We all get lost. If you are anything like me, you may feel at least a little bit lost, some or most of the time.
I’m not talking about the experience of failing to recognize location. Fortunately, I am still blessed with a mind sufficiently sound to read or envision a map and place a mental “x” in it regarding my physical whereabouts. The lost I’m referring to is different to geospatial bewilderment. It’s a sort of purpose lost – a sense of not knowing where I fit into familiar surroundings, of not having an idea of where I’m heading in those surroundings, of feeling uncertain where I should be heading. There is place – here – and there is direction – towards some there. The two are related but quite distinct.
I don’t mean to sound morose; I’ve grown accustomed to the existential dizziness of directional disorientation. It no longer unnerves me, at least not completely. Being adrift in one’s heading doesn’t necessarily keep a person from being happy, healthy, and enjoying, intermittently and regularly, the beauty of life. That’s why I’m exploring the importance of routines; consistency in schedule can offer excellent comfort during times of turbulence or uncertainty. It’s also why I’ve been trying to learn more about humility. A release to humbleness can offer neat bulwark against the experiential pressure to see ahead in life’s course, to recognize and manage expectations related to current position and the plot of a map for moving forward. It is impossible to know what lies before me. Humility necessitates that I try not to try.
And yet something confronts me when I consider humility and its role in my life. I don’t understand humility, not really. The more I consider it, the more I’m not sure what it is I should be understanding.
On the one hand, humility seems foundational to the search for wisdom. On the other hand, it seems equally contributory to the strengthening of self image as a person ages and seeks, quite naturally, to become wise.
I should live for more than myself. Got it – that’s the humility essence. So I must think less of myself and give more to others, with minimal thought (if I can) about my own needs.
So how am I doing, when it comes to living that essence? Well, yesterday , perhaps not so great. I reacted in such and such a way when I should have reacted in such and such a better way. Today, however, I’ve been a bit better. And overall, maybe this week (or month) was better than last.
Am I more humble? I think so. I’m trying to be so. Yeah, on balance, I’m probably more so.
Well – good. That’s progress. I’m learning. I’m advancing. I’m becoming a bit more wise.
And wham!, just like that, I’ve fallen into the humility trap. By trying to be more humble, and by assessing my success along the path to being more humble, I step willingly, even enthusiastically, into the large hole that ego has expertly camouflaged along the trail. Ego’s ambush can be so deceptive that I may not actually notice that I’ve fallen into it. My eyes are still lifted upward. I’ve lost sight of the place where my feet make contact with the earth.
I can become proud of becoming humble. And pride is the antithesis of a humility essence.
It is tricky, this journey we are on. We don’t know where we have come from. We don’t know where we are going. The timing of transitions is obscure. The opportunity for confusion abounds.
Am I to reject humility on the grounds of its close proximity, if care isn’t maintained, to pride?
I think not. But I also think that I should reframe my perspective on the humble. It cannot be a goal. It must, instead, be a value. A virtue. A way to be and not a destination to reach. A color rather than a surface which has color. I should be humble in the moments rather than the hours. I should be outside myself without looking back on whether I’m outside myself.
Maybe feeling lost is not so bad after all. Maybe a focus on contact with the ground is a good approach to knowing where I am – and always being able to be found.