Mystery From The Edge Of Consciousness - Xan

Threads from a variety of sources occasionally fall happily together in one’s mind, presenting the opportunity to plait them together into a new, sometimes thrilling picture of what is or what may be.

After an extraordinary summer of intertwining literal threads, discovering old images rising from the long-ago, then encountering new information to join with them, I am busily plaiting them together to discover what this fabrication may bring. 

As a budding Elder Generation, the likes of which has yet to be experienced, defined, or described, I would first like to posit the possibility that our experiences with psychedelics make up one of the strong threads in the structure of Who We Are. I acknowledge the possibility that this “We” is actually delimited by my location then and now in the larger San Francisco Bay Area and in the “counter culture” here at the western edge of the world: West Coast California.

The thought that rose up from, say 1969 more or less, was my sense that an evolutionary leap to the capacity of humans to share consciousness could bring about the love of one another and all Life that could wake us up to the Oneness of all things and therefore to the necessity of cooperating with, indeed cherishing, all things, and using our lives, our planet, and our resources for the good of the whole, for the furtherance of Life itself.

When I shared this thought with Lucky (David Goff), he kindly gave me portions of his yet unpublished and quite grand book to read. I will quote from it, after having received his permission, to describe something he knows about the very process of evolution. As you no doubt are aware, Science and Spirit are no longer at opposite ends of a continuum, but are like tendrils, long separated, that are straining toward one another, seemingly yearning to be reunited in our consciousness.

After providing the scientific background of the way holons (defined below) operate, Lucky brings us to the place of describing the human holon and how we seem to be tending toward a merging into a new state best described as “interdependence.” In defining “holon” he cites Arthur Koestler’s work: it is a “whole/part” which both needs individuality and self-definition (vertical movement) and connection (horizontally) to others in order to fit into our environment and thrive. With this combination of tensions, the urge to merge and a desire to be independent, from time to time an individual holon will strike out on its own, rising into a new strata of complexity where it must find its way to maintaining an individual function and to finding a niche in its new environment. Our bodies are made up of holons linked to cooperate with the other parts: e.g., heart, lungs, stomach, bowels, etc.

Drawing from Lucky’s chapter descriptions, he says, “The move toward a psychology of interdependence is … based upon current science, so that it is balanced (reflecting our species social nature), and responds to the very real challenges that confront us as a species. It is a project of consciousness. … [I]t focuses on … the ground of emergence … where social energies reside, energies capable of transforming relationship, communities, and our species’ interactions with Life. By focusing [here] as well as within, the doors to storehouses of human potential are unlocked. The psychology of interdependence affirms relationship, not just as something nice to be part of, but as an essential component in the evolutionary scheme of Life.

So, we see the evolutionary urge of Life working us as well as Life being an essential element of Self.

A couple of weeks ago Lucky and I found ourselves in a gathering of parapsychology elders from around the world, listening to each briefly mention the focus of their current work. Several times mentions of collective consciousness and evolution were made. After 40 years of having no one to share my thoughts of long ago, I suddenly found them reflected from many directions.

The last two threads to this complex tapestry I am weaving are contained, first in a recent experience back in my beloved psychedelic state where, without direct mentions of what we were experiencing, a new ground was established among a few folks who found old grudges being lifted as we grew into a bonded state of higher consciousness. A small but real step toward that collective dream of mine.

Second, I watched an extraordinary movie made by Werner Herzog, released in 2007,Encounters at the End of the World. I highly recommend it for several reasons and for enjoyment on multiple levels. The beauty of the Antarctic life under several feet of solid ice in all its other-worldly landscape is breathtakingly stunning. The conversations with people working there to unravel mysteries of their own nature and mysteries of Nature herself are fascinating. Their discoveries are breathtaking as well. The one that moved me most deeply is the on-camera acknowledgement of the immensity of the discovery one biologist made as he was completing his research project: he took a petri dish of identical single-celled (or possibly simple multi-celled) entities, watching their behavior, when overnight two separate kinds of entities were created within it. Onscreen one watched the cells combining, flocking to a matrix where they were becoming something entirely new! This was Life performing its magic before our eyes; never before witnessed.

