I’ve been lost so damn many times in my life it isn’t funny.
I have no sense of direction at all. None.
As you can imagine, my life’s
been a lot less stressful since
I got a portable navigation device.

I’d worry about my directionless being a sign of Alzheimers
except that I’ve always been this way.

Maybe that directionless has extended to my life in general,
at least at times.
Maybe that’s why I’ve felt like a stranger
in a strange land more than once in my life.
I casually walk down a life path and boom!
I’m somewhere completely unfamiliar
and have no idea how I’ve gotten there.

How many of us really have the nerve
to take the road less traveled?

I know a lovely native Californian who
simply couldn’t cope with living in the South,
even temporarily.
Think of it as an adventure, like
being posted to a base in the military, I suggested.
Uh-uh. No can do.

It’s easy to stick close to home,
to the people and places and things we know.
It’s harder to step out into the great unknown.

I won’t pretend that I don’t control my risk.
There’s some I’m willing to take, like moving to a new place.
Starting a new relationship.
Taking a new job.
Writing a book.

And others I wouldn’t take for a million bucks:
Parachuting, for example.
Hiking on the Iranian border.
And ziplining across the Grand Canyon.

Still, I have always had more tolerance for risk
than the average Jill.
And I’m not afraid of digging around the muck
of a confusing situation, either.
{I have lots of experience in that.}

I finally got over my fear of getting lost
when I realized that some of my best adventures
and life lessons have come from
taking unfamiliar paths.

So, yeah, the path less traveled?
Bring it, baby. Bring it.