MAY

MAY

Gone – Switchfoot

“Where’s your treasure, where’s your hope?

If you get the world and lose your soul.”

May began with hope carried over from the Easter season—a quiet confidence that growth was possible. At first, P!nk’s All I Know So Far

"So you might give yourself away, yeah

And pay full price for each mistake

But when the candy coating hides the razor blade

You can cut yourself loose and use that rage."

...seemed to fit the month better. Despite the lingering negativities and bad energies, there was strength to continue doing good, to resist old habits, and to slowly let go of what no longer helped. There was hope, genuine and hard-earned.

Being sent outside the island felt like a renewal—a chance to breathe, to serve with eagerness again, and to keep the inner fire alive. The experience was fun, adventurous, memorable, and meaningful. It carried the promise of purpose, echoing the idea of giving oneself fully, even at the cost of mistakes and emotional risks. Yet, returning from that place felt different. What was meant to heal also exposed vulnerability, as if the sweetness of the experience carried a hidden edge. It was not destruction without meaning, but a painful contrast between hope and reality.

This is where Gone found its place. The song aligned with an unexpected lesson learned almost by accident—an unprecedented idea that had the power to shake one’s foundations. The question it posed cut deeply: Where is your treasure? Where is your hope? It forced a confrontation with what truly matters, reminding that gaining experiences, recognition, or even joy means little if it costs the soul.

May became a month of acceptance and clarity. The experience was real and worthwhile, not because it was flawless, but because it revealed deeper truths. In the tension between hope and hurt, Gone framed the month as a moment of reckoning—where enjoyment, learning, and pain converged to redefine priorities and strengthen inner resolve.