The thing is to keep looking--gently and with curiosity, not with the desperation of the lost. But oh how I know it feels desperate, it feels lost. But in looking back, when we can look back, we're reminded that we were brave as we walked through the fire--the lost don't choose the hard path. On the contrary--the lost stumble in the darkness, racing at every distant light, or they remain immobile, waiting for help to arrive.
But we, no matter how terribly difficult, keep moving. And though we don't always know for certain where we are or if this is even the right track, we move with determination, holding in our mind's eye our destination, not that dark place where we first remember looking around, wondering where the hell we were now.