So, Life will have its way with us. We will (very quickly) learn to evolve into something that can live in harmony with our environment or we will be discarded as one of Life’s beautiful but failed experiments. Because of the precious consciousness that we have acquired, giving Life the opportunity to see itself and speak to itself, I pray that sufficient numbers of us become capable of that great evolutionary leap into conscious cooperative interdependence that may allow us to continue, on those rare transcendent moments, to experience the Mystery at the Edge of Consciousness.

Old Man with New Dog - By Shepherd Bliss

 

I was not looking for a dog. During my adult life I have never had one. Nonetheless, Yoshi and I found each other. We immediately recognized ourselves as members of the same pack and started hanging out together. Spot was my last dog, over half a century ago—a good dog for a kid. What kind of dog might work for an introverted, sometimes-grumpy old man who does not like barking and overflowing creatures jumping on and licking him?

I am not a “dog person.” I am a “chicken man,” and sometimes the two don’t mix.  One dog killed dozens of my chickens, and another bit me when as a boy. Now I’m a convert to loving and being loved by a dog.

Yoshi and I met at a large rural party near my Sebastopol farm. We saw each other; his human companion soon turned the leash over to me. We roamed together for hours, so full of delight. Yoshi is easy to follow. Meandering with a partner can be fun. He leads me to places, in the inner and outer worlds, where I would not otherwise go.

Yoshi is a shiba inu—a mid-size, cat-like Japanese dog. His regular companion is Kendra, whom I did not know, but we had heard of each other. Yoshi and Kendra tend to be more trusting than I. Right before meeting Yoshi I saw the recent movie “Hachi,” starring Richard Gere, about a similar, larger Japanese dog. That tender story of loyalty opened my heart to Yoshi.

Kendra mentioned going East for a week and inquired if I might care for Yoshi. “Sure,” I responded, the surprising words leaping from my mouth before I could think. Something other than merely myself guided me. On our first evening, I took Yoshi to Sebastopol’s Enmanji Temple for their annual Japanese Obon dance. “May I pet him,” kimono-dressed children politely asked. His double-coated fur is so thick and delightful; your fingers sink pleasurably into it. Yoshi radiates beauty with his fox-like appearance.

Yoshi provides me a dog’s view of the world, as my 2-and-a-half-year-old neighbor River provides me a child’s view. Elders often do what the literature on aging calls “life review.” Some of us then do things that we have never done or not done in a long time—like have a dog and relate to 2-year-olds. So I write about Yoshi from what Zen Buddhists call “beginner’s mind” and what depth psychologists call the “grandfather archetype.”

Yoshi moved in and I made him a bed on his big pillow on the floor. Later that first night he jumped into my bed. I was too sleepy to respond. Though I have never had a four-legged animal in my bed, I decided to let-it-be. Having him curled up at the bottom of the bed created a sense of security.

When I ask friends for advice about our developing relationship, “Shepherd with a dog!” is the surprise I hear in their voices, as they explain things that we might do together. Yoshi knows; he becomes this teacher’s teacher, as the 2-year-old boy has been my teacher. Walking Yoshi, I discover a new world. Dogs connect people; they build community.  Our 20-minute walks can turn into an hour or more of seeing friends and meeting new people. Strangers talk to each other. I take a pen and pad when I walk Yoshi--a muse who stimulates my creative writing and an initiator into other realms.

Yoshi is noble, with a lionish color and quality. I walk proudly at his side. Though only 20 pounds, he radiates dignity. Yoshi has bearing that reaches far back before his six years in this life. Yoshi carries ancient wisdom from centuries before. He teaches me to play more. He likes it when I meet him on all fours, and I feel like a boy again as we romp. Sometimes Yoshi and I just sit and gaze at each other—a transmission—like happens with my two-year-old friend. What better thing for an elder to do than care for younger and smaller beings and learn from them?

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” an old saw asserts. Actually, elderhood can be full of surprising new things, like Yoshi. I have taken chickens to my SSU classes as teaching assistants and Yoshi to campus. “People with pets are better people,” a friend says. Thhis may not be true, but I do feel as if I am becoming a better person through my relationship with Yoshi.

