Nin despaired. “It is as it was before, before I left my home. I am lost—pulled in many conflicting directions.”

“Some would say the search, the struggle, and the suffering is the valuable part,” replied the bluebird. “But perhaps they are just masochists!”

This elicited a small smile from Nin.

“If you are lost, how can you find your way again? Stop, get your bearings, ask for directions.” The bluebird gestured towards a distant peak. “If you asked the cardinal how to get to that mountain, he would advise you to fly straight and true.”

“Perhaps he would,” said Nin.

“But ask a salmon, and he would tell you to follow the river to its source. Comely doe will say, ‘Travel the deer path through the pine.’ And the white wolf knows to track the deer. None of this advice is contradictory, the destination is the same.”

And the bluebird sang:

I was arguing with my mate

we grew so angry we parted ways

I flew west, she flew east

we flew for eighty days

then bumped headlong into each other again!

Perhaps that is love?

“So none of us are truly lost then?” asked Nin excitedly.

“No—many beings are lost, more than you will ever know. But not a seeker, never a seeker. At worst a seeker can only take a very long detour. No, my friend—a seeker is never lost as long as he still seeks.”