The art of getting lost
Losing ourselves in order to grow
Note to reader: This will be my last post for several weeks as I head off on holiday. I’ll be back in this space at the end of September! 💚
“Never to get lost is not to live…”
—Rebecca Solnit
Last week, it occurred to me that, for several days in a row, I couldn't tell you what day of the week it was. I honestly don’t remember when I last I lost track of time in this way. It felt both strange and liberating and was a welcome sign that, just maybe, I was finally starting to relax into nothingness after six months of not working.
At the same time, losing track of the days made me realise that I myself have been feeling somewhat lost of late. Not necessarily in a difficult or dramatic sense, but I’ve been a bit listless. I’m still on leave from work, with no plans yet to return. I’ve been thinking about what I might like to do once I’m feeling better, but I’ve also intentionally tabled those thoughts to give myself space to relax and see what emerges. In some ways, I am beginning to feel bored (which I am told is a good sign), but in other ways, I simply feel lost and not sure which way to go.
Given all of this, a three-week holiday might be just the right thing to pull me out of my mini-spiral. I’m not quite at the point where I feel excited to start something new, but I also know that I need a bit of perspective. And what better way to get perspective than to step out of the day-to-day, fly 8000 kilometres away, and spend a bunch of time in the mountains?
All of this, plus the fact that I started reading A Field Guide To Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit, has gotten me thinking about what it actually means to get lost. I’ve been diving down the rabbit hole of memories and thinking about all the ways I’ve been lost in the past. There are more than you might expect! And each of these ways of being lost has taught me something valuable that I feel is worth sharing.
So, join me on a little adventure down the rabbit hole, won’t you?
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Get lost to regain intuition
“It’s not about being lost but about trying to lose yourself.”
—Rebecca Solnit
As someone who spent the better part of a decade as a solo traveler, I can tell you that I am an absolute pro at “getting lost” in a city or town that I happen to be exploring. There is nothing better than arriving somewhere and just deciding to walk and see what happens. Pick a direction, wander slowly, walk into a shop that speaks to you, buy an ice cream or some other sweet treat, sit on a bench and people-watch, find lunch in a small hole-in-the-wall joint that caters to locals, wander around some more, enjoy a glass of wine at a bar along the water. And then, only after you have fully tired yourself out, look at the map and figure out where the hell you are.
I’ve realised that these days of “aimless” wandering are so much more enjoyable than any sort of planned itinerary, so I scrapped itineraries before I ever started using them. I even took myself on a two-week camping road trip once, traveling around Europe using only physical maps (that’s right, no Google), avoiding highways the entire way, and without any pre-booked accommodation. It was GLORIOUS. I’ve never felt more free than I did in those two weeks. To have nowhere to be except where your desire and intuition lead you—it’s truly magical.
For me, this form of travel comes incredibly naturally, but I know that’s not the case for everyone. Travel can be stressful, and having no plan at all sounds utterly terrifying for many people. But I would also argue that it’s crucial to try because it’s one of the most effective ways of getting in touch with your unfiltered intuition. As Rebecca Solnit says, it’s “about trying to lose yourself.”
At what point in your day-to-day life do you ever have the opportunity to be completely aimless? Sure, you could try, but I almost guarantee that you won’t succeed. Not because you aren’t trying hard enough but because it’s almost impossible to let go of all pretense when you’re surrounded by so much familiarity. You may decide to take an “aimless” wander around your town or city or natural space of choice; perhaps you make a concerted effort to just be completely aimless. But inevitably, you’ll start walking familiar routes or paths, or you’ll remember a little boutique you’d love to visit, or you’ll decide to pick up something at the grocery store on your way home. You won’t fully manage to let your intuition guide you because you’ll be constantly battling loads of other familiar signals in your mind.
When visiting a new place, you have no familiarity so you can tap into a level of intuition that is difficult to access in other scenarios. It gives you permission to ask yourself, as often as you need to, “What do I feel like doing right at this moment?” And then you do that thing! No questions asked.