I did not look forward to returning Yoshi, but I committed myself to giving this treasure back. Being willing to detach and let go is an essential Buddhist teaching. Human beings have so much to learn from other animal beings. Yoshi has taught me the importance of adaptability and the impermanence of things.

My dog-sitting time is now over. What then? My brief life will soon be over. What then? Yoshi evoked reflection as he sat at my side—what some native people call side-bys—or lead us through the dense woodland near my farm.

Soon after Yoshi left I sat in a chair at an art reception. My eyes met those of a beautiful, large dog, who raised up on his hind legs and sat on my lap. I was dog-sitting again, literally, much to my delight, as well as the owner’s. She was able to get food and drink, while others came over to admire the dog. I am glad that some stores are dog-friendly, even when it might be a risk.

Happiness For No Good Reason: Change - As Life is Shaping Me - by Xan

It’s not that change in itself is good or bad — it’s simply inevitable. The question is much more whether we welcome it, allow it, don’t resist it. Life will have its way with us, and its way is sometimes pleasurable and sometimes difficult. My experience is more and more that resistance is the key ingredient to ensuring a difficult or unpleasant result.

Two and one-half years now since the death of my beloved husband Michael, it was suggested that I write about how and why that experience catapulted me into a generalized and lasting state of being best described as Happy for No Good Reason. That seems like an oxymoron, since I surely miss him and the abundant love with which he showered me. There were irritations contained in our daily life together that I am happy to no longer live with, as surely any couple of over twenty years duration would acknowledge, were they being really honest. But the Happiness for No Reason I write of is of another character entirely.

In the first hours, days, even months after Michael’s very abrupt passage from his body I was faced with an enormous mountain of quick decisions, physical and psychic work, and logistics galore. He had created a complex network of hopeful and concrete plans for building new communities and an equally complex financial structure to try to actualize them. Just like the mortgage bubble that was due to burst in the weeks following his death — and which was an inextricable part of the financial underpinnings of his efforts — the entire structure came tumbling down. I was left holding the bag.

I knew from the day of his death that I would not be able to keep our house, which also meant the cohousing community that we had created and lived in. I had his lifetime of architectural design work and two storage units full of blueprints, business files and equipment to sift and make disposal decisions about, as well as a home full of “stuff”. Three weeks later I fell off a ladder, breaking my right arm. It was a setup for a long, lost period groveling in overwhelm, pain, and despair.

However, within a very few days I found myself walking to the hills above our home which border Annadel state park, heading for a labyrinth known only to a few folks who walk and tend it periodically. I was being with what is, the immensity of life and death, the sudden end of my marriage, my feelings of betrayal and whatever else I might now know about my partner, his legacy, the summation of his life.

As I began to walk the labyrinth I discovered that I found his life as lived was with deep integrity to his vision, his sense of purpose, his truth, his Self. He did it with flair and with an immense love which he spread over several communities full of people who loved him in return. Had he paid attention to the annoying details of income and business practices which would have made my life with or without him easier, he simply couldn’t have managed to keep those more primary values of his intact. And this integrity, being true to himself, was much of what made me love him so deeply in the first place!

Aha! Total acceptance and forgiveness were the only options. That settled, I simply threw myself headlong into the many-layered tasks of wrapping up a person’s life, a business, a short sale on our home in the worst possible moment in the market, a marriage and an era of my life, all with a broken wing.

My own aging and mortality also came into play now, as I could never have the same relationship to men, sex, community, my body or myself as I had enjoyed previously. My financial options were narrowed and uncertain and, as it turned out, I had a good year ahead of a series of problems with my arm and both hands. My desire had been to return to my life as a fiber artist, requiring nimble fingers — not a certain part of my future.

So, I fell, exhausted, into my newly rented home, less than five months after that fateful morning when Michael escaped all this. And in taking stock I slowly awakened to the ever-present sense of gratitude and appreciation that I’ve been living in ever since. My morning prayers are filled with acknowledgement of the incredible gift of this intricately interconnected, fabulously exquisite Life that moves within me and all around me in every place my eyes come to rest. I also carry an intense gratitude to the communities of people who loved Michael and loved me and who spontaneously created a generous fund to allow me to supplement my social security sufficiently to live in independent simplicity for many years.

