Being lost has its benefits.
You’re forced to pay close attention to whats around you.
You’re made to engage with unknown objects and gaze through the fog of fear.
Nature looks you in the eye and screams, “Do something! Quick!”
You can only survive by answering that call.
The fear will make you desperate, and you may take directions from others more lost than you are. The longer you follow such directions, the more distant your goal will become. You will forget where you started, and where you were headed.
Getting found requires remembering how you got to where you are–recalling the point at which you entered the unknown.
Was it negligence or arrogance that brought you there, or bravery?
For what reason are you lost?
These are the questions that make the lost want to clutch their heads and collapse to the ground, or else accept a sort of formless existence, without aim or intention, and therefore no standard by which they can be judged as lost.
Of course, being lost is not a general condition: almost always, parts of our lives are in decent working condition, whilst others have been severely neglected and thus we have drifted off course.
When we have the horrible feeling of being pulled apart by internal contradictions, we know at least part of us is not in proper orientation with the rest. Proper orientation is at once determined by the demands of the Universe, the body we exist in, and our conscious mind’s desires. A lack of awareness of these determinants destroys our ability to navigate the world.
And who are the great philosophers but cartographers of that which is common to all maps?
Who are the specters of history but fellow travelers of the unknown, their missteps and triumphs kept alive through words?
If you are lost, consider consulting the maps of those who came before.