TOTAL READ TIME: 4 Minutes
Last fall I spent a week in Barcelona with my dear friend Cheryl. Although we’ve only known each other a short three years, from day one our conversations have been gapless with the only interruptions being bursting laughter and admiration for each other’s journeys.
Arriving at dawn in Barcelona, we followed the travel rule of “don’t sleep until bedtime” on the first day. Our hotel was in the Gothic quarter, a stone-built crooked labyrinth in the heart of Barcelona. We knew this maze would win until we got our bearings. So off exploring we went. Cheryl was armed with a folded city map, a small compass and wide eyes. I was armed with Cheryl by my side.
On this first day we walked and walked and walked some more. We walked with our soles (and souls) getting used to the cushion of ancient stones instead of modern concrete. The Gaudi architecture, Columbus statues, the masculine thrust of the Roman empire and hidden hints of Jewish culture became a playground for our overflowing conversation.
Once we found the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, we kept walking north. Our stomachs turned us left in the direction of seafood paella, dining under the giant Golden Fish sculpture by Frank Gehry.
Dusk reminded us of our long journey back to the labyrinth entrance, then our hotel at its center. We didn’t consider the easy route of calling a car; so, we began our walk, retracing our steps.
After a few disagreements on which way to turn, it was time for Cheryl to pull out her trusty map and compass. Although we appeared lost, Cheryl had opened up a new-found sense of excitement, like a quest for treasure. She then qualified the glimmer in her eyes with her next declaration, “I love wayfinding in a new city.”
First, we stopped to orient ourselves, find landmarks and study the map. Then we made a decision on which route to go. At times, we looked down a dark street and heard “Nope!” in our heads at the same time. We periodically stopped again to ensure we were on the desired path. Once, we ducked into a tapas joint to ask for help. Although we walked in a few circles and it took two hours to get to the hotel, it was an adventure.
Whether or not you have walked the streets of an unknown city, you too are a Wayfinder. We are all Wayfinders. This life can be scary at those times when we walk through crooked labyrinths and dark streets. At times we are not sure about which choice to make – left or right. When we pull out our compass, which may be God, Jesus or our intuition, we may not get a clear reading.
Here is what I learned from Cheryl during our Wayfinder journey: we were never lost. You are never lost. You may feel that way at times, but if one path takes you to a place you don’t like – turn around. Try another route.
We are never too old to change directions, make a new choice or walk a new street. From my labyrinth to yours, I will smile when we find each other, compasses in hand. We will remind each other that we are not lost, only wayfinding together through this life labyrinth.