Lost

My mother once taught me that being lost isn't always a bad thing. Actually, if I were to break it down just a little more precisely, this is something that my mother said and I chose to learn from her. When she said "being lost isn't always a bad thing," we were lost. She was doing something that most of us do in situations like that: we narrate a predicament so that it takes the edge off being confused, worried, angry, sad or overjoyed. Talking to yourself gives perspective in moments when it is needed. Like the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy suggests on the cover: Don't Panic.
Still, it turns out to be a pretty valuable piece of wisdom. When applied to those moments when you realize that all roads eventually lead to Rome, and you can probably find your way home from there. With the proper travel documents. When you are lost, there are all kinds of sights to see that are, as my mother likes to say, "off the beaten path." This was coming from someone who also gave me a profound appreciation for the beaten path. Routine and ruts are powerful things and should be appreciated and mined for all their intrinsic value. Knowing the way from place to place means you don't miss those important connections with other people on their way to other places. And sometimes, when that incredibly dependable part of you fails and that left turn at Albuquerque doesn't take you to Pismo Beach, you have to let yourself be lost. Embrace that moment. Knuckles white on the steering wheel, peering out into the distance for that next familiar sign, embrace the moment.
On the other side of that nugget was the assertion that things were always found in the last place that you looked for them. It was meant as comfort, but it always felt a little like someone being oh-so-clever for the purpose of making themselves just a little superior. That's what parents do. Comfort while maintaining just the slightest edge of superiority.
These were the homilies I heard in my mind the other day as I raced about my home in the pre-dawn hours searching for my keys. I make such a profound habit of leaving my wallet and keys in the same spot on my dresser each and every day that even when I travel I tray and approximate that same placement in any new environment I might find myself. Finding my keys should be the least of my worries. Lost isn't always a bad thing. They turned out to be sitting in the last place where I looked. I felt my patience being tested and realized that it was all just an exercise that I had been prepared for years before. Thanks, Mom.