Solitude in the Vedauwoos
I want to speak plainly and directly to an entity that I can’t quite perceive.
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Say Yes to Getting Lost
“We can take flight from our lives in a form other than denial and return to our authentic selves… Accidental sightings, whether witnessed in a brain or on a winter dawn, remind us there is no such thing as certainty.”
~ Terry Tempest Williams
Feeling stuck. Walking through mud. Lost. Nothing excites me anymore.
I hear these words shared by clients, family, friends, in my own head . . . usually followed quickly by a sense that something is wrong or amiss. It’s as if the original discomfort of feeling untethered isn’t difficult enough, that we then layer on guilt or shame about feeling the feeling in the first place.
These are natural human questions . . . am I on my path? What’s my purpose? Is this the life I’m supposed to be living? We long for answers while immersed in a culture that values focus, drive, ambition, and certainty.
It can feel lonely at times, like wandering around in a wilderness with no cairns marking the way.
And so, I want to talk a bit today about not just feeling untethered, but actually embracing a posture of not knowing.
Welcoming not just feeling lost . . . but getting lost.
Welcoming not just feeling lost . . . but getting lost.
I wonder, what if we welcomed the emptiness that often accompanies important transformations in our lives that often signal a profound shift in consciousness.
Perhaps like many of us, I was given a script to live my life by. A southern upbringing offered lots of suggestions for how to live an acceptable life – be a nice girl, go to church, never show anger or fear or . . . well, any feeling really.
The reward was acceptance and being a part of a tribe that believes the same things.
It didn’t take long to realize it was a stiff price to pay. I had exchanged my freedom and authenticity for belonging and safety. At the time, it didn’t seem like a bad tradeoff, when forming identity and finding our place in the world is a necessary priority as we age.
But, after a while, this exchange starts to feel like a Faustian bargain, trading away our soul for worldly “riches.” And so, we reevaluate the original terms, and find that the price may have been too high.
We ask: “What if the career I chose at 25 doesn’t feed my soul?” Maybe the relationships that offered companionship and fulfillment are draining now. Perhaps most unsettling, what if the activities that used to bring me joy just don’t anymore?
So, we end up clinging to the past, hoping upon hope that maybe tomorrow, those old ways of being will miraculously fulfill us again. However, at some point, we see the fruitlessness of clinging to these illusions, and let go.
This letting go may feel terrifying, like a freefall into an abyss, Or, it may feel wildly freeing, like a vast plain with no boundaries.
It’s like getting airdropped onto a vast Alaskan icefield in the midst of an Arctic winter.
There is no sunrise or sunset, nothing to signal a certain direction except an inner compass.
I see an arctic fox in the distance and I follow it. Not because I want to or need to. But because I choose to.
Like Terry Tempest Williams says, we become finely attuned to the “accidental sightings” that point the way to our authentic self.
And I speak to this emptiness inside of me: “I don’t know where I’m going or why . . . and that’s okay.”
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