Get Lost

"How many reach back for the hellishness of the known rather than opening into the unknown, with the presence and warmth that make room in our heart for ourselves and all others?" Who Dies p. 5

I’ve never felt more lost than when I moved to New York City 2 weeks after graduating from college in 2018. I packed a U-Haul and drove up alone to start my first career (racking up almost $1500 in EZ pass fines along the way because I thought “Toll Billed by Mail” meant I could drive through and they would send you the bill by mail - most definitely not how it works….).  

A few things helped me during that time of immense change. Friends for sure. Distractions for sure. Another was a song.  

It’s fitting that the song that guided me during this new journey is titled “Heading Out.” (I recommend you listen to a bit of the song before continuing).  

I heard this song for the first time during my senior year of college at a perfect little music venue in Chapel Hill. The writer and performer? A fellow trumpet player at UNC named Charlie Brown.  

“Heading Out” unexpectedly helped me during my move to NYC and continues to do so today as I learn to rest in the mysteries of life.

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"... scrap your plans, make way for something new."

I hate feeling lost. 

As a kid, my Nance (grandmother on my mom’s side) would take my cousin Zak and me on trips to the beach, Chuck-E-Cheese, and even to Vegas once. But these trips were before GPS and being from a small town, multiple-lane highways with crisscrossing exits were Nance’s nemesis. It eventually turned into a joke that it wasn’t a trip unless we got lost.  

Getting lost can be scary (like lost on the back roads at night with the gaslight on and no cell service), frustrating (“You literally have Google Maps on and you still missed the exit.” GRRRRRR), and could even be debilitating (getting lost that time hurt so bad, I’m for sure never trying that again).  

What would our life be like if we could learn to relate to this feeling of lostness differently? What if, in the moment, we could recall that so many folks discovered unbelievable things ONLY because they experienced a period of being lost when the fear of uncertainty was drowning? Like the kid who drops out of college to pursue a flicker of a dream and discovers something new, or the mom who leaves her safe job for an unknown opportunity that ends up giving her the life she knew she deserved. 

It ultimately comes down to the fact that our fear of being lost is a fear of change. The mind loves to think it knows what is coming around the corner, but a life of certainty is a life without growth. It's a life where our past repeats itself. To grow, to "make way for something new," we must learn to rest in "being lost."  

We can learn to allow the fear that accompanies not knowing where we're going to remind us that we are on the precipice of something new. As the Levine couple notes in their book Who Dies, "Fear has the capacity to close the mind, to motivate us compulsively. But fear also has the capacity to remind us that we have come to our edge, are approaching unexplored territory. Its very tightness helps us to realize that the appropriate response is to let go softly, to acknowledge it, to enter into it, to become one with it so as to go beyond to whatever truth may present itself." (Who Dies, p. 123).

"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." - André Gide

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"Your uncertainty is certain, and that's all you need right now."  

A close friend and I visited Arches National Park a few years ago and splurged on a private jeep tour (When in Moab?). I really only have two memories from our Jeep excursion: one is how we almost slid off the side of a mountain because of how icy it was, and the second is our guide's thoughts on Global Positioning Systems (aka GPS).  

We were about 20 minutes into the trip and our guide was telling us about the hundreds of various paths he had driven, so my obvious thought was that he must use a GPS to remember where he was going. Wrong. I asked him and he told me that he had never used a GPS, we later found out that he had never owned a smartphone and possessed a flip phone only in case of emergencies, and he referred to people who do as Gullible People Searching. I found this slightly demeaning because as someone adverse to being lost, I consider those without a GPS who spend extra time trying to figure out where they are going as gullible ("You have a GPS, why don't you use it?!?!?!?!?").  

"So what happens when you get lost," I asked him. "Oh, I never consider myself lost. When I'm not sure where I am I just consider it forging a new path."  

One of my favorite authors, Byron Katie, also never considers herself lost. 

Katie recounts in her1000 Names for Joy (what a lovely title, right?), "I used to spend a lot of time in the desert. I would just walk, with no destination. I would walk straight, even if the path turned right or left, because I understood that there was no way to be lost. I often didn't know where I was or how to get to familiar ground. But I was living with the certainty that wherever I was, that's where I was supposed to be at that moment. This is not a theory; it's the literal truth. If I think that I'm supposed to be doing anything but what I'm doing now, I'm insane." (1000 Names for Joy, p. 51-52).

