Crossroad: (n) a road that crosses another road
I’m desperately trying to remember the formula. I’m sure it’s age-old—but one night I convinced myself that I came up with it on my own.
Having some time on my hands, I got in my car and started driving, attempting to get lost.
I wanted to see how much fun it would be to find my way back home. (This was long before GPS and also long before I had so much shit on my plate that I had free time.)
So I set off driving, tried to ignore the signs or the names of towns and made sporadic turns. Unfortunately, my internal GPS naturally had me drive in boxes, and eventually I ended up right back where I started.
So I put on my thinking cap (which, by the way, is much too large for the surface it serves) and I tried to figure out how to pull off getting lost without it becoming manipulative but also having a spontaneous feel to it.
I came up with a simple concept:
Drive one mile, turn right, drive another mile, turn left, another mile, turn left again.
Then drive another mile, turn right, and repeat the process.
After about forty-five minutes of this endeavor, I ended up not knowing where I was.
To discover what crossroad would take me back to my destination, I just kept turning left. Then I saw something I recognized, and in no time at all, I was back at home with people who recognized me.
Honestly, I do not know if this is an actual plan of action, or even if it’s worth this small essay.
All I know about crossroads is that they offer you another direction.
The power of this? If you’re tired of where you’re going, you have the option of getting lost for a while, until you can find yourself again.