Perspective

The other day I was listening to a radio show on travel. The guest was talking about his career as a travel journalist and the pros and cons of travelling alone. When it came time for listener comments, a man called in and said, “My motto is, ‘I’m never lost, I just don’t know where I am.’”

I turned this over in my mind a few times. I started wishing I had known about that motto when I was grieving and felt utterly lost in a world I no longer recognized. Or when the opposing forces of coming out as a lesbian and my conservative Christian beliefs collided and tossed my self-confidence about like a lawn chair in a hurricane. Or when I was laid off from my job and panicky about how I was going to pay the rent.

If only I’d known that I wasn’t really lost, I just didn’t know where I was. That the experience of not knowing where I was would make me stronger, and that it would open new doors for me as I explored areas I wouldn’t have explored if I hadn’t been unwillingly thrust into them.

Because I didn’t know where I was, I learned that grief doesn’t end, but it does get better. This lesson propelled me to help others who need an anchor when they, too, are feeling lost in their sea of grief.  I can help them to eventually see that they aren’t lost, they just don’t know where they are right now.

Because I didn’t know where I was, I learned that there are many different ways to think about life rather than being locked into one narrow belief system. I was able to grow a healthy respect for different faiths, different viewpoints, and different lifestyles. And I learned that I was more okay than I ever thought I would be when my vision was so constricted.

Because I didn’t know where I was, I took the first job that came along after I was laid off, something outside of my skill set and training. My wild attempt to latch onto stability launched me on a wonderful fifteen-year experience that was rife with discovery: I had leadership skills I never knew about; I was more creative than I had given myself credit for; I found a passion for advocating for the underdog on the margins of society – people who need and want skills to bounce back from adversity.

Not knowing where I am brings color and vitality to my life. The difference between now and those past experiences is that now I can celebrate and anticipate not knowing where I am. Even if it’s uncomfortable, I still know that I’m in a space where I might discover something new about myself right around the next corner.

How has not knowing where you were influenced your life?

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I really believe that part of being resilient is learning to get perspective. To get a different perspective, actually. My client who is struggling with the recent death of her mother feels guilty because she would have spent more time with her mother if she had known when her mother was going to die. Her perspective currently is through the filter of extreme grief where, because she knows now when her mother died, she feels that she would have, should have, could have done more. In awhile, after time has passed, she’ll gain a new perspective. She will realize that she could not have known when her mother was going to die and that she actually had a very are rich and meaningful last few days with her mother.

Many of the people I have talked with who are dealing with financial grief of some sort tell me that perspective has helped them as well. They have found new opportunities after losing a job, a house, or other precious assets. New and more meaningful careers, a simpler lifestyle, and renewed gratitude for life just as it is are some of the gifts born from what seemed to be tragic losses. “I never thought anything good would come from my being unemployed, Bobbi,” one woman told me, “But my relationship with my husband has become so much richer. It’s because we have more time together now!”


Awhile back, I heard an amazing show on Talk of the Nation on NPR. They were talking with people who, because of the poor economy, were in difficult financial circumstances and had to be on food stamps for the first time in their lives. Surprisingly, many of them enjoyed the experience! “I think everyone should have to do it at some time in their lives,” one caller said, “I learned a ton about budgeting, buying healthy foods, and how to cook well.”


One more example: Shortly before my late partner died, I emailed friends and family that she was in a coma. My aunt wrote back and said, “Bobbi, I think Ruth is not in a coma, but a comma. Just a little pause in the journey before she continues on.” This new perspective brought me peace and even some joy as I contemplated Ruth’s “comma” before she passed on to the new part of her journey.


It’s really easy to think that our current perspective is the only one or the true one. But this limits our ability to enjoy new learning opportunities and seeing gifts where we thought there were none. We think a beautiful thing that has become cracked is now ruined. Yet, as Leonard Cohen says, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”