What would our lives be like if we lived with the confidence that we were never lost? If we were able to overcome the fear that accompanies being in an uncertain space? 

What if we could live a life where we didn't have to know where we were going or how the situation would end up? What if we didn't have to know:

-when we're going to land the next job  

-when a family member is going to get the diagnosis we want  

-when the person is going to tell us they love us again  

-when our loved one is going to figure out their life  

-when we're going to stop going in circles and change

What if we could let all of that go and rest in the unfathomable mystery of life? 

Trust me, I'm not saying letting go of our need to control, something that has been passed down through generations, as we enter uncharted waters is going to be easy. It's literally why, "The word 'travel' stems from the same root at 'travail'... For centuries, traveling was equated with suffering. Only pilgrims, nomads, soldiers, and fools traveled." (Geography of Bliss, p. 83).

But what's the alternative? To stay the same? To suffer repeatedly as we engage in hand-to-hand combat with reality? To constantly resist the fact that change (unknown) is the only constant?

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"Pack your bags, we're heading out." 

So we eventually wake up and see that we can choose which journey we want to live. Do we want a journey where the path is laid before us and we're given a perfectly descriptive map of where we're going and how we're going to get there (CAUTION - as Og Mandino noted, "Never has there been a map, however carefully executed to detail and scale, which has carried its owner even one inch of ground.")? This is the path that society has convinced us will get us what we're looking for. Note that it takes a lot of energy and force to try and get the outside (the destination and journey) to match our preferences inside (where our internal map is saying we should go). We can fight and fight against reality but it will always get its perfect way.

Or will we elect for a different journey where the destination and how we get there is a mystery? (Change is Inevitable, Awareness is Eternal - Ram Dass - "When you come to the edge of all the light you know and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, having faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly"). A life where we relate to our lostness not as a hindrance but as exactly what we must experience to learn and grow to what's next.

Thankfully, my dislike for being lost hasn't saved me from inevitably getting lost, and I've hesitantly (and begrudgingly most of the time) come to view it as an immense privilege. If we have committed to growing every day, which means going beyond where we've ever been, then "being lost" (also defined as resting in not knowing) is going to be where we frequently find ourselves. Remember, the only time we can be lost is when we think we should know where we are going.

But we're bound to forget this. And when we do, and we start to get a little scared that it's all falling apart because we aren't sure where the road is heading, I'd recommend reminding yourself of these two opportunities inherent in not knowing the way:

A) It allows us to find our way back home.

Can you imagine the boost of confidence you would get if you thought you were completely lost and were able to find your way out? You would without a doubt be less scared the next time you entered an unfamiliar terrain. You would be one step closer to fearlessness.

I invite you to consider how it feels inside when we think that our loved ones are lost. I know I hate it. I want to act immediately and do anything I can to siphon away their suffering. While this seems like a compassionate thing initially, I've found that at the root of my need to end their suffering, I'm afraid of how their change will impact the relationship we have (aka I make it about me). Can we learn to be secure enough in ourselves to be there for those we love and support them when they are lost; without wanting them to get found "immediately" so that we can feel secure again? What if the deeper and more lost they get in the jungle is correlated with the amount of confidence they will gain when they get themselves out or discover something new (see below)? Let's work to develop the space to not try and immediately take away the gift of not knowing from ourselves or others.

B) We can find something we never knew was there (both outside and inside).

Can we fathom the opportunities we have missed because we opted to return to the familiar path when we started to get scared? What if just a little bit farther down this unfamiliar path we find an oasis? Diamonds are only found in the rough, right? 

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While it seems that we have been talking about getting lost in terms of finding our way outside, it ultimately comes down to traversing the inner terrain. It seems to me that if we can traverse the inner terrain, which involves feeling lost a million times within, then the outside terrain will take care of itself.

"So often, when we feel lost, adrift in our lives, our first instinct is to look out into the distance to find the nearest shore. But that shore, that solid ground, is within us." Atlas of the heart Intro p. xxx

When the personal mind is scared of getting lost and berating you for not knowing where to go, tell it to get lost. Over and over. As many times as is necessary until you can be at complete peace with the completely mysterious and unknown. 

