If you were reading earlier posts, you may have noticed a few maps. Were you able to see the map I carry in my head, you’d see this arrow pointing to a spot that is marked “you are not here”. That’s a bit how it feels to be lost. To be not found.
If you can get comfortable with this sensation, being lost doesn’t need to have a negative value. Moving through life in a sort of *not found* way can allow for exploration. Exploration allows for discovery. Discovery requires keeping an open mind and being willing to consider the impossible. (The seemingly impossible.)
Random note: My siblings and I used to actively collect redundant statements.We couldn’t make them up; we were just on the alert. A basketball coach being interviewed prior to an important game explained his game plan: “If we can put the ball through the hoop more times than the other team, we’ll win the game tonight.” Or this: “Right before the river widens, it is more narrow.”
Years ago, we heard this on the Discovery channel regarding the discovery of a new subspecies of jellyfish: Prior to its discovery, it was not known to exist.
My daughter has a bit of a snowglobe going on inside her. Shake her up and you never know where her snowflakes may fall. In teaching emotionally disadvantaged children, she once wrote to a publisher for donations, explaining that her war boys would love to read about Stalin and Hitler, Roosevelt and Churchill.
In thinking about this snowglobeness quality about her, I came across a poet who wrote a poem about being inside a snowglobe with reindeer. In her blog, she links a website regarding strange maps.
I *heart* maps (this is what started today’s blog, and so I am repeating myself).
Sample of a map I found while visiting Strange Maps:
Apparently someone didn’t want others to find Ireland attractive, eh?
This website lead me to another website: Right Basic Building explores better ways to make flat maps of a spherical world. From their website, here is a map with the South Pole in the center:
Now comes the leap.
Allowing yourself to be lost, allows for exploration. You find some great maps that do not lead you home, but lead you to where you started. A full circled journey is realized, so to speak. In this case, the daughter with her war boys and her snowglobishness led to the poet led to the website of maps led to a website that specializes in rugs of war. I did not know such things existed. Not that I like the rugs. I don’t like why there are war rugs. But I like the way discovery feels. I like the leap that is required to get here.