Often, when I sit down to write, I know what I want to be saying, but then, I sit down to write it and my mind goes blank. I believe that every direction leads somewhere, which is to say that every thought leads somewhere, though I do not know where, much less direction.
When I was younger I would go off the beaten track, as it were, in my walks in deep, dark forests. I would tend to follow deer trails, lines of least resistance in the steeply terrained woods. It was fine with me to become "lost". If worse came to worse, I could backtrack to a certain extent. Sometimes, after hours of walking, I would have to turn back and follow the way I came. But more often than not, I kept on going until I "came out somewhere" onto a road or a human trail, and I would eventually get back to where I came from. Once it took me thirteen hours. Once I had to spend the night in front of a great hearth in the foundations of a manor house that must have burned down a century ago. In that great hearth I had made a big, hot fire, dislodging an owl in the process. It was so hot that I took off my clothes and lay on the warm stone as light snow fell around me and I could see the reflections of curious eyes of many animals who were circled around the old stone foundation.
If you are lost, the best thing to do is to be lost. Being lost is even the best action to take until, of course, you are no longer lost. "Being lost" is a proper and accurate state of mind leading to "being found" or, better yet, "finding your way out." I have found my way out many times, having first been lost. But "being lost" does not mean that you despair; it only means that you are "lost and not found." We must be able to be in this state of "being lost and not found" if we are to be able to ultimately find our way out and through. And though we must be able to be lost when we recognize that we are lost, it is not to become a permanent state; we are not to adapt or accept our "lostness" as "normal," coming to live in our own "lost world." And this is what people do when they allow themselves to be imprisoned in their "lostness." Lostness is a state of mind and perhaps of temporary place but it is in reality a part of our journey in the forest until we are able to find our way; it is not meant to be a permanent state. We often say, "He is lost," implying that he's "beyond hope, a lost cause." Peope do "lose themselves" in myraid ways, but it is usually a case of reaching a point at which they "let go" of themselves and just were unable to come back again. But to be able to "lose yourself" implies that you previously were "with yourself," and I think that our culture and society promotes its own brand of "lostness" and self-disconnection in so many forms, such as consumerism, materialism, sexuality, indifference, narcissism, nationalism, addiction itself. "Lostness" is disconnection from oneself and many kinds of false identities, such as one's body, one's possessions, one's romance, one's drama, one's God.
If you are lost, do you "stay put," believing that someone will be looking for you and will find you. Or do you "keep moving" while looking for a way out. This may depend on your particular environment and local provisions for survival. If I knew I could not survive, I might stay put, but I would tend to keep moving to find a way out. We each end up doing what we do when we are lost. If I found that I could survive right here where I was "stuck" in my lostness, I might choose to settle right here and thus "find myself" in my lostness. Or, knowing that I could not survive here, I might keep going and take those chances as they arose.
In "being with our lostness," do we become it so intensely that we accept it, that we experience ourselves as "utterly lost"? Can we possibly attain an acceptance of ourselves as "lost"? And, if so, can we move from that sense of self? Once we have seen our lostness up close, do we have a sense of no longer trying to escape? Do we have a sense that we are actually finding ourselves, as in "I was lost but now I'm found." When I am "lost" deep in the forest, my surroundings are strange and unknown; I may panic in the realization of my "lostness," my inability to find my way out. But as the forest, as my environment, becomes more familiar, even more of an ally, more of a beautiful comfort that a place of the unknown, it in itself begins to show me the way out. This has happened many times in my life, but each time I had to finally give up my own certainty as to "the way out" and allow myself to be led out, to be shown the way out, by my relatedness with the forest itself. I speak simply here, perhaps somewhat metaphorically, but there is a relational truth here that truly exists.
When I was younger I would go off the beaten track, as it were, in my walks in deep, dark forests. I would tend to follow deer trails, lines of least resistance in the steeply terrained woods. It was fine with me to become "lost". If worse came to worse, I could backtrack to a certain extent. Sometimes, after hours of walking, I would have to turn back and follow the way I came. But more often than not, I kept on going until I "came out somewhere" onto a road or a human trail, and I would eventually get back to where I came from. Once it took me thirteen hours. Once I had to spend the night in front of a great hearth in the foundations of a manor house that must have burned down a century ago. In that great hearth I had made a big, hot fire, dislodging an owl in the process. It was so hot that I took off my clothes and lay on the warm stone as light snow fell around me and I could see the reflections of curious eyes of many animals who were circled around the old stone foundation.
If you are lost, the best thing to do is to be lost. Being lost is even the best action to take until, of course, you are no longer lost. "Being lost" is a proper and accurate state of mind leading to "being found" or, better yet, "finding your way out." I have found my way out many times, having first been lost. But "being lost" does not mean that you despair; it only means that you are "lost and not found." We must be able to be in this state of "being lost and not found" if we are to be able to ultimately find our way out and through. And though we must be able to be lost when we recognize that we are lost, it is not to become a permanent state; we are not to adapt or accept our "lostness" as "normal," coming to live in our own "lost world." And this is what people do when they allow themselves to be imprisoned in their "lostness." Lostness is a state of mind and perhaps of temporary place but it is in reality a part of our journey in the forest until we are able to find our way; it is not meant to be a permanent state. We often say, "He is lost," implying that he's "beyond hope, a lost cause." Peope do "lose themselves" in myraid ways, but it is usually a case of reaching a point at which they "let go" of themselves and just were unable to come back again. But to be able to "lose yourself" implies that you previously were "with yourself," and I think that our culture and society promotes its own brand of "lostness" and self-disconnection in so many forms, such as consumerism, materialism, sexuality, indifference, narcissism, nationalism, addiction itself. "Lostness" is disconnection from oneself and many kinds of false identities, such as one's body, one's possessions, one's romance, one's drama, one's God.
If you are lost, do you "stay put," believing that someone will be looking for you and will find you. Or do you "keep moving" while looking for a way out. This may depend on your particular environment and local provisions for survival. If I knew I could not survive, I might stay put, but I would tend to keep moving to find a way out. We each end up doing what we do when we are lost. If I found that I could survive right here where I was "stuck" in my lostness, I might choose to settle right here and thus "find myself" in my lostness. Or, knowing that I could not survive here, I might keep going and take those chances as they arose.
In "being with our lostness," do we become it so intensely that we accept it, that we experience ourselves as "utterly lost"? Can we possibly attain an acceptance of ourselves as "lost"? And, if so, can we move from that sense of self? Once we have seen our lostness up close, do we have a sense of no longer trying to escape? Do we have a sense that we are actually finding ourselves, as in "I was lost but now I'm found." When I am "lost" deep in the forest, my surroundings are strange and unknown; I may panic in the realization of my "lostness," my inability to find my way out. But as the forest, as my environment, becomes more familiar, even more of an ally, more of a beautiful comfort that a place of the unknown, it in itself begins to show me the way out. This has happened many times in my life, but each time I had to finally give up my own certainty as to "the way out" and allow myself to be led out, to be shown the way out, by my relatedness with the forest itself. I speak simply here, perhaps somewhat metaphorically, but there is a relational truth here that truly exists.
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