Right now I find that I am backtracking a bit, following my footsteps while they are still fresh to see if I can find may way again because, FUCK, somewhere I definitely got off track.
Great, now I have that Robert Frost poem threading through my brain, and yet that is not what I mean at all. I am not talking about conscious decisions to take a certain road, or blazing new trails, or being all kinds of adventuresome.
I am talking about becoming so intent on the destination that you lose your footing, you stumble, and by the time you pick yourself up you find that you are not all all where you thought you were...and you become paralyzed by the sense of panic that swells up as you realize that You Are Lost.
Perhaps even worse, however, is when you misstep and take a fall, only to pick yourself up and catch a glimpse of yourself--just for a moment--in the faces of those around you, only to realize that you no longer recognize yourself and what you have become.
I still recognize myself. There are a few more lines there that reflect this journey, and my eyes are a bit darker than I remember them, but I do still recognize myself. I am relieved.
I must stop more, look around, and watch my step. Perhaps sit down a bit, and let it all soak in before moving on.
I was lucky this time.