Lost…and Found?

IPhone says I’ve walked 23,610 steps, 11.22 miles, and climbed 25 flights of stairs. That’s about right. I’m in pretty good shape just simply because of what I do for a living. I average walking 4-5 miles a day. I’ve worked real hard on my eating habits. And I’m working on eliminating a severe chronic stress issue. Still, that’s a lot of walking.


I’m attempting to walk Rome. I have no itinerary. I want to see the “must sees” – The Vatican, Sistine Chapel, Florence and David, the Pantheon, etc. I have great, well-travelled customers and friends who’ve helped me shape how to approach this vacation. But I’ve decided the best thing I can do is get lost.

Art literally is around every corner here. I turn down a street and I’m confronted with beauty and wonder, history and awe. I’m also confronted with thieves and swindlers. I learned quick (at the airport taxi hub) to ignore the latter and focus on the former.

I finally had to ask for directions – twice. You know, I’m a guy. I pride myself on my internal GPS; yes, I had to swallow hard. That’s good. The only way to confront control issues is to be open to losing control. Sometimes, not being right, getting lost if you will, is a good way to be found.

I had a conversation with a dear friend right before I left for Rome. There was a lot of sadness involved, a bitterness at the unfairness life brings to all of us. I told my friend that we always have to hold things with an open hand, to accept the possibility that what we cherish most may be lost. It’s a call to take nothing for granted; to live each day relishing the moment; to give space to the sunrise and wonder to the sunset. To leave nothing unsaid. I’m really trying to practice what I preach.

Tonight, I write this having finally found my hotel. With a bottle of wine I picked up from a street vendor. I think I’m the only guy in Rome wearing a cowboy hat. No hiding that I’m not from around these parts. Sometimes, you just gotta get lost in order to get to the other side.