I was almost a teenager.
I was an Eagle Scout.
I grew up outside taking care of myself.
I liked being alone.
My parents took my brother and I out to a cool park in eastern Oklahoma that had a history of being remote enough and hard enough to get around in, that in a previous century, it had been a favoite hidding place for those who choose to live outside the law. For a young kid, it was almost like traveling back in time. The romance was palpable.
I love to explore. Just wander around and see what can be seen. Find new stuff.
There’s always a cool place calling my name just beyond the next boulder. Maybe I will find the treasure left in the “hidding place of the bad guys”. I was young, tough and energetic. Boulder after big boulder I climbed and explored losing all sense of time. It was good. It was satisfying.
Until I stopped for a moment of self awareness. I had been working hard, keeping focused on the next bit of climbing and trying not to fall off or slide down beautiful big rocks of granite that like sandpaper would have ripped my clothes and skin because of a missed step or a momentary lack of concentration.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, in a moment of self-awareness, I realized I had no idea where I was. How far was I from our familar pickup camper? Where was the safety of my mom and dad, even the familar face of my younger and sometimes annoying brother?
So I started running. The wrong way it turned out.
Somehow a dirt road was suddenly beneath my feet and I was mindlessly running down a path that went somewhere I didn’t know.
Miserable.
Lost.
Panic in my chest.
Without a way, but on the way.
A way I had mindlessly chosen because it was just there. It was obvious that others had been there before me. The ruts were well defined.
Maybe I would still be running if I had not run upon a big, beautiful white-tailed buck deer with a trophy set of horns. The biggest I have ever seen. He was just off the road and when I got to within 20 feet of him, he looked up and saw me, and I him. Our eyes made contact for just a moment and then he crashed into the safety of the woods startling me to take another moment of self-awareness.
I then “knew” I was lost. I then remembered all of the things I had learned in my young life about being in the woods and what to do when lost. I checked the position of the sun and with a vague sense of shame headed back in the direction I had come.
Thirty minutes later I climbed back over a big beautful sandpaper granite boulder to find my parents chatting and enjoying the sun, scenary and each other. Running up to them, I blurted out, “Man, am I glad to see you guys!”
They were sort of mystifyed and amused by my enthusiasm and said, “Michael, you’ve been gone for only about 30 minutes, what’s going on with you?” In my innocence I told them my adventure of being lost and the accompanying panic and then being shocked back to sense by a great big buck.
I was really glad to be back in a familiar and safe place, even though the people that I cared about and who also cared for me didn’t even know I was lost.
Of course I didn’t (couldn’t and wouldn’t) tell my brother.
*****
Nowadays, in occassional moments of self-awaremess, I find myself lost. And I panic. And I run down a path that goes somewhere, I don’t know.
Many times, because I lose focus or concentration, I get hurt. Or worse, I get those around me riled up over something neither they nor I have control over.
But more and more often when I am lost, I stop. I remember about all of things I am supposed to do to find my direction again. I notice where the light is coming from and return pretty quickly to a place of safety and peace.
This time around I know that I know that somebody cares.
