never feel lost - I don’t say them as comfort from a distance. I say them as something I am still learning to live.

Because life has a way of testing every belief we hold. It places it under pressure, under experience, under reality itself, and asks: Do you still believe this when life does not feel ideal?

And I think that is where the real meaning of this message lives.

Wondering is not weakness. It is proof that you are still awake to your own life, that you're still using the gift of thought to search for truth for yourself instead of simply accepting what is handed to you.

Dreaming is not naïve. It is evidence that something inside you still believes in beauty beyond what is immediately visible.

Think about marriage.

You dream of being a Queen or a King in your marriage. You dream of a spouse who loves you deeply, treats you with dignity, protects your heart, and remains loyal. In return, you want nothing more than to give them the same. You imagine a partnership built on trust, honesty, kindness, friendship, transparency and devotion.

Then the world responds.

It points to the divorces. The betrayals. The dishonesty. The infidelity. The emotional neglect. The stories of people who entered marriage with hope and left wounded. All of which is true.

And before long, someone tells you that your vision of marriage is unrealistic.

But is it?

Or, have we simply become so accustomed to the corruption of marriage that we mistake corruption for marriage itself?

Because betrayal did not originate with marriage. Dishonesty did not originate with marriage. Mistreatment did not originate with marriage. Those things entered it. They distorted it. They damaged it.

So, perhaps the question should not be, "Is marriage good?"

Perhaps the question should be, "What has happened to marriage under the influence of a world that normalizes things that were never meant to belong in it?"

The same can be said about work. Your career. Your dream job. Working for your dream company, or doing the job that you simply truly love and feel, like, you were born for it.

You dream of meaningful work. Work that challenges you, develops you, rewards you, and allows you to contribute something valuable. You dream of labour being a meaningful part of life rather than life itself.

Then reality introduces another picture.

People spending more waking hours at work than with their families. People exhausted, burned out, and counting down to weekends. People working harder while feeling less secure. People giving their strength, health, and time in exchange for barely enough to survive or to feed their families.

And eventually someone asks, "Do you still think work is beautiful? Do you still think your dream job feels like a dream?" Dreams are beautiful. I don't know about you, but I have all memories of all of my beautiful dreams.

But perhaps those are the wrong questions to ask.

The question should be: "Is labour inherently burdensome, or have we built a system that extracts so much from people that it makes labour feel like a burden? Would we still see the beauty of work if it were not so often overshadowed by exhaustion, exploitation, and the constant struggle to survive?"

Because there is a difference.

I am an artist. I love painting, sketching, and writing. I even self-published a novel. Yet somewhere along the way, talent stopped being recognized simply because it was talent. A masterpiece can be overlooked because nobody knows who created it, while something mediocre can be celebrated because the person behind it is already famous, or powerful. The only thing that keeps me going in my creativity is that, when I'm immersed in it, it feels like therapy. Earning enough to make a living from it is one big dream.

And then comes the sarcastic question: "Do you still think art is beautiful?"

Again, perhaps that is the wrong question.

Shouldn't we be asking whether art has lost its beauty, or whether we have built a culture that rewards visibility more than ability, popularity more than craftsmanship, and influence more than merit?

Because art did not create celebrity culture.

Art did not invent status.

Art did not decide that a famous name should matter and get rewarded more than a gifted hand.

Those things were imposed upon it.

Just as dishonesty was imposed upon marriage.

Just as exploitation was imposed upon labour.

The world has a tendency to corrupt a beautiful thing and then question whether that beautiful thing itself was ever good.

It burdens work until people become exhausted and then asks, "Do you still think work is beautiful?"

It rewards recognition over talent and then asks, "Do you still think art matters?"

It normalizes betrayal and then asks, "Do you still believe in marriage?"

But perhaps we should be asking a different question altogether: What did these things look like before they were distorted?

Because often the problem is not the thing itself.

Often the problem is what has been built around it.

Planting a garden is a beautiful work. Building a home is a beautiful work. Creating art is a beautiful work. Teaching, caring, inventing, solving problems, helping others... These are all forms of beautiful work. which can be fulfilling. Human beings were made to create, contribute, and cultivate.

