Map of the World

When I was in college, we had a tradition of senior will night, a time close to the end of the year when all the seniors in the house would will their belongings to underclasswomen. As a sophomore, I was willed a map of Europe by one senior who had spent her junior year abroad in Switzerland. She knew that I was headed for Scotland the following year for my junior year abroad so she left me her map. She had had her map up on her wall all year with stick pins in it for all the places she had been on her year abroad, so when I received it, it still had her pinholes in it marking her journeys. I was tremendously touched by her gift and reassured by it; it was a tangible symbol of the possibility of making this venture for myself, and returning from it with new stories and new experiences, and maybe some pinholes of my own to add to her map.

I had a soft spot for maps anyway, being a bear with very little directional sense (see blog title). Maps for me were a secret weapon and I believed there was magic in all the little blue river lines, crinkly mountains, different-sized dots for different-sized cities. Whenever I had to drive anywhere, I would listen politely to the directions given me, then go directly to my map and plan out my own route in great detail. When I did make my journey to Scotland for the year, and from there out into the rest of western Europe, I tried to get a map of every place I went. Those became my tokens of success.

Recently a much younger friend was moaning about how she wished she could just stop everything and just figure things out. If she could only have some time to figure things out. I had been listening, I confess, with some irritation, hearing a lot of "oh, poor me", but when she said that I had a little flash of compassion that trailed along with my own memories of feeling exactly that way, oh about 20 years ago. Having that sense that somehow, if I could just stop long enough to plan things out, I could create my own map to make my life clear from this point forward. There would be no more confusion, or feeling like events were somehow overtaking me, or that I had only limited control over my direction. No, I would have a map! Something I could actually hold and refer to that would have little lines and labels on it helping me find my way. I would never feel lost again.

It was only as time went on, and I just kept living my life and finding my way without the map, making pinholes for new experiences and labels for places I didn't want to visit again, and somehow, without ever actually being able to stop everything to figure it all out, figuring most of it out anyway, that I realized that that's how it actually works for everyone. Now all these years later I wouldn't want to stop my life and get off for a while. Even when things are hard I know I carry my own map to get me through. And mostly, I know I have found the place I want to call home, and the places I want to keep exploring, the people to share it with, and I don't really need to stop everything because I know I have what I need. I also know now that I have the resources available to me to cope with whatever comes, even if it turns everything upside down.

Listening to my friend though, I wished I could somehow will her my old map with all my pinholes, to show her that she will find her way and that everything will be all right even if she can't find a way to stop the world. She will find her way like we all do, creating her own map and her own set of directions.

copyright 2007 J. Autumn Needles