March 09, 2013
Not all those who wander...
First, I thought I was kind of lost.
Then I was upset I was more than kind of lost.
Then I just didn't give a fuck anymore that I was lost.
It was a little Zen. For me. Or maybe I'd reached the tipping point.
Finally, I was able to retrace my steps—wheels? Trails? Breadcrumbs? And then I figured out where I'd gone wrong. (Wouldn't it be nice if other parts of life were that easy?) I wasn't actually late for the meeting. I'd given myself time to get lost. (Look how well I know me.)
And here's the funny thing. The whole time, I repeated this quote to myself (like you do): Not all those who wander are lost. And I kept laughing. Because I was. I was so scrambled up, turned around, spin me three times and no peeking under the blindfold lost that I couldn't even tell you now where I'd ended up if I tried.
So I think someone needs to make a bracelet just for me that says: I'm lost. Please find me.
Or maybe, "Not all those who are lost are losers."