Clue hunting! One way to re-find your truer path/self in life

Every so often, we find ourselves feeling slightly off or way off our path in life or completely lost from who we are and what we deeply want to be and do next. I'm at a life-transition point myself right now. I swing from lost and sad to elated and full of energy about where I am. Some days I'm a total mess. Some days I think to myself "Congratulations! You're alive! And you're safe enough to be noticing, unlearning, growing, and changing. You're curious and wanting something better– more real, more loving, more connecting, more meaningful, more you– than where you are. You're so lucky!" Which of these Me's you'll get on any given day right now is as much a mystery to me as to anyone else.

Being here and knowing this– wow, I'm really not myself, really off my path– often sucks. Being aware of this can be painful and it can be isolating and confusing and foggy and frustrating and even terrifying while you're alone in it. Your body can sense that you may have to give up something known or comfortable for something real again. You may have to let go of places, relationships, ideas, or things you once needed or loved and that you still believe you need. Let go of something or someone– including a former version of yourself– someone who got you here. Or reimagine relationships for what you have to give now. Or you may have to take a leap when you can't see where, exactly, you'll land. Or take a series of leaps. Rely on people, even strangers, in new ways. Be willing fall off an emotional cliff, trusting that a new net will appear.

Yes. That's where I am.

I'm off my old path again. Trying to get to know an emerging new self. Again.

Yes.

Welcome to the land of the lost

Lost? Don't know exactly who you are anymore or what you want next? Ok. You're in the right place.

Welcome.

There are no maps here.

There will likely be a period of Disorientation. Disconnection. Difficulty. This varies from person to person– and how often you've been lost before– but here you will feel Sadness. You may also feel Worry. Or Depression. Lethargic. At some point, Empty. Confused about what you're doing or who you are. Less interested in things you used to love or be. You'll possibly feel Anxiety. Blame. Rage. Wanting to be alone or disconnect from the world or the people around you for a while. There's a lot of Wondering and Reflection (which helps me here– I LOVE to wonder and reflect). There's usually, eventually, Leaning on Your Own Intuition. Typically, Against Your Better Judgement (which is really just old judgments and stale cultural or family beliefs or ideas that it's time for you to let go of). Which may eventually lead to Relationship Changes. There may be Leaving. Losing Someone or Something. Fighting. Standing Up for Yourself. Quitting. Changing Jobs. Moving.

Being lost may take weeks, or months, or even years. Adults like to imagine and believe that we can be in charge of how long being in the land of the lost takes. Adults have a lot to learn. At least where I live. We are NOT in charge of this. It takes as long as it takes. Much like forgiveness. True forgiveness shows up like pet hair on black velvet pants: when it wants to and with such remarkable persistence that you eventually just change how you feel about it because it's easier than fighting it anymore.

I could be wrong, of course. That happens all the time here in the land of the lost. And. Having been through the land of the lost many times now, I no longer believe that we're in charge of how long being lost takes. There are too many factors out of our control. And. Being out of control, and re-learning to lean on the world and people around us, and deepening relationships, and then remembering how to lean on ourselves and our intuition and our innate ways of being and strengths– within a world of other innate ways of being and strengths– again, is part of the experience of being lost. We enter this land clueless and– whether we know it or not– because being here tends to return us to the land of Belonging for longer and longer periods of time. Trying to rush past the hard parts of being lost may feel like it works, at first, but rushing tends to land you right back in the land of the lost faster. Or, you end up figuring out that you distracted yourself really well for a while but that you, in fact, actually never left the land of the lost.

What some people will try to tell you is the good news about being lost/off your path/not certain about who you want to be next

When you're in the land of the lost, some people will show up and try to help you by offering you the upside of where you currently are. A platitude is a trite or thin or stale remark or statement, especially when shared as if it were original or significant. Most platitudes are really kind of bullshit. Or, better yet, as my niece would say, sus: that is, giving the impression that something is questionable or dishonest– suspect. Beware people offering you upsides when you're in the land of the lost. It's like saying "He's in a better place." to someone freshly grieving the recent loss of a beloved human or pet. That makes you, what? The worse place? Ick. That's not what you need right now.

