"To be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery" - Rebecca Solnit

At the end of July I took a holiday. I went halfway around the world to Australia - a place that, to me, seemed alright enough, but which I had no desire to really go - for whatever reason. But I needed out. I needed a break. I needed to find myself again. And, the thought of place with white sand beaches and quality cafes thousands of miles away from my current reality and all that I knew, seemed, to me, like a good idea.

This summer, for me, has been an experiment in getting lost - although not intentionally lost, not the beauty of being lost that elicits mystery and wonder. This summer I was just - lost.

It was a full summer. My thoughts were completely entrapped by my emotions and from minute to minute or week to week there was so much brewing in my thoughts that I had to get them out of my head for fear of going crazy otherwise.

So, I sent myself emails. Walking down the street, on the subway, in a cab, in the middle of a project at work... I would release all the thoughts, ideas, feelings, anything emerging inside my head into my iPhone - sending whatever words, phrases, verbiage that made its way into my phone across the World Wide Web and back to myself.

Yesterday, I reviewed many of these emails. Many of them too deeply personal for the public domain. Those thoughts, those deeply personal moments, I will keep. I will store them away until their memories are wasted away by time and are either no more, or too faded to be significant anymore.

But others were built for reflection, for learning, for finding my way back from being truly lost. And because it is September, and Autumn seems a good time for reflection and new starts, here are a few snippets of those brain release emails from a chosen couple of days in July. Part of my journey. My thoughts on life, love,

this

city - thoughts free from my usual snarky, cynical, sarcastic remarks; these are a select and, admittedly, censored, peek behind the curtain. A peek into my getting lost and trying to find myself again.

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July 21st

Subject: LOST

My personality lends itself to wandering, to getting lost, to choosing to lose myself. I'm curious, stubborn, and I don't like rules.

Its true, I do enjoy getting lost. It is my favorite part of travel. That is when the adventure comes in, the excitement, that sense of serendipity and possibility.

I have a strong sense of direction. For this, I blame my father. And, left to my own devices I am usually very good at finding my way home, my way back to the realities of whatever situation I am in after an afternoon of refreshing exploration and intentionally losing myself.

Getting lost. Its why I studied abroad; why I moved to London and then New York. For the Adventure.

So, what happened?

Somewhere, somehow I just stopped paying attention. Because now I FEEL lost. Now, I don't know the way out. And, for some reason, I just keep going. I keep going and going and the further I go the deeper I fall into... into what? I don't know. I fear I've gone beyond lost, its as if I - the me, the Heather - am slowly vanishing.

I need to stop. Check my surroundings. Make a plan? But its so dark I can't see.

I've gone so deep that I no longer have time to be lost. I need a view, I need perspective, I need to turn toward the path out of the blackness and back to a sense of control - control that I can chose to give up, rather than have it taken from me...

Sent from my iPhone

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July 22nd

Subject: Broken

I saw the movie "Trainwreck" tonight. I saw it on my own, I didn't feel like going home and had been wanting to see it anyway, so it seemed like the perfect solution. And it was, I guess. I am glad I went.

But, surprisingly, this ridiculous dirty rom-com of a movie had more meaning for my life in the current moment than I thought it would, or even could.

The protagonist (The 'Trainwreck'), hits a point where she realizes she can't go on living her life as she is and that her life is spiraling out of control. She realizes she has no plan, she just ... goes; does whatever, whenever. She is LOST. At this point she goes to her sister, in tears, apologizing, and looks up amid her tears and rambling words and says, "I'm Broken".

I couldn't help myself. in that exact moment, I burst into tears. I cried. I CRIED. I never cry, but I cried at a comedy staring Amy Schumer. But, hadn't I uttered those exact same words only the week before? "I'm Broken". (ok, admittedly, under different circumstances than the character in this movie, but still...)

...

Last Friday I met up with ---- , he too had seen the movie and at one point I asked him that I'd heard that if you can't identify the 'trainwreck' within your group of friends... its probably you, and if he thought this was true? He didn't agree. But I think I do. And I feel like it is me. I'm the trainwreck... "I'm Broken".

