“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.”
― Rebecca Solnit,
Rusty barbed wire lines these fields —
My favorite thing to do when I write is to throw a Spotify playlist onto shuffle and see what surfaces. My words are often inspired by music, and anyone who writes to music understands the power and passion that a serendipitous set of lyrics or chords can invoke.
Gravel dust behind the wheels – – Drifting like my mind into the rear view
Much of my day-job involves three to six-hour road trips–all completely music-filled. I keep my phone handy so I can speak my story ideas into the recorder as the song plays. When I hear the music, my mind goes to photographs I’ve taken, cherished memories, and people I love. Florida-Georgia Line showed up first this morning–dirt roads, sunsets, and feeling a little lost.
When I get home, I write the story and file it away until I need it for another day. For what? I never know. Most of those song-inspired stories never get shared because they feel too personal and not relevant to anyone but me. Who would want to read that crap anyway?
For anyone who has thought that I have my sh*t together, thanks for the vote of confidence, but it is so far from the truth. I’m still learning, growing, and trying to beat down this inner notion that I have to be perfect. I’ll never be perfect, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t stop me from trying.
I’ve been blogging in this space for 3 years and 2 days. My intent was to celebrate imperfections and make you laugh. I’m not sure what the mission is any more – I’m not that funny, and I have yet to kick the need to be perfect. I’m still waking from that summer slumber I mentioned a few weeks ago and stretching like a lazy cat leaning back into the groove of writing. I can’t find the trailhead entrance, and keep getting turned around at the switchbacks.
And there it is. My confession – an owning up that I am a little lost these days. But, not in a bad way. These between spaces are my comfort zones, and I’m at peace with being lost. Ever notice that you find the most amazing things while you’re lost?
In the darkness on the edge of town
A little lost, a little found
Waiting on a call from an angel
That guy in the windshield looking back looks just like me
But there’s a crack in the reflection
Hope she’s moving in the right direction
Hint: Read this again while listening to the song below. See if you find yourself inside this lost and found space, too. Don’t worry – it’s not as scary as it seems. xo