Hearing the following platitudes doesn't make where you are right now, today, any easier, and these words can actually make you feel worse about where you are:

• The good news is that there are far worse places to be than here where you are: admitting to yourself that you're lost and off track on who you really want to be. A whole lot of humans are way off their path and trying to live their lives while completely hiding from the truth that they're unhappy, lost, miserable, exhausted. Um, yeah. Been there, done that. Recently, actually. A good chunk of 2024, actually. Hiding from your own emerging truths, and emerging self, and difficult things you need to feel and admit and share with others is exhausting. People off their path don't need to be told additional exhausting things, like this. If they're at all like me when I'm off my path, they're already fan-frickin-tastic at exhausting themselves.
• The other good news is that you are safe enough (or privileged or lucky or blessed enough) to be caring about this at all. There are a lot of people and families on earth right now who are in so much physical danger that they literally don't have time to worry about not being themselves and being off their own paths. Basic survival occupies all their time. People surviving in genocides. People without homes. People living in war zones. Without enough food. People in prisons and concentration camps. People hiding from both racist white supremacists posing as ICE and actual ICE posing as people present to help the community when truly in it for themselves. True? Yes. Sure. And. When you're lost, off your path, struggling in a fog about who you are and what you should be doing next, you don't need to be told this. You're carrying more than enough already. Remember that some people, when off their paths long enough, may be so down that they're considering suicide. Or homicide. Telling them that their problems don't matter in the grand scheme of larger problems in the world is both cruel and wildly untrue. We all matter. And growing and changing into better, braver, more awake and alive versions of ourselves– what's happening under the surface in the land of the lost– is a fantastic thing to be doing with our time.

Bottom line? In the land of the lost, beware of platitudes.

If you've received or given these or other sus platitudes about times of transition, about being off your path or figuring out who you want to be next, please write them down and then destroy them somehow. Let them go. Watch them go. Or, share them with friends or family and agree to let them go together. Tired, stale, judgmental platitudes tend to emanate from people who are, themselves, a bit lost and who may not even know it. No need to judge the person. That's more energy draining. Just ax the platitudes. Most platitudes tend to be the opposite of help.

We don't need to receive bullshit or sus words from others when we're off our path. When we're changing and not sure who our emerging new selves will be yet. If you're anything like me when you're off you're path, you're already holding and creating more than enough bullshit and sus thoughts of your own.

And, if you want to offer supportive words to an adult walking through the land of the lost, keep it short. Listen, stay present, and occasionally say things like:

• I hear you.
• Yes, this really sucks.
• I'm here.
• I'm still here.

The actual good news

In the land of the lost, you're on a journey to become and find your own new self and your own good news. Nobody can tell you what that will be. The only thing I can say is that the first piece of good news (which doesn't feel like good news at the time) that I tend to stumble upon in the land of the lost is saying one of the following things, out loud, to someone else:

"I'm really struggling."
"Everything feels foggy and horrible and strange."
"I have no energy and no direction."
"I'm not happy with ________."
"I feel lost."
"I'm so alone."
"I hate the whole world right now."
"I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing right now!"
"I built this life. I loved it so much. I just don't love it anymore."
"I feel trapped."
"I'm terrible. Selfish. Ungrateful. How could I not want what I myself built?"

And, this time around, my good news emerged when I found myself yelling:
"I don't need a fucking therapist! I need family!! I need community!!!"

