Foreign cities

I stumbled across this idea the other day. How we so often experience things as if we were lost in a foreign city and no one can speak your language.

Or even if they can which happened to me once. I was in a taxi in Joburg completely dependent on the driver who was literally taking me for a ride. I was stuck, watching the metre, having absolutely no idea of any landmark and still I had to put my trust in him. It was only later that I realised that he had done a circuitous route to fleece me. I felt rinsed.

Being stuck is like being in a taxi in a foreign city at the mercy of the driver. It does not make you feel good. It has got me thinking about how we can work on being comfortable with being stuck or lost or being at the mercy of someone whose integrity is deplorable.

I have to say, I want to fight the feeling. Rage at it. Shout out at it. But this doesn’t work.

If we are lost or stuck or at the mercy of the unsavoury we need to find other ways. Wise people who know the environment, know the language and are savvy. A guide. A Trip Advisor. A Sherpa. Someone who has been there before.

Not to rescue us but to guide us.

Here’s the thing. I have been lost in a foreign city and I am not meaning the one with the mad taxi driver. The one where the soul, the inner core is brittle and scattered and I tried to find myself on my own. I became even more lost.

 

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