The Long Lost Life

Last weekend we visited Big Bear Lake. We went fishing, we went hiking, we climbed to the top of Castle Rock.  Amidst natural beauty on that scale, it is impossible not to feel like you are the most insignificant speck of dirt on the planet. The overwhelming size and landscape of Los Angeles makes it easy to forget that there’s a world outside the hills.

Feeling so small got me thinking about the existential crisis of the Millennial (ugh… that word is the worst): For myself, and most of my peers, the fear of becoming lost is haunting. I get this sense of dread, that one morning I’ll wake up and no longer matter, barely exist.

Very few of my friends know what the hell they are doing, and I certainly don’t have any answers. It feels as if we are all wading in pool of jello, waiting for some miraculous spoon to scoop us up and give us direction. This sense of “lost-ness” has become such a pervasive figure in my life that I often feel like it’s been there all along.  For as long as I can remember, my own desires have been the only directional forces in my life. I think maybe that’s the way it is for a lot of people.  I have these vivid memories of fighting my parents, tooth and nail, until they threw their hands up in the air and relented, “Do whatever you want, you stubborn girl!!”  But what happens when you no longer know what it is you want?

It’s difficult to put into words but I’m starting to question why I feel this desire for constant direction? Why anyone does? After all, I have a job, I have an amazing partner, I provide for myself, I have a roof over my head (listen to me, bragging). Why not just embrace the lost-life? Why not enjoy the wandering?

So, I guess that’s what I’m trying to do. If I can’t escape the lost-ness, I’ll just enjoy the lost-ness.

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*DISCLAIMER: Some of these photos were taken by Lia Towers (AKA this lady ↑)

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6 responses to “The Long Lost Life

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