Column In physical, spiritual worlds, getting lost can be an
advantage
By JEANNETTE BATZ
If you give me directions into a
subdivision, youll have to write another set to get me back out. If
Im absolutely sure its a left at the light, my husbands
learned to turn right. At high school speech tournaments, my friends had to
find my competition room for me before going on to theirs, lest I spend the
final round wandering through the halls.
My failure to comprehend spatial relationships used to cast a pall
over new adventures. A working trip to Spain sounds glamorous until youre
lost deep in a barrio, children clinging to the sides of your rental car, not a
word of Spanish but hola at your grasp.
Recently, though, Ive decided that a tendency to get lost is
an advantage. Unable to survive on my own with a Trip-tik, I throw myself upon
strangers mercy. Unable to grasp more than the first leg of the journey
they scribble on my napkin, I seek out still more kindness. Invariably, I find
it. People love to know the answer, share it, see your eyes light with
understanding and receive your thanks.
This is why, in the 22 years since I began driving, I have
accumulated thousands more proofs of human kindness than your self-reliant Boy
Scout types who squint up at the sun and plot their course. I have been trusted
with natives shortcuts, heard the dangers of certain intersections,
learned the lore of the lakes and bridges where children were conceived,
treasure was found or misery led to suicide.
Helplessness works equally well in the spiritual geography. Every
time I ask someone how she negotiated a sharp curve in lifes path, I
receive vicarious wisdom. Every time I admit Im lost, somebody arrives to
show me a way out.
So why do I keep trying to unfold my own private, unreadable map
and take off alone?
The prospect of spiritual direction, for example, terrifies me. If
I open my soul that intimately, it will become obvious to the wise spiritual
director how woefully un-spiritual I really am. Or Ill be told that the
very path Ive shunned -- asceticism, maybe, or repetitive devotional
practice -- is the only way to reach the next destination. Or it will become
apparent that as yet I have no destination. Im just driving, wind in my
hair and the radio on.
Confessions easy: I just think up some sins Ive
committed and pick the ones that sound right, appropriately humble but not
unacceptable in anyones eyes. Wouldnt dream of confessing the sin
of inauthenticity; of contriving this very confession according to my
egos needs and the worlds standards; of failing to trust God enough
to simply blurt out my hearts regrets.
So what made me think my ability to orient myself spiritually was
any better than my sense of geographic direction? Nothing at all. Its
just that vulnerabilitys easier to admit in the physical realm. Anyway,
the physical realm nails you: Lose your way, and you dont show up where
youre supposed to be.
In less tangible dimensions of life, its easier to fake it,
act like you know where youre going and just keep turning right.
If youre driving in circles, wholl know?
Jeannette Batz is a staff writer for The Riverfront
Times, an alternative newspaper in St. Louis.
National Catholic Reporter, November 5,
1999
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