A Report On My Progress - or - I Have No Idea What I Am Doing!
What do you do when you are not sure where you are going?
When I am in the wilderness I usually have a plan, a trail that I am hiking, a place that I am trying to get to. This makes the days focused. I get up, I eat, I take care of my gear, and then I get to wherever it is that I am planning on going. I love the simplistic focus in the routine. I take time to be still, to appreciate the wonder of the surroundings, but these are stopping points on the way. But what about those moments when there is not a plan? Or when the plan is so big, so vague and out of immediate reach, that the next step does not feel like it has any significance? What do you do when you are not sure where you are going?
I was in school for a very long time. I worked through public education at the requisite pace, went right to college, and four years later found myself immersed in my graduate studies at seminary. I then took about 18 months off after graduating and then enrolled in a doctoral program. More than a decade later, after I did the final, finishing touches on my dissertation and sent it to the school library to collect dust and be glanced once every seven years, I found myself wandering around my house early in the morning. I had been focused, directed, heading towards a goal for some time and now found myself wondering what to do next. There were no more classes, no more exams, and no more chapters to write. I was on the other side and did not know where to go. What do you do when you are not sure where you are going.
A little more than a year ago I announced to the congregation that I was serving that I was leaving to start a new chapter in my life. I shared about a thirst that I had to be in the wilderness and to lead people in the wilderness. My final Sunday was in the end of February, I had a month to rearrange my home, and then I was on a NOLS course of the next two months. And then the summer started, and I was running from trip to trip without many moments to stop and reflect until the end of August. I had an incredible summer leading trips, going on adventures, and having amazing experiences. I was focused on the current trip and the next trip and the one after that. I had direction. Now, as summer folds into fall, I still have some trips scheduled, but they are sparse and few, and I am not sure where I am going. The next summer will come and there are already opportunities for wonderful journeys in the works, but right now I find myself wondering where it is that I am going, and I feel lost.
The late author William Bridges writes in his book, Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes that there is an ending and a beginning, but an, “important empty or fallow time in between.” This is where it feels like I am - in between. It is what Bridges describes as a “neutral zone” where I am no longer where I once was (a pastor of a church), but not where I am headed - which is yet to be determined. I am in between and not sure what to do or where I am going. This is such a different experience for me because when I am hiking I know where I am going and know that I will get there eventually and the time in between if full and rich. I am not hiking, but trying to get through the reality of life, and am not sure where I am going. I feel lost.
I share this because I know that many of us are in transition in one way or another. I know that many are looking for a sense of where they are going and still feel lost as jobs change, or relationships, or location of living, or other major life moments happen. And maybe it helps to know that you are not the only one to feel scared to be in an in between place and to feel lost. If you ask me what is one of my biggest fears in the wilderness, it is not the animals or the weather or even the people; it is being lost. Yes, I feel lost and yes, I am scared.
I find myself in a place where I have had an amazing summer and am looking forward to another amazing summer but in between I don’t know where I am going and I feel lost and it is scary. This is a different wilderness for me; one that I do not feel qualified or equipped to traverse. This is where I am.
Yesterday I heard on the wonderful podcast Poetry Unbound a work by David Wagoner. In this time of transition, I have been leaning into poetry more and more – especially Mary Oliver’s “When I am Among the Trees.” I have never heard of Wagoner, I am not especially versed in poetry, but this poem spoke to me. It is a poem that not only speaks to where it feels like I am, but the hope that I aspire to embrace in this time of feeling lost. I offer this poem not as words of hope, but instead to be a kind of direction, a map of sorts to help get through the moment. Maybe it will help me. Maybe it will help you.
Lost
By David Wagoner
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Finally, if you are feeling even a little bit like I am; in a place of being lost and not knowing where you are going, let me know. I cannot guide you out but I can promise to be lost with you. We can be lost together.