My experiences of “losing” myself in a physical place have involved an opening up to the unexpected in ways I’ve not encountered before. By allowing myself to be aimless, to wander freely, to let my intuition guide me, I also created an openness to the world and to other people that I normally don’t experience. In these days of wandering, I had beautiful conversations with locals and, in some cases, made new friends. To drop all plans and pretension allowed me to jump on bandwagons or join spontaneous outings that I wouldn’t have done otherwise. In some cases, I spent my days entirely alone because that’s what my intuition called me to do.
Ultimately, these experiences taught me that I can be me without all of the baggage that we normally tie to ourselves on a daily basis. And that is such a freeing feeling.
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Get lost to become present
“…to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.”
—Rebecca Solnit
Intuition is a superpower if you know how to tap into it. It can be something joyful to lean into when you want to let go of responsibility or analytical thinking.
But intuition is also a lifeline. In our cushy, facilitated, urban lives, most of us have become so far removed from our intuition that we have forgotten how to hear it. And it’s often through wildly uncomfortable experiences that our intuition comes screaming back.
There is only one time I’ve ever been truly, deeply, physically lost. And it felt like a death sentence. While solo backpacking in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness in Washington State (USA), I lost the trail. I was actually on my way out, having packed up camp and prepared to head back to my car at the trailhead. The stretch of trail between the upper lake, where I had camped, and the lower one was entirely across granite and marked only by small cairns. It had been hard enough to follow on my way up, but the real difficulty coming down wasn’t the hidden cairns but the relentless rain that had started the previous afternoon. The trail was grey, the cairns were grey, the sky was grey and there was a heavy mist all around. Without a detailed map or GPS, which I didn’t have, finding the trail was nearly impossible.
It’s no secret among hikers that the trail never looks the same going the other way. And unfortunately, I had not bothered to look behind me on my way up, so I was grasping at straws in the deep, grey mist. At several points, when I couldn’t see the next cairn, I’d make a snap judgement based solely on guesswork. It’s probably to the left, I’d tell myself. Every now and again I would spot another cairn and my confidence would rise. It was this confidence that ultimately led to my downfall.
About five minutes had passed when I realised that I had not spotted a cairn in quite some time. I looked around me and noticed that my surroundings didn’t look quite right. I could see the lower lake below (thank goodness) but I could also tell that I was way too far to the south side of the lake when I should be heading towards its southwest corner. I attempted to backtrack, but having clambered across granite rock for 40 minutes already, everything looked the same. I had no idea where I had come from. But if I continued in the direction I was heading, I would soon end up on the side of a vertical granite cliffside with 20 kilos of gear strapped to my back.
It was in this moment that my intuition reared its ugly head and said, I told you so. Because it had told me so, only 20 hours earlier after I set up camp at the upper lake. My hike up the previous day had been glorious, with a sunny morning and pristine views of the lower lake. As I made my way to the upper lake, the clouds had started rolling in and quickly became thick and damp. And just moments after I had set up camp, a cloud settled over the mountain and I couldn’t even enjoy wandering around the upper lake because the rain was so relentless. Everything was misty and soaking wet.
In that precise moment, my intuition said, Christina, it’s time to hike back down and camp at the lower lake. But my rational mind and my tired legs argued that I didn't want to pack up my entire camp right after setting it up, when all my gear was totally soaked. I argued with my intuition back and forth for more than an hour. There are still people on the trail, it told me. You’ll be able to find your way down now. But I pushed the thoughts away and decided to wait it out. I didn’t enjoy any of my time up there—I was basically confined to the tent. I even had to use my camp stove under the rain fly. The whole thing was a nightmare. But I had convinced myself that the rain would let up overnight, simply because I didn’t feel like taking down a wet tent.
As you already know, I was wrong. The rain didn’t stop, and I woke up early and decided to just get the hell out of there. But the problem was, at that point early in the morning, I was the only one on the trail, so there was no one to check in with or ask for help. By the time I realised how close I was to the enormous vertical cliff, I was fucked. And terrified.