Wow. I actually identified what I needed and what I didn't need in that last one. Progress! :-)

Not so much progress that I didn't scream it at a person who loves me who was only trying to help. ;-)

Anyway, by admitting, naming, and sharing where you truly are right now, and how you truly feel, out loud, you are– in that instant– no longer completely alone. That's good news. Those who once felt and/or who currently feel the same way you feel right now can find you now. And, you can now find them. More often than not (at least for me) who shows up or who I find is not exactly who I thought it would be. Can be strangers. People who'll become new friends. New family. New community. Or a new pet. Or a new-to-you plant. Or a bird that shows up outside your window. A neighborhood tree or field that seems to listen and care. It could also be someone(s) you already know: those feeling as lost or as tired of things the way they are in their lives as you're feeling about your life. Those willing to go deeper with you now.

So many human beings stand in this lost place now. So many, many, many more have stood in this lost place before us. Wondered who they were. Wondered what to do next. Stood in the fog, no path ahead, not certain what to do. Exhausted. Struggling. Even terrified. Those people left us clues. They left us clues!!!

That's the other good news in the land of the lost.

Clues.

Clue hunting is one way to re-find your truer path/self

Yes, being lost sucks. When you're lost, many of your old ways of being no longer work. Extensive planning definitely doesn't work because you don't know the destination or even the players/fellow travelers yet. You know you aren't a fan of who and where you are anymore but who you'll be next and where you're going is a mystery here.

And. Life's short. Why not try to have a bit of fun along the way? Even here. Even now. In the land of the clueless and worrying about everything. The land of the always-down (or always-angry or always-blaming or lonely or terrified or you get it). The land of the lost tends to be where we get stuck, trapped and alone, in a circular pattern with one or more energy-draining emotions. ALL EMOTIONS ARE GOOD. Useful guides. And. Getting trapped, stuck, and alone, for weeks, months, or years, with one that drains your energy, isn't good.

I've found that returning to my true path/self can be a simple two-step process when I complete the steps fully, which I rarely, almost never, do. Remember, the steps take as long as they take. Make your own two steps if you'd like. That could be even better than trying mine. I've noticed that my own two steps change a bit with time. You can see the steps that worked for me in 2012 in What the hell is my story? The following steps are where I am today, personally, now. And, still, trying to rush through the hard parts alone does not work. I keep hoping if I say that enough times out loud it might stick.

My current two steps:

1. Stop trying to know everything ahead of time. Never gonna happen, my friend. Give that up. Just surrender. For me, the primary difference between knowing I'm on my path– knowing who I truly am and happily doing what I'm here to do– and realizing that I'm lost is that when I'm on my path, I have just one or two primary worries. All the rest I can let go of, because I'm aware of how many other beings (not just people– stop always centering people Lori!) are competent, capable, and here to make life work for the benefit of all. That's possible: in the land of belonging. Not possible in the land of the lost. When I'm lost, I feel alone, so I gather worries like just-ripe apples plucked off the tree, then I quickly have way more than I can hold, and then things get exponentially worse from there. This summer I learned that it's possible to realize you're lost and to just be ok with that. Just float. No plan. No purpose. Just be good and lost for a while. Its feels so strange to be happy to be lost. And, so many people won't understand. So many people confuse being lost with being somehow unwell and unsafe. I'm more ok with other people not understanding me and what I'm doing now than I was in the past. I'm lost. That's me. And that's where I've been the past four months: ok with– content with– being lost. Not all day. Not every day. But often enough for me to have this breakthrough: I belong here too. I'm beginning to feel at home in the land of the lost. Ok with fog. Ok with shadows. Ok with not knowing. Some days.
2. Start looking for clues about who you might be next (and already) and where you may end up next. Instead of gathering worries, start gathering clues. Not plans. Not certainties. Not worries. Just clues. Hints. Fleeting thoughts and emerging ideas and hints about who you are now and who you're becoming. Momentary emotions that you notice. People and things you resonate with today. Gather them somewhere that you can look at or re-listen to them all together (notebook, journal, collage, email folder, etc.). Here are some places I've found myself clue hunting this summer and early fall:

• Find a person who felt this same exact way– lost– from a time before you were born. Maybe someone who had something else in common with you. Listen for the clues they left. On both my best and worst days, I'm a poet. I'm an essayist the other days. I just re-read East Coker by T.S. Eliot. This link takes you to an online version, but if you want to read the whole thing I recommend finding an actual book and reading it. All web pages that share it are FAR less satisfying than a book or ebook. Anyway, this poet is one of my few deeply-beloved-across-my-whole-adult-lifetime old white dudes. Writing about, understanding, and speaking about his long, complex poem The Wasteland was a pivotal moment in my undergrad years– a moment I found new confidence in myself. Seeing things that the teacher himself– a poet, too– didn't see? That was new! This work was published in 1940, many decades before I was born. It's long. Strange. If you decide to read it and you feel your mind drift at some point, don't stop. Instead, skim forward and find words that sing out to you. The words that resonate with you are YOUR clue. Your clue will be different than mine. Wow, do some of his lines sing for me. How in the bloody hell did he know exactly how me being so lost feels?! And what I felt and thought just last week?! How is it that he simultaneously fiercely struggles with and also celebrates being lost?!! It's lovely to know that someone considered a genius by many felt as utterly, remarkably adrift and lost and alone as I've felt.
• Find someone from your own ancestral line or history who felt lost. Listen for clues. Find and read or watch their story, or ask a community member to tell it, or, if they're still alive, ask them to tell some of their stories. Ask things like Was there ever a time when you felt lost? Like you just weren't where you wanted to be or who you wanted to be anymore? What happened? There's deep joy to be found here. Wading through deep sorrow and anger and guilt and loss and resilience and new insight with someone else is usually part of it. Keep listening for those words that sing for you. And feelings that resonate. Your body knows when your CLUE is present before your brain does. Goosebumps, hair on your arms rising, mouth dropping open in wonder, fists clenching or opening, stomach tightening or relaxing, or even mindless sounds and long silences you make in response, such as "Huh... Wow."– all are signs that your clue is present.
• Find something you created and love from your own past. Watch for clues. Maybe find some words you wrote. Or a painting you created as a kid. Or a story you remember writing or telling. A scarf you knit. A card you made. It doesn't have to be something you consider artistic. Could be a recipe you crafted or a note you left for yourself or someone else that you kept for some reason or a room you decorated. Maybe a journal or a diary. Photos you took. It could maybe be an entire person if you're a parent or grandparent (I'm not, so I couldn't say). I found some clues this summer in this piece I wrote way back in 2012 called: What the hell is my story? My point is that without even realizing it we leave ourselves all sorts of clues for finding our way back to our true selves when we get lost. Keep listening for words that sing. And feelings that resonate. Activities and experiences that bring joy from within you regardless of what anyone else thinks or does. As we grow older there are trends and patterns to notice, too. What is it about this creation that still feels like you? How have you changed? Have you let go of something that you want to pick up again? What are you holding now that's getting in your way– something you need to let go of? What and who protected you from the nonsense that the human world threw your way back then? Who and what might help protect you from the nonsense of the world now and the nonsense you throw at yourself when you're lost, off your path, and contributing to making yourself forget who you so naturally are?
• Find someone from the community or neighborhood who feels like this now. Spend time with them in person. Listen for clues.
• Find someone younger than you who you love or like. Spend time with them in person. Listen for clues.
• Walk or sit or swim in nature somewhere. Somewhere you love or notice a moment you love. Listen for clues.
• Walk down a city street. Somewhere you love or notice a moment you love. Listen for clues.
• Travel somewhere you've never been. Could be far away or simply a street you've never driven down or a path through the woods or neighborhood that you've never walked. Notice what you love. Watch for clues.
• Redo something in your physical space. Go to a thrift store and find an entire outfit that you love today but wouldn't have loved a year or two ago. Or redecorate a room. Or add or change a patio or garden. Landscape. Remodel. Tend a patch of plants you forage from. Volunteer to help improve a local school or community center or park or library or community garden or senior center. Change the space into something you love now. Watch for clues about what you– today– love and believe. Allow yourself to feel sad about what you let go, cover up, and change. Grieve the loss of something easier to let go of before you grieve something or someone who is far harder to say goodbye to.

