How remarkable it is,
to get lost,
with no way to find yourself but
to ask for directions,
or stumble across the answer yourself.
During the first of two trips, I landed in Amsterdam at 06:30 local time, having been in a plane for 10 hours and gotten 15 minutes of sleep. I proceeded to head into the city, and promptly got lost.
It was wonderful. Overseas my phone is only good for taking notes, and though I had a map, half the time I couldn’t find the street signs to know where I was. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. I just walked around and explored.
How often do we do that? Just wander, be lost, and really look at the world around us. We’re too busy rushing about to really see, much less enjoy the miracle that is our lives.
I found small parks and delightful canals. I stumbled across a zoo while walking down a shaded path. I experienced a city that normally thrummed with life, still sleeping as I first arrived. Then I saw it wake up, and I composed the poem at the top of this post as I sipped a beer and watched its people live.
True, there’s an advantage to being in Amsterdam. It’s a beautiful city. But how often do we explore, or even just look around us at the miracle that is our existences?
We’re all lost most of the time. Sometimes it’s nice to enjoy it.