And, the Mystery! The awe and wonder of the Unknown! This also sustains me. Surrender I have practiced for 45 years or so through the latihan (spiritual exercise) of Subud and through longer acquaintance with psychedelics. It is no longer a practice; it simply is now part of me. I fear little, I anticipate the further gifts that both the unknown and hardships bring.

If it’s still not clear  “how” I got to this Happy realm (as someone suggested), I’d have to say that the basic elements would be letting go of attachments to outcome; forgiveness of self and others; a willingness to be vulnerable and to surrender to what is which brings, amazingly, much strength; and gratitude for experiencing the ongoing presence of the Mystery.

Being Happy for No Good Reason: this makes it worth growing old.

                                                                                                                      —Alexandra Hart

   

Sourcing The Depths - by Lucky

She said, “ a spring.” I said, ”yes, perhaps that’s it.” We were trying to think of a metaphor, a symbol, for what we could imagine emerging in the elder’s group. There is a sense of something stirring, a latency that is finding a slow, steady kind of expression, or life, through our interactions, just being together. We were guessing about what it is, trying to find a way to relate to it, like it was some kind of alien child that we were discovering in our midst. The truth is that we, the elder’s group, are sailing into uncharted waters.

So far we have not gone very deep with each other. Perhaps we won’t. The unknown hangs over us, like an enveloping shroud. We know we have a chance. Will we go there ourselves? Will lightening strike someone with such a force of necessity, that it sparks all, like kindling into a bond fire of connection, mutual regard, a quivering mass of humans? Or, maybe we will just walk away, knowing another fearful opportunity we missed, or let go of. The tension is growing, as excitement about the possibility, and as anxiety about the risk.

Can we as elders go further? That remains to be seen. The possibility is, in part, why we meet. I know I attend because I want to feel less isolated, I want to be supported, to share my unimaginable losses, to celebrate the part of me, the part of each one, that endures, that finds the humor, creativity, and spirit as things are going, be they ripped away, or given up. I am a social being, I find meaning and good companions make the way more bearable, available, and lively. All of this I know. What I don’t know, and what compels me to show up in the elder’s circle, is the presence of some wisdom, some unknown knowing that comes from Spirit, as grace, from the depths, from souls touching.

This has provoked in me an inchoate longing, for community, depth, surprise, and continuous wonder. I feel its presence. I also know that I have been called here because this is a place where the awesomeness that binds us to each other, to life, to this place we call Earth, is becoming palpable. Is this elder wisdom? I don’t think so. But, I think that the ability to perceive the signs is. Awesomeness doesn’t belong to us anyway. If anything, maybe our years, losses, shaved expectations, and familiarity with death, makes us riper, but the truth is that we belong to it. I am powerless in this circle, I can speak my heart, unveil my on-going vulnerability, surrender into silence, and I can’t make it happen.

I know, that to even have a chance, I need these others. I’ve learned that much. I alone, cannot host, or even call, this being into the moment. I don’t know, if even we can. I just know that we have a chance, and that alone seems like a precious miracle to me. I’ve been wracking my brain, my imagination, my memories, my savvy, for some idea about how to bring this, I don’t know what, to fruition. And all that I know says, “I don’t know.” That is the unsatisfying truth.

What waits seems so beguiling, so enlivening, so deadly with peace and deep relaxation, like a bath, drowning perhaps, in a warm and embracing sea. I am alive with longing for it, and deeply ashamed because I know my own expectations render it less likely. That is why the spring seemed like such a good metaphor to me. Fresh water from the mysterious depths — —  that sounds like the gurgling I hear, and sense, amongst us.

I know I don’t make a spring happen. If I am lucky, and I am Lucky, then I notice, and I do my best to remember where, and how I found it. This has happened enough in my life that I know it can, I even know the signs, but I also know it doesn’t happen because I want it to. The mystery in the depths is inscrutable. There are times when I can appreciate that. I know I tend toward suspecting all human-made ideas, interventions, technologies, ways. We humans seem to constantly miss the big picture, and create things we rapidly turn into their opposites. But, I’m just human enough to feel exasperated, humble, foolish and vainglorious about the fact that I have no control.

