becoming un-lost

Sometimes, I feel lost in the blogging world.

There are so many wife-and-mommy blogs, which are great things, because wives and mommies should encourage one another, but I’m not one of them. And then there are cooking blogs. And crafting blogs. And critiquing pop-culture blogs. A lot of people my age set goals for themselves and blog about pursuing them. Or travel the world and post photos of those travels.

I’m not a photographer. Nor do I cook or craft or partake of pop-culture habitually. I’m not particularly goal-oriented. At least, the goal toward which I’m working — the master’s thesis — isn’t even exciting to me; I don’t want to inflict it on you.

I’m not adventurous – not so that you’d notice it. For me, an adventure happens when I step off the path I walk every day to follow the worn trail the beavers made. It happens when I try a new flavor of tea. It happens, all inside my head, when someone walks in and I strike up a friendship with the story I imagine about them. It happens when I send a writing sample to someone I’ve never seen and wait for their response.

For me, waiting can be an adventure. In any case, it’s the adventure I’m living right now.

Maybe waiting is your adventure right now, too. Maybe you feel daunted by the doings of everyone else. Maybe you grow tired, as I do, of giving the same answer to the same questions of what you’ve been up to: you twenty-something with all the world open to you, and all the world seeming to say, sometimes, that you aren’t doing enough, that you’re spinning your wheels, wasting your time, missing out on life.

Life, dear waiting one, can be, should be, quiet sometimes. Life sometimes takes you around the pond, instead of around the world, just so that you can notice how a mushroom grew absolutely in the shape of a scallop shell. Life may be colorful with buckets-full of zinnias just as much as with the paintings in the Louvre.

Sometimes, becoming un-lost is as simple as looking around and seeing where you are, instead of where everyone else is.

So here I am, looking.

2 thoughts on “becoming un-lost

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