Obviously you know I survived the ordeal, because I’m telling you this story now. If you ask me exactly how I survived, I can’t quite say. I was in pure survival mode, apologising to my own intuition while simultaneously tapping into it heavily in that moment. I was more present than I’ve ever been in a situation, which is probably why I don’t remember it well. I know that I knew where I should be in relation to the lower lake (again, it’s insanely lucky that I could see it from where I was) so I very slowly and carefully made my way downwards and headed towards the southwest corner of the lake. At some point, after what felt like eternity, I ended up on the trail again, at which point I promptly sat down and cried for 10 minutes. I then ran the remaining 10km to my car.
Now, I’m not telling you that you should go out and get yourself lost in the wilderness. Please, do not do that. It’s not wise. But what I am saying is that our intuition is such a powerful tool, and we often don’t have much use for it in our day-to-day lives. So next time you end up in a situation that feels uncomfortable, tune in and see what your intuition is telling you. Is this a discomfort that comes from within or without? If it’s the latter, listen up and get the hell out of there.
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Get lost to find yourself
“In order to find your way, you must become generously lost.”
—Bayo Akomolafe
From experience, I can tell you that getting lost is a crucial step on the path to self-discovery. But I don’t mean getting physically lost. I mean getting lost in your own mind. I’m talking about losing yourself so completely that you start to forget where you’ve come from and where you’re going. Because it’s only in this place of in-between-ness that we find anchors to hold on to.
It’s not a pleasant experience, to get so lost in your own mess of thoughts that you start to forget who you are. Anyone with anxiety will tell you that this is a most unpleasant experience indeed. But losing yourself doesn’t always have to be unpleasant. Sometimes, it’s just the right question posed at the right moment or a turning point that causes you to pause and rethink everything. And it’s in this rethinking and reevaluating that we find new ways forward.
I’ve had a few of these pivotal moments in my life so far, and most of my previous experiences have been wildly unpleasant. But it’s not feeling lost that is unpleasant; the discomfort comes from fighting that feeling. This is where many of us go wrong; humans are wildly uncomfortable with uncertainty, by nature, so feeling “lost” is something we tend to fight and try to push away. Or worse, we try to reverse the feeling by moving backwards, returning to a state that we are familiar with, even if it was this very state that sent us spiralling in the first place.
So how do we avoid this? Here is where I feel that this quote from Bayo Akomolafe shines beautifully:
“In order to find your way, you must become generously lost.”
The word ‘generously’ is crucial here. In order to allow ourselves to become lost, in our minds, in our lives, in our relationships, in our emotions, we must be generous with ourselves. We must find ways to feel safe and comfortable so we can traverse these unfamiliar landscapes and start to learn new things about ourselves. This safety can come in many forms: being in nature, spending time with close friends, nesting or other forms of home-building, community, purpose. If we feel safe and held, then dealing with the bigger (and sometimes existential) questions feels a lot more manageable.
I’m currently in a transition period myself, which has been marked by a lengthy recovery from extreme stress. The physical recovery has been tough, but the mental recovery has actually been much easier than I expected it would be. When this process started back in February, I was riddled with worry and questions and fears. How long is this going to take? and What am I going to do with myself? and, worst of all, What if I’m never able to go back to work?
I easily could have dissolved into these questions and set myself up for a very long road of spiralling and getting nowhere. But, fortunately for me, I’ve had my share of life crises and I knew that the best thing to do was to put all of these worries aside and focus on my physical health first. Two things happened once I did this. First, I actually managed to improve my physical health in unexpected ways. And second, the “terrifying” questions that had plagued me early on slipped away into the ether.
At some point, once I finally started feeling physically better, new and different questions arose. Because I had set my previous questions aside, I was able to see these new questions for what they were: reactions to my current situation. And my situation was continuing to change, so the questions would keep changing, too! And here is where I found that generosity towards myself. I allowed the questions to come and simply let them hang there. I did not attempt to find answers—at least not in the moment. I simply allowed myself to hold the questions and then put them away until I felt I had the physical energy and emotional safety to answer them.
Eventually, certain things became more clear and some of the questions were no longer relevant. In other cases, the questions kept coming back, which was simply a sign that those are the questions I should really be focusing on. I am still in the thick of it, and I still don’t have answers. But by being generous with myself, I created space for movement to happen. Feeling lost is a lot more enjoyable when you also feel there is movement. And so, I am enjoying it!
