How I Feel About Getting Lost

As a matter of fact… I love it.  Almost any time.

The only time I’m not as fond of it is when I’m with someone else who doesn’t like to be lost.

Today I got lost in Washington, D.C.   It was great.  I dropped off my two dearests at IAD (Dulles International Airport) and then attempted to get myself home.  However… in that process I somehow got myself in downtown Washington, D.C.

I was formerly just traveling happily on my way, suspecting that I might be going in the wrong direction (I was).  The sun was shining.  My radio happened to be off.  I was thinking.  Concertedly.

Then I was at looking at Washington D.C.  First that one lake.  Then the Lincoln Memorial.  Then the Washington Monument.

I was traveling on the right road, just going the wrong way, so I thought maybe I could just exit and turn around.  Well, I had two opportunities that I could have done that.  But I missed them.  So I just let myself get into the jumble of downtown D.C. and followed completely random cars in front of me, just so I wouldn’t accidentally go up a one-way.

It was semi-fun, semi-exciting, semi-nerve-wracking.

I love D.C., it’s really beautiful.  I love the architecture, the cars, the people, the city, the history, the politicians.  It’s just so cool.  I almost took an exit that went to Pennsylvania Avenue.  (I’ve never driven myself to the President’s house.)  Instead, I traveled around all the “little” streets.  Looked at all the old buildings.  Followed whatever car was in front of me.

My windows were down.  The sun was still shining, like a big smile-y face.  It was all “wrong,” but nothing was going wrong for me.  I was using my freedom.  Going with the wind.  It was an adventure and I had no idea when it would end, if I would get home in time for my appointment with my client, where I would end up, or (specifically) where I was.

I just blew along with it.  Rode my freedom.  My singleness.  My life.  Sailed along in my private adventure.

And it carried me around the capital of my home country.

Some people complain about getting lost.  They feel it’s bothersome… they are out of control and don’t know when they’ll get it back.

But that’s exactly what I like about it.  That I have no idea when I will be back on familiar territory.  I love that it’s so unknown and it’s totally up to me to figure it out, or go with it, or whatever I want.

It’s not so different for how I like to think about life… that I don’t know what’s coming up next.  What’s behind me is sometimes confusing.  Sometimes good.  And it can matter as little or as much as I want it to in regard to what happens next.

I don’t always know how I got to where I am.  But that doesn’t always matter.  It doesn’t mean I can’t go forward.  It doesn’t mean I didn’t learn things on the way.   And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m not more alive now for having taken a road less traveled by.

Eventually, as I kept following whatever car was in front of me I somehow circled all the way back around… ending up – by complete chance – on the road home.

I confess to being slightly sad when I realized that I knew where I was.  But then I thought… well, as far as maps go I’m not lost anymore, but that doesn’t mean I know the way I’m going in life.  Or where I’ll end up.  Or how I’ll get there.

You’ve heard the saying, “Not all who wander are lost”?   Well, I have my own version…

Not all who wander are lost.  But some are.

I want to be lost.  I prefer it.  And since it’s up to me… I’d just as soon blow through my life lost and cash in every opportunity for adventure that I possibly can.  And who knows? …

Maybe that will make all the difference.


~ by Eva on March 20, 2010.

One Response to “How I Feel About Getting Lost”

  1. I love this post. I love this experience.

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