The One Art That I've Mastered

"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

Indeed, indeed, indeed, indeed. If there is this one art like that I have mustered up the courage to master, it is the art of loosing. The art of loosing voluntarily, the art of giving up, the art of not looking back upon the things I lost, the people I left behind and the art of loosing parts of me, which at some point had seem integral, but now no longer seem to matter.

After much ado about fulfilling every minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run--ala Kipling-- I have finally mastered the art of loosing hours everyday to wakefulness and lapses in memory and blanket confusion.

Loosing no longer seems like a harsh word or defeat. It's more of a coping mechanism.I've lost my obsession for perfection, I'm lost the ability to rest and I've lost the will to do anything about correcting these loses. And for once, I feel free. I also feel proud because I've finally mastered the art of loosing, without feeling shame.