What is Transcend the wave?

I'll never forget the experience of learning to swim in the ocean as a young child. Living so close to the beach, 45 minutes with traffic and 45 minutes without, it was practically a rite of passage.

While none of us will ever swim in the waters of another's life, the characteristics of the water remain the same. We know there will be undertows, struggles, big and small waves, times when the ocean is packed with people, and other times when we'll find ourselves peacefully drifting alone. And other times when we decide to just plop down on the beach and dive into a chilled peanut butter and jelly sand-which (emphasis on the sand).

This writing is an exploration of how we can swim in the ocean of life without being tossed by the inevitable waves of our human experience. Those turbulent waves we question when we're in the middle of but somehow find thanks for when we realize we could have never learned to swim without them.

"Just remember, when you see a big wave coming, don't be scared. Just hold your breath and dive under it." This was how my dad taught me to handle the big waves. Little did I realize that I would still be using that same advice today as I dive deeper and deeper inside to touch the solid foundation within where waves can't erode.

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To transcend means to go beyond. What we will attempt to transcend here is the limited confines of our mind whereby our preferences of how things should be leave us in a constant battle with reality. What if there really was a way to dive under the experiences, waves, that bring us so much suffering (note here that pain and suffering are two very different things)?

I think Byron Katie, best known for her teaching of "The Work," puts it best when she says,

"The single reason for psychological suffering is believing unquestioned thoughts." - Byron Katie

This writing will include many invitations to dive deeper to see past, past the past, what's just on the surface in an attempt to reach the root of why we suffer. Until we reach the root, our attempts to relieve our suffering will always end with us re-living the pain of the past (like cutting off the top of the weeds and wondering why they keep growing back). 

Although the stories in this writing will revolve around the situations that have sparked joy/sadness/anger/happiness/suffering/etc. throughout Austin's 28 years on earth, I'm confident they will be familiar with what you have experienced here.  Again, while the content of our lives may look different, we are all going through the same sort of things.

We are looking for ways to live our truth. We are deciding how to have a difficult conversation with a family member or co-worker. We are disappointed in ourselves because the same thing seems to keep happening. We are thankful because while we still slip and fall we see that we are falling less because of the work we've put in.

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In my short time here, I've had the opportunity to see the power of vulnerability and how what I thought would separate or divide me from the people I loved, worked with, and interacted with was actually the exact thing that brought us together. And isn't that exactly what we need today? We surely don't need to automatically default to believing the surface-level differences that are most apparent. We have seen where this has gotten us. We're to the point where the quote below doesn't seem too far-fetched: 

"Humanity is under great pressure to evolve because it is our only chance of survival as a race." Eckhart Tolle

There is pain today. There is fear. While these aren't new concepts, they do seem to be settling deeper in our bones. It's as if our continuing progression in solving the physical safety needs our ancestors contended with has now left us with a void that is being filled by worries, anxieties, and stresses concerning our psychological safety.

"Tolerance for pain may be high, but it is not without limit. Eventually everyone begins to realize, however dimly, that there must be a better way... this becomes a turning point." -A Course in Miracles 

My hope is that this site will serve as a turning point for all of us. A reminder to slow down to see that our thoughts are not who we are and that just on the other side of them is a life filled with joy and peace (this doesn't exclude what we consider to be the "negative" emotions). This does not in any way mean we are supposed to become numb to life around us. Instead, it's an invitation to experience whatever life brings and then move to whatever is next. Too often we store painful experiences inside in an attempt to escape and fail to see how the aftershock of those experiences (that are over outside but not inside) are still impacting us and those we love.

While the path of inner growth is one we must travel ourselves, it does not only affect us. As we start clearing out some of our stored blockages, there will begin to be a space where we can choose to respond instead of reacting in our habitual ways. A space where we can choose to listen deeply and be with a suffering co-worker instead of immediately trying to solve their problem. A space to not lash out at our loved ones because of a bad day at work.

The more we clear out inside the more we will find ourselves effortlessly floating in an ocean of love wondering why it took us so long to find something we've had all along.

I look forward to continuing this inner journey with each of you.