Sunday, January 12, 2014

Lost in the Finding

I almost titled this "'Figuring it out' and other such impossibilities."  I'm not sure when it is that we decide that there's an "it" and when we decide that "it" can be "figured out."  I think we generally use this statement to refer to "life"--as if life were an indeterminate pronoun whose referent could be easily identified.  I think that life may be more appropriately considered as a series of events in which we lose and find ourselves, and in which this series of events is repeated...forever...

It's taken me a while to realize that feeling lost or feeling as if we've found our way are equally fine.

"Everybody talked about finding themselves, but maybe you had to get lost first."  --Elizabeth Eaves, Wanderlust

There are lots of ways to get lost.  And often we end up back where we started, but armed with all sorts of new experiences that make it ultimately impossible to ever actually define any place as a start or any point an end, in and of itself.  I often feel like a tourist in my own life (I am aware that I cultivate this as a practice), and recently I was afforded an opportunity to move about the world (writ a bit more large than usual), as a more traditionally defined tourist--no home, no job commitments--only moving through space and interactions as me, with a fabulous partner in crime, taking it all in...and it had been a while since I felt this level of freedom of movement.  And, in the same space, there I was--lost and found--at once a surreal and real state of being.  And I began to think of the role of the drishti as a point of focus not only in yoga or meditation practice, but any time we need to keep our gaze outward, but also need to lessen the judgment and attachment we feel to our surroundings.  It's not dismissal or hiding, but a way of staying in touch with who we are as we move through.  I'm not speaking literally, as if I think the tip of my nose should be my point of focus as I walk through city streets, but a willingness to keep my focus on where I am at any given moment.   And one that helps me keep my gaze soft.  And when we have that, we may be able to stay in a place where we acknowledge we are lost, but are safe in that recognition.

I don't mean this to sound all navel-gaze-y.  I'm recognizing (and celebrating) the futility of navel gazing, actually.  [NOTE:  Navel as drishti= not probably our goal.]

I've been swimming in a sea of uncertainty in the past years (I've been a bit underwater at times too), and I finally realize I always have been,  AND, well, we all are.  I think this recognition can make us a little bit kinder with one another, and a little gentler with ourselves.  The water's nice, come on in; let's go for a swim.  Every once in a while I might be treading water and trying to see over the horizon, and every once in a while I might be swimming swiftly back to shore.  


  1. We are all swimming in that sea of uncertainty and are all a bit underwater at times. Thanks for putting it into words.

  2. Wandering through the maze, or the deep unknown, can be a place of peace and solace because I know that just at a fingertip reach are my soul are there, Lisa, and I find calm in that knowledge. Soul mates take multiple forms and I believe we do not have that "one" soul mate. I have those souls who enter my life space and provide clarity that others cannot. You are one of those souls for me. You are a light.

    1. This was published under my husband, Dan's, "teacheronthemove" site. But it's me, Spit <3 sending this message!

    2. Love and gratitude. Thank you for all of the clarity YOU provide in my life.