Lost at 49

49. One year under the half-century mark. I half-smile, thinking “you would think I’d have it all figured out by now.”

It’s 6:34am on a Wednesday. Through the blinds in our guest room / make-shift office window, the outlined trees and furniture in the backyard are barely visible, as the morning light is just starting to make its entrance. I sip my coffee, typing on my laptop, determined to write what’s become an annual memoir on this personal milestone, before my first meeting starts at 7:30. I hear the buzz of Reese’s electric toothbrush from the hallway bathroom; I just woke him up before coming in here, so he could get ready for hybrid classes this week. Melissa and Tristan are bustling downstairs in the kitchen, Melissa already making me a ‘birthday’ breakfast. She was cutting up onions and peppers when I made my cup of coffee, and I was excited to see she broke out a package of breakfast sausages from the fridge. They all gave me their birthday wishes, before I came up here to settle in. I know I’ve said it before, and I will continue to do so – I am blessed, and thankful to the nth degree for her and for these boys.

It’s been a hell of a year. I think that if anyone was writing about this past year, it could start with those same words. Followed perhaps by a sigh, and a small shake of the head.

Though in all honesty – and Melis and I have talked about this – personally, we’d take 2020 over 2019 any day of the week. 2019 was a tough year of transformation for us, but 2020 has been quiet, at least inside the confines or our own home. Just like everyone else, we’ve been home this year more than any other. And while I miss my family, especially not having been able to see my parents, the quiet has been good for us. Luckily, our loved ones have so far been safe from Covid (knock on wood), so for Melis and I, we needed 2020 to recover from 2019.

By nature, the quiet means less distractions. This year we found ourselves with less of the obligatory outings or convenient trips that are attended just to fill the hours, and we were left with the essential. We were forced by circumstance to spend more time with ourselves, and spend what limited social currency we have only on those that we prioritized to keep physically in front of us. It took a while to realize it, but it was a year of ‘boiling down’ – of letting all the superfluous evaporate away, only to leave the essentials of who we are.

It took a while to realize it, because this was not a choice. No one chose to be here. The scenario was put upon us. So the immediate reaction was to the scenario, to Covid. The primary reactions was, for me, a fear of the unknown, and concern for the safety of our loved ones. What happened next was distillation, and opportunity.

Lost

It reminds me of a recent conversation I had with a good friend of mine, about being lost.

We discussed how being lost can be a good thing, and how it should be expected. In this life-long journey of ours, isn’t it natural, even expected, to lose one's way every once in a while? In fact, isn’t getting lost an essential part of the journey?

We both quickly agreed that the opportunities of being lost are bountiful – to discover new places, new ideas, new engagements, outside of the path we were so used to. All of them - opportunities.

But here’s the thing. When you’re lost, most likely, you don’t see or feel any of that, because you feel … lost.

Being lost comes with fear of unfamiliar surroundings, and the absence of familiar markers. The absence of familiar voices. Or perhaps, even more disturbing, there’s nothing around to see at all. When you’re lost, whether physically, emotionally, spiritually, or otherwise, the only thing you feel is, well … lost.

.. and Found

So the opportunities of discovering something new – it takes a while. It takes time to realize that there are opportunities, if you realize them at all. More likely, there is no cognitive realization, The opportunities for something new, or at least something different - they just happen. You find a new place to have coffee, or a different person to confide in, or some extra time to think about what’s important. We find a new job, or a new project. Instead of going out on the weekends, we read a book, maybe learn a new instrument. We naturally call on those that we cannot lose touch with, for one reason or another.

For me, that was this year. Amid the feeling of being lost, unknowingly, opportunities happened. Not by explicit choice, but by circumstance. I found my way to new conversations, deep ones with good friends, and even deeper ones with family. I picked up the guitar. Tonight, at the courtesy of my parents' birthday gift, I will once again pick up a violin.

And perhaps, at the courtesy of these hours alone with my computer, I pick up a couple of perspectives.

First, a reminder that being lost has always been part of the journey – it needs to be. It has been for me a few times this year, and it will happen again. The best I can do is try and recognize it sooner, and maybe not be so anxious when it happens. Because if you don’t get lost, how else do you discover something new?

Second, and perhaps more importantly, being lost does not mean being alone. I have been blessed and will always be thankful for family and friends that are the type of people to get lost with you, and have a conversation along the way. And I hope to do the same for them ... for you. One might argue that most of the time, that's what we're doing - just being lost together, exploring, helping each other find a steadfast path. Not so bad when you think about it that way.

Well, enough drivel from me. :)

If you're still reading this, thanks for humoring me. You sharing in my thoughts like this - that's the best birthday gift you can give me.

Tomorrow is a holiday celebrating thankfulness, and apart from wishing you a happy and safe Thanksgiving, I also thank you - for your friendship, thoughts, and for this gift of your time.

See you at 50.