So I’m sitting here thinking about how I want something fresh to spring into my life; something that I cannot control, that I have to be willing to lay all of myself out for, that requires me to be with others as they do the same, something that may still not come to pass. I want this possibility, and I don’t want it. I’m tired. Maybe tired enough to be an elder. I don’t know if my heart can stand another disappointment. On the other hand, I don’t know if my heart can stand holding back, not trying, not being exposed and naked.

What waits, I trust, I don’t know why, I have good reason to look elsewhere, and yet here I am. I don’t think it is because of me, there is nothing special in my being, except maybe, this foolish longing, that hopes for the miracle to come, like a spring, or some other manifestation of deeply mysterious origins.

Neuroplasticity (Part I) - by Lucky

 

I’ve been brain-damaged for almost seven years now. So, I have been following very closely the research on neuroplasticity and stem cells. I have a friend who had her stroke in the Himalyis, while she was visiting her Tibetan spiritual teacher. It was three weeks before she reached the hospital in New Delhi, and 3 years before she learned to talk again. She is an expert on brain plasticity having recovered her speech, walking again, and recovering some use of her arm. She has taught me about the potential that has recently been discovered. This missive is not so much about that, however. I write because of another aspect of the research into neuroplasticity that concerns me.

I have watched us, humankind, respond to the shift of awareness from a (once thought) static and unchanging brain, to one that changes and can be engineered. What concerns me is the attitude we seem to be adopting. The brain has been plastic for a long time, to nature’s specifications, and we have just discovered this fact, and are busily trying to change our brain function without much awareness of why we may have this marvelous capability in the first place.

Recently, developmental scientists have shown that there are multiple stages of adult development, that human adults grow and change over time. We, as a species, have been endowed with a lot of potential that we have yet to actualize. Since these stages represent real changes in mental outlook, capabilities, worldview and freedom of choice, they also represent (this assumption has been untested thus far) changes in our brain function. The current research has focused some on early childhood development and how awareness of the plasticity of the brain can be used to treat early brain deficits or accidents. At this point, no one is looking at what nature seems to have intended by designing us this way. Knowing that we were designed by nature, over a billion years or so, I have some concern that we may be acting with a great deal of hubris. I think we should pay attention to what nature intended, and designed for, before we act like this is a new, never before discovered phenomenon, that can, and should, be applied to all manner of human difficulties.

Understanding the changeability of the brain is a real breakthrough in our understanding. We are liberated, understanding our own nature, our own potential much better. We are poised on the threshold of a new era. My concern is that we might act on this new knowledge without understanding the natural context in which it evolved. Time and again I have seen the consequences of these kind of actions. It is not only time to be excited, but to consider what is really important. Before we make economic and scientific assumptions about this capability, we should consider how our very own potential may be effected.

In the meantime, this awareness, that the brain is flexible and responds to its environment, is leading to some interesting new thought. With the demographics of our population shifting toward the aged, there is more concern going into how to maintain the vitality, health and productivity of the elderly. This has prompted some focus upon ageing brains, and has led to some innovative ideas about protecting, and improving, brain functioning in elders. Below is one set of findings for preserving, and extending, good brain function in seniors.

A Chicago Tribune article a couple of days ago, titled Seniors see improvement in brain-training classes, includes

0.“Over the next few years, we will see these [brain health] programs burst into the mainstream with great force,” predicted Dr. Elkhonon Goldberg, a clinical professor of neurology at New York University School of Medicine and co-founder of Sharp Brains, a company that evaluates and helps markets brain fitness programs. A growing body of scientific studies supports the trend.”

0.“The major finding was stunning: Relatively short training regimens — 10 sessions of 1 to 1.5 hours each over five or six weeks — improved mental functioning as long as five years later. Booster sessions helped advance these gains, and some people found it easier to perform everyday tasks, such as managing finances, after mental workouts.”

0.“I think what this shows, conclusively, is that when healthy older people put effort into learning new things, they can improve their mental fitness,” said Michael Marsiske, a member of the research team and an associate professor at the University of Florida at Gainesville. “And even if structured learning is relatively brief, you should be able to see the benefits of that learning for some time to come.”

