“You say you feel lost right now, you don't see exactly where life is taking you. But maybe you feel this way because you're preparing yourself for what is coming.” — my friend, Iris Kattar
If you feel a bit lost in life, you are not alone. Those wise words came from my friend Iris, who texted them to me after a long phone call we shared, both of us still reeling from emotional tsunamis for similar yet different reasons. Mostly having to do with transitions of life. A culmination that led to the feeling of being lost at sea but not in the sense that you don’t have a compass, rather that you don’t know even where you are supposed to be going.
It was a week that cracked open every part of me: solitude, death, career, love, home, and the future. It felt like a quarter-life crisis, one of those “everything at once” storms that blow through with no warning bringing thunderclouds, pelting rain, and bolts of lightning coming in every direction.
Our conversation took place when I was at a beach in Normandy and she was in Cyprus. I’d spent the previous evening perched on a pile of rocks in front of the sea, crying. At first I was oblivious to the intense golden sunset in front of me. The light reflecting off the jagged cliffs and the sparkling orange ocean stirring with soft rhythm. In the moment the only waves I felt were those of sadness, grief, overwhelm, and doubt. At one point in between sobs I looked up, saw the scene, and realized it was a beautiful place to cry. And that made me cry even more.
I don’t share this for sadness or pity. On the other hand I share this because it’s human and even though most of my stories are around magic, I think there is still magic in sadness and in feeling lost even if it doesn’t feel like it at first.
When we find ourselves in deep waters like that, we have no choice but to learn how to surf. But surfing isn’t easy without someone to show you how. Fortunately, my guides came in the form of friends I reached out to the day after the worst of my storm had passed. Today, I want to share bits and pieces of their wisdom, in case you, too, are trying to stay afloat through life’s unpredictable tides.
Iris’ Wisdom: The Wilderness Years

Iris told me she read a book about how Churchill spent much of the 1930’s out of the government. A period of time known as his “wilderness years.” Instead of using his energy to make his way into the government, he spent time writing, reflecting, giving speeches, and advocating for policies around the growing Nazi threat. When Britain finally called on him to lead the country, he hadn’t been worn down by political battles of previous years— he was ready to step up and fight back with full focus.
She said, “While this is a big example, it makes me think about every step of our life. Most of the time it doesn’t make sense, but it might be because it’s preparing us for something else down the road.”
“The important thing is to trust that we are where we are supposed to be. And to make the best out of every situation, to give it everything we have. Embrace the present even if the future after that is blurry. You are already here, make it count.”
As we continued our conversation, I took out my notebook and started taking notes. “The lows are part of the process,” she said. “It’s about knowing that when we take action, we have to let go and have faith that it will all work out.”
The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
There is a tension that happens after we take a risk but before we know what will come of it. Tom Petty said it best in song, “The waiting is the hardest part."
There is difficulty living in the in-between. We move heaven and earth, we take leaps of faith, we try. But in this blurry place the important thing is to be patient and stay true to ourself as the outcome unfolds. Even more so is letting go of the idea that one outcome is the only “right” one. It’s in these moments that forcing the “right” answer isn’t something we should do.
A guy I met at a hostel in Essaouira, Morocco has a saying for this: “Life is like a tomato sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, but it always has a unique flavor.”
I think he is right. Once we’ve done all we can and surrendered to the path, the outcome isn’t just good or bad. Each one is simply different and uniquely its own. Maybe that’s how we make peace with patience?
Speaking of patience, this morning I was re-reading an excerpt of Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet (which you can find in full free PDF here).
“Patience is the art of courting the future. It belongs to becoming rather than being, to the unfinished rather than the completed… Patience means sitting with the work even when – especially when – nothing appears to be happening.”
There are times in life where we feel we are trying and trying to no clear success. But perhaps there is something deeper in play and even though it may feel as if nothing is happening, it’s working below the surface.
What We Can Control: Learning
This week apparently was full of emotional tsunamis for a lot of people, so another call I had was with my friend Noémie, whom I rent my Paris apartment from.
She said these words that really stuck: “I can’t control the situation, but I CAN control what I am learning.”
Maybe that’s the point. That even when we feel most lost, we are learning how to find ourselves and each other. Not by chasing outcomes, but by paying attention to the growth that lives tucked hidden away in the folds of the process.
Keep Moving
We may not see a clear path now, but if we keep moving, it will reveal itself. Maybe we are lost, maybe we need a good crying session, maybe we are in our wilderness years. Maybe this is the moment to accept help from our friends, to let them guide us as we learn to surf the waves. But for now the best we can do is let the ocean teach us, trust the current, be patient with ourselves and with others, and keep moving forward.
Because feeling lost doesn’t mean we are off course. Perhaps it's the beginning of something that’s forming beneath what the eyes can see. Something we aren’t meant to see yet, only start to prepare for. And we must be patient. I guess it’s called the Long Way Home for a reason :)
—Maria
Buddhists believe that when a lot of difficult and chaotic things are going on at once, it is to protect something fragile and beautiful that is trying to get itself born.
(Which is certainly something to cling to in these incredibly chaotic times!)
I love this ❤️ As I was reading through your post, this sentence stood out "There is difficulty living in the in-between" and a question popped into my head: "But isn't all of life just living in-between (of knowing)?" Of course, sometimes we feel more secure, but most often we're just winging it with a stronger sense of confidence.