What We Lose When We Can't Get Lost

There are a couple of inventions that have made my lived experience less pleasant, and I'm not talking about smartphones or AI.

The first is the telephone answering machine. Prior to the answering machine, if you wanted to talk to me, you had to keep calling until I answered. The moment I got my first answering machine, people started asking, "Why didn't you return my call?" Suddenly, the onus of making contact could be placed on me by anyone at anytime, even by people I had no desire to speak with. The answering machine is long gone, but its legacy -- email, text messages, direct messages -- just put the whole thing on steroids. Now, I even receive email from advertisers that scold, "I've written to you several times about this"

I don't want to be rude, but the modern world has become one big answering machine of flashing lights telling me that someone, everyone, is attempting to place the obligation of communication on me. Well, I left you a message . . .

The second invention is GPS. I know, it's an amazing thing to not get lost in the world. As long as we have service, it's almost impossible to get lost, even in strange or foreign places. 

People my age know what it's like to be lost, to have to rely on your wits and the kindness of strangers to get back on track. Some of my favorite travel memories involve times when I didn't know where I was. I was once lost in Paris, having gone out on a ramble, only to find that I'd taken too many turns to recall the way back to my hotel. I stopped at a street cafe to collect myself over a cup of coffee. I looked up to find a most magnificent cathedral across the way. It turned out it was Notre Dame. I felt almost as if I'd discovered this famed tourist attraction because I'd not sought it, I'd not planned for it, but rather came across it in my travels.

Another time, while lost, I found myself in light industrial area. I stepped into an open garage door to find it was an artist's studio. Specifically, he was blowing glass, a process I'd never seen so close-up. He sent me on my way with a bespoke piece of glass that he blew for me on the spot.

In her book Wanderlust, Rebecca Solnit writes, "Exploring the world is one of the best ways of exploring the mind."

And implied in the act of exploration, at least for me, is this idea of not really knowing where you are or where you are going. Exploring the world or the mind suggests that we are fully alert, using all of our senses, taking in the strangeness and foreignness as an outsider, an innocent, curious, wondering.

Solnit refers to "the mind at three miles per hour," a pace of body and thought that allows for exploration rather than mere sightseeing.

I share Solnit's fondness for long walks. When I travel as Teacher Tom, I'm generally hired for a specific purpose, but there are always hours during which I'm free to roam. I rarely consult the "What's Happening" or "Must See" listings, and instead simply wander. In this way, I got to watch dog sled races through the streets of Fairbanks, Alaska. I once found myself in Sydney's magnificent botanical gardens. I've re-discovered one of my childhood homes in the suburbs of Athens, Greece. 

I've also found myself walking along motorways without sidewalks, trapped in a maze of dead ends, and chased by aggressive (seeming) off-leash dogs. That's the other side of exploring, of course. It's not all Notre Dame.

Just as the answering machine became its own kind of slippery slope, the advent of GPS has virtually eliminated the necessity of surrendering to being lost, and reduced the opportunity to experience the unexpected. We get from point A to point B as efficiently as possible. We plan our itineraries, take our photos, then get back on track. I recently spoke with a 17-year-old who told me of his panic over finding himself in a rural part of Oregon where there was "no connectivity." That was my entire life until relatively recently, but today connectivity is part of our baseline reality. Being lost today isn't a normal aspect of freedom, but rather an emergency.

And I miss it.

I still go out on those long walks. And yes, I do carry my phone. I turn it off because I crave being "out of touch" for a few hours, but it's impossible to forget that should I "get lost" I can be immediately found, complete with step by step directions to food, water, and transportation. No need to stick my head into an artist's studio. No way to find myself amidst huskies pulling sleds. No exploration of either the world or my mind.

The mind at three miles per hour, however, seems like the perfect thing. It seems like how we are meant to think, while moving, outdoors, communing with unfamiliarity, exploring, learning about the world and ourselves.

Today's children may well go their entire lives without the experience of being lost. They may never know what it means to temporarily disappear from the known world. And that, I think, is a loss.

******

Books, like Sand Talk, have a way of transforming us unlike any other media out there. Be it fiction or non-fiction, a books has the power to fully immerse us into a world in ways that makes us come out the other side a changed -- and better -- person. I've put together this list of 16 books that have done that for me. They are intentionally not early childhood books, although each one has, in one way or another, profoundly transformed my work with young children. Maybe you'll find a few new ones here that will do the same for you. To download the list, click here.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!