...

Sent from my iPhone

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July 22nd

Subject: Losing

I got intentionally lost tonight.

I didn't realize I was doing it until in the midst of it. I wouldn't have realized it if not for the book that 'C' gave me on the art of getting lost.

But, the book is right - intentionally losing yourself is different from being lost.

Tonight, I took the long way home. I needed to be refreshed, revived, to feel, to have time and space to ... well, not to forget, but to let go.

Getting lost is a luxury that you need either the time or the courage to take. One does not go lightly into losing themselves because if you lose yourself too far, get too comfortable, stop paying attention, you get lost and are no longer present to the world.

Its said that 'not all who wander are lost'. So tonight, I wandered. I took the long way home. I soaked up the streets around me - the man who couldn't keep his balance and clung to the brick walls, trash cans and trees of 9th street as he stumbled home after midnight. The young punk couple holding hands, trying to politely avoid him. The police lingering around Tompkins Square Park as if they were doing a drug deal rather than trying to prevent one. The man buying his very young and attractive companion an ice cream at the bodega.... no doubt hoping she might repay the favor in some way.

This evening is pleasant. The humidity of earlier in the day has burned off. There is a breeze - New York feels oddly, fresh.

I love walking. In New York the atmosphere of the city changes not with each block, but with every ten steps you take. Passing first by a somber bar, then a crowded one blasting music. A group of friends engaged in enthusiastic chatter, an annoyed roommate dressed in suit and tie taking his drunken friend home - likely very aware of the start of his work day tomorrow, a Wednesday. Because in New York, Tuesday is the new Friday. But so is Monday, and Wednesday and Thursday, Sunday too. By Friday we are all too tired to go out from all of the Fridays we've taken mid-week. And Saturday, the sacred day. A glorious day and night filled with whatever you like and with the gift of Sunday morning to recover from the night - or earlier hours - before, time to ease the pain with boozy brunches, naps in parks and media on demand before the rat race begins again.

This is New York - this is our normal.

Movies at midnight, sharing the streets with rats, high heels and the homeless - those who chose it and those who don't. The drunk, the police, the priest and the rabbi, those who wander and those who truly are lost.

Welcome to New York. It hasn't been waiting for you. You must make of her what you will, you must carve yourself into her or you will fall away. But be wary - because once you do, she becomes difficult to leave - her splinters will follow you wherever you go.

Tonight I lost myself in the city. A refreshing way to re-experience a land you think you know.

Sent from my iPhone

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I left for Australia two days later. Australia brought me the perspective that I desperately needed.

In Oz I stopped. I never stop, so it was strange at first. And yet, it didn't take too long for me to melt right into it. It seemed all I could do, was be. For a moment, time seemed to stop. I've never felt anything like it before.

I went to the ocean daily. Someone once told me that how a person feels about the ocean is how they view love. I'm not sure if this is true. However, a month ago I would have said the ocean is a big, scary and unknown place. I had no desire to dive in, but was satisfied viewing it from a distance.

But now, this has shifted. I see the ocean as a thing of awe and beauty. I can no longer just look at it from the sidelines, I want to dive in. I remember the moment in Australia I first felt that way - I remember it so clearly because it was such a foreign feeling, to want to jump into the ocean, the deep, the unknown. But staring at it, watching the surfers bob on the surface, I became obsessed with wanting to float and soak in the water. All of a sudden all I could think was, 'Why go all this way and stop at the sand?'

I don't know if the metaphor on love and my changing perception of the ocean means anything. All I know is that I'm trying to hold on. To hold on to that space, that place where the ocean feels beautiful and dangerously safe. The place where my mind can shut off and instinct can kick in. The place where I am in control of my wandering rather than truly lost. My personality and soul are wired to wonder. It is not a bad thing, but one which must be trained, managed, kept in check. Like any indulgence, it can go too far.