I got lost today. It was so weird because one minute I knew exactly where I was, and the next minute, I was totally lost. And it was also weird because I was home, in Portland, although admittedly off my usual beaten path.
The thing is, it really freaked me out. I mean, I knew I wasn't permanently lost or anything, but the feeling was just awful. I called David and barely choked out the words “I'm lost” and “I just want to come home”. He wanted to help, but really, I had to find my own way. I was lost enough that I couldn't give him anything to work with to help me figure out where to go next.
Once I got home I realized just how much the experience had taken out of me. Although, start to finish, I was only really lost for 5-10 minutes, my energy was just gone. I felt off. I think that the experience really tapped into something primal for me.
At the risk of making a bigger deal of this than it was, I think in a way I was dealing with my own sense of vulnerability and, ultimately, of mortality. The experience of knowing where you are one minute and then, one wrong turn (or wrong move, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time) and what you thought was reality, isn't. And, of course, that's how life really is when we are able to see past the illusion that anything is certain.
So there it is — one day I give you applesauce cake, and the next, this! But there is an upside: although I am now over the immediate feelings that being lost brought up, I am very much aware of what it means for me. It means that I want to spend this weekend enjoying my time with my little family; appreciating them and the time I have with them. And appreciating being found.