The problem is not necessarily work itself. The problem is when systems transform work from a rewarding part of life into a mechanism that consumes life.

The world has a tendency to ruin things and then blame the thing it ruined.

It damages love and asks whether love is real.

It corrupts marriage and asks whether marriage works.

It exploits labour and asks whether work is beautiful.

And if you're not careful, you'll begin to doubt the goodness of the original idea because you've only been shown distorted versions of it.

This is why dreams matter.

Not because every dream will become reality exactly as imagined, but because dreams remind us of a standard beyond the distortions. They remind us that our hearts still recognize honesty when they see it. They still recognize kindness. They still recognize beauty. They still recognize what ought to be, even when surrounded by what is.

Reality should teach us wisdom.

But we should never allow it to make us forget our youthful ability to recognize goodness.

That ability is not immaturity.

It is one of the most precious things we possess: the ability to see beauty, honesty, kindness, and possibility, even in an imperfect world. It is the purity of heart that remains despite our imperfections, disappointments, and experiences.

So, don't stop dreaming.

Don't allow reality to create a cynical perception of life within you. Don't allow the world's disappointments to convince you that goodness is naïve, that kindness is weakness, or that beauty no longer exists.

Instead, allow reality to give you wisdom.

Allow it to teach you discernment. Allow it to make you wiser, stronger, and more thoughtful in your choices. But never let it harden your heart to the point where you can no longer recognize what is good.

There is a difference between wisdom and cynicism.

Wisdom sees the world's flaws and learns from them.

Cynicism sees the world's flaws and assumes that is all there is.

Be wise enough not to be naïve, but never become so cynical that you lose your ability to dream.

Because that ability - that refusal to let the world rob you of hope - is one of the most precious powers we possess. It helps us remain human. It helps us remain authentic. And it helps us never become as cynical about life as the world itself.

And then there is straying.

Straying is not the end of your story. It is often the part where life teaches you directions you would never have understood from a straight path alone.

Sometimes we fall. We are human. Sometimes it happens because of lack of discernment, sometimes because we were not emotionally ready for what we entered, sometimes because we were misinformed, and sometimes simply because the world can be harsh in ways that take advantage of our innocence and openness.

But falling is not the final statement about you.

What you do after falling is.

There is a moment that matters more than the mistake itself, the moment you decide whether you will remain in it or rise out of it.

And this is where I think of a part of the lyrics from Eminem and Beyoncé’s song “Walk on Water; "But when I do fall from these heights, though, I'll be fine, I won't pout or cry or spiral down or whine. But I'll decide if it's my final bow this time around..."

The point is not to never struggle or fall.

The point is to not let struggle or the fall to redefine your identity.

So, when life shakes your certainty, when experience challenges your purity of thought, when the world tries to rewrite what you once believed with something heavier and more cynical - pause, yes… but do not abandon yourself.

Do not mistake exposure for truth.

Do not mistake disappointment for destiny.

And do not trade your inner vision just because the world has grown used to dimmer ones.

Return.

Not to who you were before life, but to the part of you that still believes life can hold meaning, honesty, and beauty, even in a complex world.

Because that part of you is not naïve.

That part of you is still alive.

One day, life will directly ask you many questions.

Do not let it take away the answers that once made your heart come alive.

Keep wondering. The fact that you still wonder means you are still seeking and proving the truth for yourself.

Keep dreaming. The fact that you still dream means you are still in tune with your pure heart and clear mind, before the world tainted your perspective.

And finally, return, as if it's a one-way ticket. The fact that you can still return means your story is not over, and you can still win in this life.

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful things about being human.

Do not let the world convince you that cynicism is wisdom.

Because what you have just read is not meant to stay here. Even after the words end, something continues inside - a conversation beyond the page - unfolding silently within you every time you choose to wonder instead of withdraw, to dream instead of dim, to return instead of disappear.

It is something you will carry quietly into the way you live, the way you question, and the way you remember who you are.

With love,

From The Convergence: Distances Apart, Hearts Together