The Subtle Art of Being Lost

“All cannot be lost when there is 

still so much being found.”

For most of my life, I couldn’t help but feel lost and out of place. I perpetually looked for places where I’d finally belong. And whenever I came close to it, things would sleep through my fingers, and I’d have to start over. 

This terrifying reality often got me stuck in time. Either in the past or in the future, and for this reason, I never managed to anchor myself to the present. Because not only was I feeling lost, but I was also terrified of losing what the non-so-lost version of myself had built. This whole thing resulted in holding onto situations so tightly that I wouldn't let go, even if my fingers were bleeding from it.

You might think that I am exaggerating but trust me, I’ve never been very good at letting go; my mom’s basement is the living proof of it. How many old shoe boxes holding the scraps of what has been do I own? Three? Four? All of which contain tiny envelopes — carefully cataloged by years, of course — carrying tiny memories such as cinema or concert tickets, photos, and birthday cards… Holding onto the past often soothed the present’s painful reality and the fear of what would become of it in the future. 

Needless to say, this coping mechanism wasn’t very helpful in the long run. 

As if understanding who I was, who I wanted to be and where I fitted, wasn't enough work, I spent the longest time burdening myself with imaginary deadlines for when I should do or know something. Learn how to drive, get my own apartment, or know what I wanted to do with my life. I also thought that there were some non-negotiables about who I was and what I liked and that I should know them by now. My favourite film, colour, or favourite dish, etc.

But just like I’ve applied a constructionist lens to most of my academic essays, I’ve decided to view life with the same approach. Constructivism is based on the idea that people actively construct or make their own knowledge, and that reality is determined by your experiences as a learner. This means that learners use their previous knowledge as a foundation and build on it with new things that they learn.

In other words, we’re in constant evolution, and the meaning we give to our lives shouldn't be fixed.  Favorite colours change, we fall in and out of love, we know ourselves, and then we don’t, our needs change and so do our desires. Feeling lost gives room for new versions of us to grow and perhaps, it isn’t such a bad thing. 

There is something deeply reassuring in knowing that I am a collage of all the versions of myself that have ever existed. Because they were never lost. And as long as I have them, I’ve got myself. 

It took me a couple of years to understand the subtle art of being lost. It also took me a while to understand that being lost and feeling lost are sensibly different.

In summary; lost is a lovely place to yourself.