What is Lost and Found?
There is nothing quite like the feeling of being lost. When I was 7, I remember visiting family in Virginia, and we decided to go to Chincoteague to see the annual Pony Swim. According to the Assateague Island website, "approx. 40,000 visitors wait along what many say is a 'very crowded' shoreline. Large numbers of people wait for long hours in an area that's quite a considerable distance from the swim where the restrooms are located." Now, I don't quite understand why watching horses "swim" across the Assateague Channel for 3 minutes is worth standing for hours in the blistering heat---perhaps I need to pick up a copy of "Misty of Chincoteague"---but there we were among the crowd, anxiously awaiting the big, albeit short, moment. As you would expect of most 7 year old children, I was bored, confused ("why are we here, mom?"), and restless, so I decided to search out the bathroom alone with my imagination as my guide.
Fantasy doesn't always adhere to a map, though, and when I realized that I didn't recognize anyone around me, panic set in. Where am I? Where are my parents? Which way do I go? Though my heart lead me away from my family, it couldn't come up with the answers fast enough to keep my mind calm; fear gripped me and wouldn't let go. Will I ever see them again? Will I be lost forever? What will I do alone? These are tough questions for people of all ages to consider; for a child, the lack of awareness and maturity can create an impossible situation as they face these existential roadblocks. Yet, children are equipped with one thing that adults seem to lack when they encounter these types of barriers: imagination. Sure, I could argue it got me "lost" in the first place, but once I accepted the fact that I didn't know where I was and trusted in others to help me, I found a police officer. I don't remember how the conversation went exactly, but the next thing I knew, I was sitting on a stool on top of a pick up truck thoroughly enjoying the view, some food, and a drink.
While feeling lost can evoke overwhelming terror, being found is incredibly gratifying. I remember my parents walking up to the truck; my excitement to see them couldn't be contained. Their hugs felt more comforting, their voices sounded more loving, their eyes beamed with more joy...though the experience literally tore us apart for a brief time, it brought us closer together in the end. Of course, getting lost nowadays is a lot more difficult with geotracking, but what happens when I get emotionally lost? How do I find my way when the path isn't discovered by plugging my destination into my phone for directions? A quick search in Google Maps for "happiness" only brings up nearby Thai and Chinese restaurants, a dentist, and a bakery. Cookies may give me some momentary delight, but not the kind of long-lasting experience I'm seeking.
I'm sure you've heard the saying, "Every time you lose something, you always find it in the very last place you would look." Of course, once you've found whatever you're seeking, you will stop searching...duh! This week, my Name Game discovery was Lost and Found, and much like last week's Fearless, I spent time considering the meaning, and how it relates to my life. Similar to Fearless, Lost and Found gave me an opportunity to look at two sides of the spectrum, and I traveled back in time to understand the feelings associated with being lost compared to being found. This lead to some isolating moments, such as when I got lost in Virginia, but one particular memory stuck out among the rest: the launch of Web Unspun.
Now, I should preface by sharing that I believe being emotionally lost means a separation from the heart. As I looked back at past experiences, the painful exposure to loss was attributed to my lack of trust and acceptance of my authentic voice. Yes, I made sounds regularly with my mouth to convey some semblance of meaning, but in piecing together the emotional scars, I recognized how my heart became less of a guide for my voice. Rather, I opened the map of others' expectations, media portrayals of "normalcy," and the perceived happiness of my peers to determine my path. Though I could feel how I was veering off course, I'm a stubborn person, and I insisted that if others found their way through their careers, relationships, and physical appearances, that must be my way too. I set out on the arduous task of aligning myself with others' ideals, which made me even more miserable as I drove further away from my soul. I didn't want to feel the devastating isolation, so I surrounded myself with people; however, I was growing more disingenuous and guarded, making my relationships more of a status symbol than a true connection. If this paragraph seems to be just a jumble of confusing emotions, that is what my "lost" feels like: it undermines my strength and determination, leaving me to feel powerless through the barrage of negativity.
I arrived at my darkest moment in 2016. I had the career, the relationship, and the physical appearance that I believed would lead me to the happiness destination, but a significant piece of me was still lost: my soul. As Yehuda Berg maps out in The 72 Names of God, "There are times when we find ourselves off course in the journey of life. We feel lost. Bewildered. Confused. Life becomes an endless labyrinth, and we don't know which way to turn" (187). As I mentioned, it's a scary proposition to ask existential questions when you're feeling lost, particularly when you lack the soulful imagination to trust and/or accept the answers you're given. A turn back to my About page reminds me how painful the experience was; if I couldn't find happiness the same way as everyone else, there must be something wrong with me. Perhaps I wasn't meant for this world, and I should accept my fate of death since life was such an isolating experience already.
Choosing life rather than death, I arrived at a fork in the road: continue on in the same direction as before, seeking happiness in the form that others seemed to find it or set out on a new path, guided by my heart, with no certainty of happiness at the end. As stubborn as I was, I chose the new path, which was the last place I wanted to look. If you've followed along with my Web of Destiny entries, you know it hasn't been an easy choice; I've been confronted by all the things that stood between me and my soul, but it was even more isolating when I held these experiences in. There was a span of time (March 2016 - June 2017) when my authentic voice really only saw the light in the presence of those I trusted the most, but even then I would typically have to be high or drunk to share it. It terrified me because I still lacked the acceptance and trust necessary to express it openly. I was journaling regularly and making strides forward internally, but the external judgment that was lurking around each corner left me turning in a different direction, throwing me off course.
Then came the moment of truth: my heart lead me toward launching a blog that would chronicle the journey to find my soul. It would say EVERYTHING. It would push me well beyond my comfort zone into exposed territory with no place to hide. This, as you can imagine, was a gargantuan leap for someone who was more comfortable feeling hidden and lost. I spoke to my closest friend about the idea one night, weighing my fears against my soulful expression, and she urged me on. While I firmly believe the road map to our destiny lives within us, not through the expectations of others or the geotracking of our devices, our ability to be authentic with those we love most encourages the trust and acceptance we must recover in order to be found. Mind you, I did not say that they are responsible for finding us though, that accountability lies solely with the individual.
You know the rest if you've followed along the Web Unspun journey with me. I am here living in the present moment and finding the happiness that seemed so elusive previously. Am I saying that everyone should launch their own blog, uproot their entire life, and head on a road trip across the country? No...that was my path toward finding the acceptance and trust I needed to love myself, the world around me, and the universal power. We each have our own. Do I have an ETA on arriving at prolonged and sustained happiness? Nope, but each time I listen to my heart and follow my soul, I feel that same sensation I did when I was 7 and my parents found me, except this time my own touch feels more comforting, my voice sounds more loving, and my eyes are beaming with more joy. It certainly is a dramatic shift from how lost I felt in 2016; I can look back now and see how far I've come. Have you located your happiness?