At the moment I'm working with some of my artist colleagues on a new project:  things lost and found.  Although we are still in the early stages of formulation, we've had fun.  For instance, think about life and the world in which we live as a big-picture portrait of lost and found.  If this world is in a universe, which it is, whatever we may think it loses is never really lost; only "found" in a new way or new place.  And whatever we may think is "found" has in fact been with us all along.  We just 

didn't see it.    

     We will live with loss, yes, yet we will also live with found.  Loss can be difficult, it can be wonderful.  So too can finding be:  painful or beautiful.  Or both.  In a closed universe, a universe beholden to certain unchanging physical laws and patterns, these facts are not likely to cease:  it is the way of existence.  Consider, however, if the universe is only closed to itself and not to anything outside of it:  what if there is a greater "found" that we will not know until we lose the idea that there is nothing more than what we see?

     What if we are "found" in ways that we least expect, ways that transcend everything we can imagine?

     Then we will really know what it means to lose and be lost:  no longer will we be able to shape the ultimate meaning of our existence.