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Get lost to find perspective
“Time is a game played beautifully by children.”
—Heraclitus
We finally come full circle and arrive at my favourite form of getting lost: losing track of time. Unlike “losing yourself” in a new place while traveling, this one is basically impossible to fabricate. You can’t wake up one day and tell yourself, I’m going to lose track of time today! It just doesn’t work like that.
This is an unfortunate reality, because losing track of time can be one of the most joyous feelings. Do you remember the last time you really lost track of time? If you’re like me, it doesn’t happen very often. I think this is the case for most adults in this day and age. And frankly, I think that’s really sad. Because it’s such a beautiful way to become unplugged and simply relax into an activity that brings you immense joy.
Of course, losing track of time it can also be problematic—plenty of people with attention disorders or forms of compulsion lose track of time very easily, which is endlessly frustrating. Additionally, social media is the core of what is being called the “attention economy.” These tools are designed to grab and maintain attention—and not in a good way. That said, I want to focus now on the enjoyable type of time loss. Because even in the attention economy, we have all experienced losing track of time for something magical.
But now I’m going to burst your bubble: there is no playbook here. You can’t create a situation where you’re guaranteed to lose track of time. In my experience, it always seems to happen spontaneously. And it always happens when you are doing something that brings you joy.
Think about moments where you’ve truly lost track of time. What were you doing? Perhaps you were reading an amazing book, or you were hiking in the mountains, or you were catching up with an old friend over drinks, and before you know it, hours have passed and the bar is closing. It’s that feeling of, Oh my, is it already midnight? Where did the time go?! It’s the frantic feeling as you try to figure out where the hours have disappeared to, and the warm fuzzy feeling inside as you realise just how much time you’ve spent doing something that completely absorbed you.
I think we can all relate to this feeling in some way. But what I we don’t do enough, in my opinion, is reflect on what these time loss experiences are telling us. We don’t step back and ask ourselves why we just lost track of time so deeply. Time is a construct, anyway, but we are so beholden to it in our daily lives that it is a pretty impressive thing to completely forget about it.
Losing track of time is a signal. It’s an alignment of your mind and body and soul in such a way that time and responsibility no longer take up space in our awareness. Think about a situation in which you lost track of time. What were you doing? How did you feel? Now step back a bit and consider why you were so absorbed in that activity. What was taking place that you don’t normally experience? How were you being nourished or entertained in ways that you aren’t in your day-to-day? What does this tell you?
A few examples. Say you spent an entire afternoon completing a jigsaw puzzle. All of a sudden you look at the clock and it’s dinnertime. Where did the day go? you wonder. Now, take a step back and consider—what was it about the puzzling that absorbed you so deeply? Perhaps it was the problem-solving. Maybe this is something you’re missing in your daily life. Perhaps it was the attention to detail, the focus. Perhaps, on the daily, you feel like you’re dealing with too many “big” challenges, and you wish you could zoom in and just focus on something small for a change.
Or let’s go to the example of catching up with an old friend. You talk and talk and talk. Apparently, hours and hours pass and it seems impossible that you could have talked for so long. But you did! And time disappeared. So what happened? Well, it might be that you’re not getting an emotional outlet elsewhere in your life. Perhaps this friend is a really good listener, perhaps they have empathy for your situation, and having someone sit with you, one-on-one, made you feel seen for the first time in a while. Or, perhaps you’re simply not taking enough time for yourself. Going out for a drink with an old friend felt like some sort of luxury—but perhaps this is a signal that it shouldn’t be, and that you really crave more connection in your life.
Do you see what I’m getting at here? There is always a reason behind why we lose track of time, specifically tied to the activity that made us lose that time. So next time you find yourself completely losing track of time, take a moment to reflect on why. I bet you’ll gather some insights from that experience. And not only that, if you actually make some changes based on what you’ve discovered, you might just start building a life for yourself that brings you joy every single day.
And as for me? I’m going to go deep into the mountains and see how lost I can get. With my body, but also with my mind. Hopefully the time just goes with it.
Wishing you all a wonderful, time-losing week ahead!
—Christina