Most people fear getting lost. I chase it.

There’s something strangely holy about not knowing where you are for once. It shakes you awake, cracks your routine, and hands your ego a paper map it doesn’t know how to fold.

When I travel, it’s never just about reaching a destination. It’s about letting the world rearrange me. Every detour, every “Road Closed” sign, every missed exit feels like a divine joke; one that somehow always lands right on time.

The first time I truly got lost was somewhere between Nevada and Northern California. My GPS gave up, my playlist cut out, and I was left with nothing but silence, mountains, and a slow-creeping panic that turned into laughter. I remember thinking: Well, this is how prophets are made.

Then the road curved. The trees opened. And suddenly I was somewhere too beautiful for directions; an endless landscape of light and pine, the kind that looks like it was brushed into existence by a calm, ancient hand.

Losing Your Way Is a Kind of Wisdom

We live in a world that praises certainty. But every real discovery, every honest encounter with self, happens when the plan falls apart. Getting lost teaches you how to listen again. To your body, to your intuition, to the road humming beneath your hands.

There’s science behind this, too. Psychologists say that disorientation activates parts of the brain linked to creativity and problem-solving. Wanderlust isn’t aimless, it’s a neurological awakening. Our ancestors followed rivers and stars; we follow Wi-Fi signals. But deep down, the same instinct burns: find, learn, return changed.

How to Get Lost (and Survive It)

1. Trust your curiosity. Let it lead you, even when it makes no sense.
2. Look up. There’s always a sky, even when the map disappears.
3. Speak to strangers. Half of life’s poetry is written in chance conversations.
4. Carry water and humility. Both will save you in different ways.
5. Laugh often. Especially at yourself.

I once ended up in a small diner off a forgotten highway. The cook called everyone “darlin’,” the pancakes were unapologetically massive, and the jukebox refused to play anything but Elvis. I stayed for hours, talking with travelers who also didn’t know where they were headed. It felt like belonging without borders.

What the Road Teaches

The road has no patience for pretense. It asks you to meet yourself as you are; unpolished, unpredictable, honest.

You start realizing how small you are compared to a mountain, yet how infinite you feel under an open sky. You learn that solitude isn’t loneliness; it’s the sound of your soul stretching.

Somewhere along the way, you stop worrying about what’s next. You start savoring what’s now… the wind through cracked windows, the way sunlight dances on asphalt, the quiet miracle of still being alive.

Getting lost, it turns out, isn’t losing at all. It’s remembering. Remembering that joy doesn’t need a plan. That direction is sometimes overrated. That the map was never the point, it was always the motion.

Maybe that’s what we’re all doing anyway… learning how to lose our way with more grace.

With love, light, and a half tank of gas,
Nic ✨