Nothing Left To Lose

 

Yesterday I lost the cat. So it seems that not only can I lose my bearings, my mind, and my car – often at the same time – I can also lose animals. In my own house. Not to mention, it’s not my cat and it’s a small house. A condo. Small. Really small.  I would’ve lost my watch too, but I found it when I was looking in the freezer for my sunglasses. I would appreciate it if you kept this under your hat, as it’s not the kind of information that endears one to many. But in my defence, this cat makes Houdini look like an amateur.   So 4½ hours later, after calling all respective institutions as to what to do when you lose a cat, waiting for a return phone call from the respective owners telling them I had lost the cat, completing all necessary tasks from the respective institutions as to what to do when you lose a cat – along with walking around the neighbourhood for an hour shaking respective treat bag – I was on the phone soliciting sympathy, when I turned around and there he  was…calming watching me from the top of the fireplace mantle wondering what all the fuss was about. To this day, I have no idea whether The Cat had been in the house the whole time or had sneaked in the open front door, as per instructions from respective institutions when losing a cat.    We have spoken at length in previous posts about my unsurpassable spacial intelligence, i.e. getting lost or losing things – like my car. Being super organized, I can find a paper clip in under 3 seconds, but trying to find the Starbucks I passed a half hour ago in a new city…well, that’s a different story. By the way, when I ask for directions, please don’t use words like “east”.    I think most of us only have about eleven genuinely interesting moments in our life; the rest is filler. Unfortunately, my interesting moments may have been the times I have gotten lost. Being lost can have it’s benefits, in that I have found find myself in places I never knew were there, in situations I never could have imagined, and with people I would not otherwise have met.  I mean I could write a field guide to getting lost, but I would probably lose the manuscript.    When I tell others of my inbred misfortune, they shake their heads woefully, as a non-existent sense of direction is as incomprehensible to them as reading a map is to me – no less comforting and much more frightening.Kafka, the great patron of self-criticism, captured this pathology perfectly: “There’s only one thing certain. That is one’s own inadequacy.”Modify your remarks accordingly. Nevertheless, these episodes make for a ready story when dinner conversation lags. Besides, nobody wants to hear – Yes, everything went according to plan. Where‘s the story in that?    The question then, is how to get lost. Growth in life happens on the edge, rather than in security. Cause you can’t get far if you observe all the rules. This “not knowing” is what drives life. It’s curiosity that makes you get up every morning, driving you forward, wondering what’s next. And if you don’t know where you’re going, anywhere seems like an intriguing option.   What then, is the difference between not finding your way and losing yourself?  Somewhere in between lies discovery; of places, ideas, and the store with that great pair of shoes you saw yesterday.    Galway, Ireland …or a cat pillow,   Pillows found while getting lost in Bridgetown, Hilo, and Kotor, Montenegro.   St John’s, Newfoundland  or a cat mural.