0.Not all training is alike, however. In the ACTIVE study, each form of mental training (for memory, speed or reasoning) affected only the function targeted without crossing over into other realms. Training results were strongest for speed of mental processing and weakest for memory.

0.“What this tells us is that specific brain functions may need different types of training,” said Dr. Jeffrey Elias, chief of the cognitive-aging program at the National Institute on Aging, which helped fund the ACTIVE study.

0.“With that in mind, researchers probably will design comprehensive programs with multiple types of training to forestall age-related mental decline, Elias predicted.”

My hope is that you will find the way to maximize your potential, without compromising the potential nature endowed you with.

l/d

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In my typical brain-damaged fashion I made several mistakes when I provided you information about my new blog. The correct address is http//thslowlane.blogspot.com. Notice I left out the e when creating my blogs addresss. Please make sure to include this typo when you check it out, or pass it along.

Neuroplasticity (Part II) - by Lucky

As you know I have some concerns about how the new found capacity of the human brain is being thought about, and used. We are in a new brain-changing era. The public relations people, the advertising agencies, and the corporate world, are all poising to capitalize on the amazing capacity of the human brain to change with its environment. I can predict a not too distant future where there will be intense social pressure to be actively enhancing your brain function. It seems likely, with the flexibility of the brain, and new brain measuring capabilities, that we may be able to modify our brain function. The concern I have is that we might not do so wisely. Here is why I think that way.

The human brain has been plastic for a long time. Do you know why? The short answer, and it is correct as far as it goes, is because it gave our species a competitive advantage. Basically, we were made the fittest by this development. But, that isn’t a very deep, or informative reason. No one really knows why. Researchers, as far as I can tell, are not really looking into that. Instead they are being funded to find applications for this new knowledge. This poses the prospect that we, as a species, could gain some control over our own brain development, and accidentally override the real reasons nature endowed us with this quality.

Consider the social dimension of our development. There is some evidence that the human brain developed as it did because we are a social species. Language, culture, art, and community all co-evolved with our plastic brains. We may have established the scientific capacity to provide evidence that we can improve memory, speed-up cognitive function and make the brain function more efficiently, but we don’t know how to measure, and show, if our brains are gaining the capacity for cooperation, social coordination, and compassion. In fact messing with one might mean messing with the other.

I come down in the camp, where it seems to me, that what is vitally important to the well-being of our species is that we preserve our ability to care for each other. I worry about us gaining this ability, to engineer the brain, in a culture that is so oriented toward individuality, that sees human potential in those same terms, and easily overlooks the social nature of who we are. Brain-change might just mean reinforcing these tendencies, the emphasis on individuality, at the expense of the social glue that gives us such incredible potential.

For instance, as I reviewed the body of public literature describing research into brain plasticity, I found no research addressing the social aspects of brain functioning. I found this despite Dan Goleman’s well-documented book on the social nature of the brain, despite neuro-scientists pointing out that the human brain develops best under conditions of  synchrony with other brains, and even despite recent research that shows that human life is extended, with better quality, when people are more socially connected. The field is primarily interested in how individuals can change their brains.

This isn’t the end-all, or be-all, of brain research. There are a small minority of researchers, and practitioners, who are interested in how relationships effect brain development. There are some limited findings that show that human beings grow, in wisdom, consciousness,  and social capacity through neuroplastic events. There are conditions that accompany and increase the probability of these kind of neuroplastic events. They happen primarily through intimate activities. Imagine that, intimacy promotes brain development! Below you will find some of the conditions that make this possible.

• a strong and resilient collaborative (mutually attuned) alliance

• moderate levels of stress and emotional arousal (interpersonal tension), alternating with calm

• intense and profound intersubjective moments of meeting

• information and experience gathered across multiple dimensions of cognition, emotion, sensations, and behaviors.

• activating brain neural networks involved in processing and regulating thoughts, feelings, sensations, and behavior

• new conceptual knowledge integrating emotional and bodily experience

• organizing experiences in ways that foster continued growth and integration.

