AltTransBikes
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A few years back author Rebecca Solnit published a lovely little book titled: A Field Guide to Getting Lost.
The writing is personal with memoirs but also contains distinct and various stories from episodes in history. One notable reading is that of Spanish explorer Cabeza de Vaca, after being shipwrecked by a storm in 1528, his journey overland from the coast of Texas to California and then to Mexico City took eight years to complete. Remarkable for this was in the 16th century. He found himself very lost.....or lost himself very found. In either case, his life was much changed and never to be the same thereafter.
Tales and stories aside, the thread running through the book is about valuing the unstructured, the unquantifiable, the unknown, and the wandering that brings one to these necessities.
The art of being lost is that through this vulnerability, you are no longer stopped by what you know. One becomes open and quick with the world.
One enduring image the author conjures is that of a long-distance runner.... accumulating moments when neither foot is on the ground, “tiny fragments of levitation,” and argues by analogy that in relinquishing certainty we approach, if only fleetingly, the divine.
I've been rereading it recently, some excerpts:
“The art is not one of forgetting but letting go. And when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss.”
“Explorers ‘were always lost, because they’d never been to these places before. They never expected to know exactly where they were. Yet, at the same time, many of them knew their instruments and understood their trajectories within a reasonable degree of accuracy. In my opinion, their most important skill was simply a sense of optimism about surviving and finding their way.”
“When someone doesn't show up, the people who wait sometimes tell stories about what might have happened and come to half believe the desertion, the abduction, the accident. Worry is a way to pretend that you have knowledge or control over what you don't--and it surprises me, even in myself, how much we prefer ugly scenarios to the pure unknown. Perhaps fantasy is what you fill up maps with rather than saying that they too contain the unknown.”
“Getting lost was not a matter of geography so much as identity, a passionate desire, even an urgent need, to become no one and anyone, to shake off the shackles that remind you who you are, who others think you are.”
“To lose yourself: a voluptuous surrender, lost in your arms, lost to the world, utterly immersed in what is present so that its surroundings fade away. To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.”
“Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”
The writing is personal with memoirs but also contains distinct and various stories from episodes in history. One notable reading is that of Spanish explorer Cabeza de Vaca, after being shipwrecked by a storm in 1528, his journey overland from the coast of Texas to California and then to Mexico City took eight years to complete. Remarkable for this was in the 16th century. He found himself very lost.....or lost himself very found. In either case, his life was much changed and never to be the same thereafter.
Tales and stories aside, the thread running through the book is about valuing the unstructured, the unquantifiable, the unknown, and the wandering that brings one to these necessities.
The art of being lost is that through this vulnerability, you are no longer stopped by what you know. One becomes open and quick with the world.
One enduring image the author conjures is that of a long-distance runner.... accumulating moments when neither foot is on the ground, “tiny fragments of levitation,” and argues by analogy that in relinquishing certainty we approach, if only fleetingly, the divine.
I've been rereading it recently, some excerpts:
“The art is not one of forgetting but letting go. And when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss.”
“Explorers ‘were always lost, because they’d never been to these places before. They never expected to know exactly where they were. Yet, at the same time, many of them knew their instruments and understood their trajectories within a reasonable degree of accuracy. In my opinion, their most important skill was simply a sense of optimism about surviving and finding their way.”
“When someone doesn't show up, the people who wait sometimes tell stories about what might have happened and come to half believe the desertion, the abduction, the accident. Worry is a way to pretend that you have knowledge or control over what you don't--and it surprises me, even in myself, how much we prefer ugly scenarios to the pure unknown. Perhaps fantasy is what you fill up maps with rather than saying that they too contain the unknown.”
“Getting lost was not a matter of geography so much as identity, a passionate desire, even an urgent need, to become no one and anyone, to shake off the shackles that remind you who you are, who others think you are.”
“To lose yourself: a voluptuous surrender, lost in your arms, lost to the world, utterly immersed in what is present so that its surroundings fade away. To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.”
“Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”