A Search for Meaning
Recently I began reading the book, “On Becoming Lost: A Naturalist’s Search for Meaning”, a book by Cathy Johnson. In the book she speaks about her experiences detaching herself from society to run away to a forest close to her home in Missouri. She very poetically gives a description of every last detail of her escapades into this forest. It brings much attention to the smaller insignificant sounds, sights, smells, and touches that are easy to take for granted in a lifestyle that is polluted with hyperactivity.
Being lost is not a negative concept. Like the earth-shadowed moon, like night and day, being lost carries within itself its opposite: being found. Being lost just simply means we are wandering; is that so bad? If I were already safely found, settled and complacent, what would be the point of searching at all?
- Cathy Johnson
The accounts within this book have caused me to think about the origin of humans. To consider the possibilities of the complex simplicity within nature, and what it all means to my life. Throughout the years I have spent much time contemplating in an introspective manner. It has yielded opportunities for me to grow personally and to watch seasons of change in others. These experiences are never far and few between, as I strive to search for meaning in everything that I do. To be lost in a sense of never ending profound curiosity for the world.
That book sounds very intriguing, definitely the type of author to send chills down your spine and make you see your day-to-day life in a new light. Life without meaning is worthless, but a life spent trying to define the meaning of life is wasted.
Reading her quote makes me want to sit in an unoccupied place with natural scenery and the soft sputter of wildlife, focus on the things that I commonly take for granted, and then to sit in mental and verbal silence for hours on end.