                 (from Intimacy and Desire by David Schnarch, Ph.D. pg.289, (parentheses are mine)

It is my contention that all forms of intimacy promote the growth of the social dimension of our brains. This includes the very difficult forms of public intimacy, being real, that can occur in community situations. When this aspect of who we are, as a species, is ignored (because it seems too difficult) then we deprive each other of what is needed to create neuroplastic events that enhance our brains and feed our social capabilities. I believe we have an as yet unexplored social potential, that I would hate to see reduced, by too great an emphasis upon the potential of our individual brains.

l/d

Lost - by Lucky

 

I got lost this week. Very lost. I was traveling home from work in Palo Alto, when I discovered I was caught in the wrong lane and I was shuffled off onto another freeway going someplace I didn’t want to go. No problem. I just took the first exit and found my way back onto the freeway going the other way. Then the trouble began. I could not find an exit back onto my original road, and as I looked for what I sought, it got foggier and foggier. Soon, I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t read the highway signs, and eventually I didn’t even know which way I was headed. I kept driving, thinking I would see something I recognized, something that would help me get oriented, but I didn’t, instead I just got further disoriented.

This Slow Lane is my meditation upon being lost. I’ve had many experiences with being lost, and it now seems that being lost is a great metaphor, or perhaps the actual truth, for the experience of trying to make it through this world. The existential truth seems to be that I have to keep going and I have very little to go on. Every step of the way I like to think I know where I am going, but I really have no idea. The more oriented I believe I am, the more lost I discover myself to be.

I remember that my grandfather used to take me with him on his driving adventures when I was a small child. We used to enjoy driving around trying to get lost, so we could find our way back home. A really good adventure meant that we had gotten really lost. Then we had the joy of a good puzzle and of a happy return home. These were happy moments that were special for my grandfather and I. I never knew what they meant to him, but I was never afraid of getting lost, and always felt I would find my way back home.

The year of my stroke, but a few months before it, I did something similar. I drove deep into a part of Northern California I had never been to. I took the highway until I got way out into the country, then I left the highway for fire roads. Eventually I was so far from civilization that I hadn’t even seen another vehicle for hours. Then I knew I was lost. I was completely alone, had no idea where I was, and could die. I had no water, food, or extra fuel. I scared myself by feeling irrationally exhilarated and at peace. I sat in my car for a while, knowing I was far enough from home that I might not make it home, and yet determined to try. Looking back, I think I was a little crazy, and in intuitive touch with the changes that were coming to alter my path.

In that case, as in my childhood, being lost was part of the thrill of living. I didn’t have that feeling when I got lost recently. I crept along highways at 25 miles an hour, endangering myself, and others, searching for some indication of which way to go. I reached such a fevered terror, such a state of lostness and aloneness, that I wanted to just drive off the road and let natural consequences take me. I was so lost, afraid and alone that I came face to face with my willingness to live. Eventually, I took responsibility for my poor broken self, figured I still wanted to live, and got myself together, got help, and got myself home. The journey was arduous, left me shaken, and reminded me how much I depend upon myself to keep the vital connections that bind me to this life.

Being lost like that has left me in some kind of altered state. I think that the experience of being so lost, and of deciding, despite my fear, vulnerability, and hopelessness, to live, to keep going, is a kind of omen. My life, or what I think of as my life, is probably taking another careening step in some new direction that I have no idea about. I am about to discover that where I am, or where I thought I was, is not really where I am at all. I am lost right here in this life. 

It’s a good thing, a gift from my grandfather (I wonder if he ever knew what he was doing), that I have some good associations with getting, and being, lost. At the moment I feel overwhelmingly touched by the sense that when I am most lost, I am closest to home, on the right path at last, and when I know where I am headed, or think I do, I am most lost.

I found my way home last week, to an elder circle where we talked about loss, need, and the gifts they can bring. I made the decision to live, to get un-lost, only to return to a very human circle being confronted with the question, “How can we help each other with the many challenges associated with getting older and facing death?” This circle brought to mind the realization that all of us are likely to live long-enough to be stripped of most of the ways we have known ourselves, and our lives. We are essentially heading into being lost, and, in the estimation of this group, of being found, as the true beings of light we are.

It is funny that being so lost can help one find what is so essential.

l/d