GETTING LOST

The other day, I was reading about a man who had gotten lost on a hike in the mountains. I was most interested in how long it took him to realize that he was in fact lost. Evidently, we are always making mental maps of where we are - the familiar like your house or the way to your office. When we're in unfamiliar places, we need some time to orient ourselves. We try to construct maps of where we think we are and where we think we're going. The man in the mountains had a image of a lake that should have been up ahead. Even when he could see that the terrain wasn't matching what he knew it should be, he kept thinking the lake was just over the next ridge. He couldn't register where he was and continued to believe he was on his way to where he wanted to go. He rushed ahead trying to get over the next ridge and used up energy, made bad decisions about what he was capable of, ignored the growing danger of being alone in the woods. 
     He was lost in the mountains for five days and it was only on the fourth that he came fully to realize and to accept that he was lost. He stopped trying to make his surroundings conform to some idea in his head. He began to map out where he was and focus on what he needed to do to survive. Rescue came on the fifth day.
     I hardly need pick out the metaphors. Rushing to make reality conform to my own mental maps. Continuing to deny the reality of where I actually am. Using up precious energy in denial. Wanting so much for something to true that I can't see what's in front of me. 
     In a sense, this is the human condition. Each of us wants what we want and sometimes desperately so. We all are sometimes blinded by our ego wants and needs and can't see beyond them. We can run for a long time before we notice we're not getting any place at all, that in fact we're lost, without a clue about what to do next. Anxiety and dread build because some part of me senses that something is wrong, I'm afraid to be "lost". But it turns out getting lost isn't the worst thing; the worst thing is continuing to insist that I know where I am. 
     Eventually, the bubble of denial has to burst and then comes the moment of surrender. It's the moment when I accept that I've been holding on to illusions and wasting my energy, my creativity, by insisting on my own distorted version of reality. I open my hand and anxiety and dread dissolve and I feel energy because they are no longer sapping me. I surrender and don't fall into the abyss. Instead, I float free, able to see what is. In that moment of clarity, a path opens up, one that will take me where I want to go. I find a place of refuge inside which is always my home. I can't get lost. I carry my home with me.