The closer you get to the land of Belonging, the more clues you'll begin to see. Then, the more actions you'll want to take. Don't rush it. Eventually, a being or place will emerge whose entire presence sings for you. This might be a new human friend or friends. A new backyard bird friend. A new tree or whole forest friend. A new dog or cat friend. A plot of land that feels like a friend. A beach. A new home. A new coffee shop started by people you adore.

Eventually, this being whose entire presence sings for you will be a new you. And you'll find yourself back in the land of belonging.

The end. Unless...

A quick digression for my fellow deep divers...

If you're a "loves deep reflection, context, history, and details" person, like me, then you may also care about and actually need to understand how you stepped off your path in the first place. I did. Still do. I love learning about how I got to a place once I'm there, and I love not knowing how to get there as I go. I've also believed in/resonated with the power of these words since I read them in a T.S. Eliot poem when I was, maybe, 19: "In my beginning is my end." and "In my end is my beginning." So, when we take the time to look back to see how we stepped off our path to begin with, we find at least one additional clue about how to step back on again. Become selves we love again. We step back on in a somewhat familiar way to how we stepped off.

If you'd like to better understand how you stepped off your path– loving who you are and what you're doing– then reading this whole piece might help: Honing the skill of stepping off your path. Understanding how you end up off your path– again and again– can be really useful if you care about this. If not, no worries. All in good time. (Crap, ok, I like that one old platitude. My exception that proves the rule.) By deep diving this past month, I learned that I step off my own path for three reasons that I can see today:

• Following intuition, then deepening curiosity and wonder. Sometimes I step off my path for the pure joy of wandering. It's our nature to wander and be curious and move toward what fills us with wonder. I followed my intuition to step away from being a writer and to deepen herbalist skills for a few years. I eventually followed my own– and the forest and land's– intuition back to being a writer again.
• With exhaustion, isolation, guilt, and anger. Sometimes I find myself off my path when I allow guilt and "I should" or staying silent or not rocking the boat and ignoring what I need and often overwork-without-equal-play-time to take over and run my life. Sometimes I imagine I can endlessly give emotional support without receiving a lot of emotional support in return. It's then that I end up exhausted, isolated, feeling guilty, and, eventually really angry. Blame is part of this journey. Moving beyond blame together is, too. It's our nature to want to move beyond blame, disconnection, and isolation. This is the hardest, bumpiest way off the path for me and the hardest, bumpiest way back on. Fighting with myself happens as I step off the path and fighting with myself and others happens as I step back on. It seems like it'd be so lovely if I could somehow just eliminate this way off the path for myself. Sadly, I'm clearly not in charge of the universe. Apparently, sometimes I need bumpy.
• With intention, companionship, and occasional hard conversations and sadness. There's a whole lot of learning to be had on the other side of blame and disconnection. Sometimes I step off my path to widen the path. To co-create a new or expanding family or friend or community path. Or even a whole region or whole country path. (Have you seen the funny resistance frogs and menagerie of creatures in Portland, Oregon yet? I suspect they're/we're on a new whole-country path. Talk about a bright and shining, singing, CLUE.) Another way to view this is that sometimes I end up realizing that I'm not lost, actually, but what I've been doing is stepping into a larger path that was there all along: just waiting for me to be ready for it. There are collective paths. Collective selves. Mutual aid and intentional-growth-for-all paths. Entirely new to us ways, and also very old ways, of experiencing and being in the world. Personally, I love the idea that a wider, weirder, warmer path, and self, is always waiting for us. Waiting, in the tall grass, to be discovered by us when we're ready. Like playing hide and seek or tag with neighborhood kids at sunset in summer. We know that feeling. We are that feeling. Even when we hide from it because it means huge and scary change. Some things resonate with everyone.