Old Maps No Longer Work

I have always loved maps, especially antique ones. I love the colors and the geometry of them. As a child I used to marvel at how one could ‘accurately’ make a map of the United States not to mention the world! To me maps are first creative artistic representations and second instructive. They are starting points for trips to take and never replacements for intuition and a sense of being in the world, for longings and places that are calling to me. One of my favorite things to do is to just start with some map-like rendering and then begin, to walk or drive, using the map as a check against absolute loss and less a guide to a destination.

Maps have become a metaphor for certain rules and measurements to accomplish predetermined travel. Exactly how to get from here to there. But in a world of uncertainty and newly imagined spaces to come, maps become at worst minimal tools of decision and at best blurred approximations. 

When I was going through a different period of discernment in my life, I was intrigued and inspired by the poem Old Maps No Longer Word by Joyce Rupp and in  this time when there are few if any coincidences, it fell out of my journals yesterday. I paid attention remembering Mary Oliver’s instructions of what to do when surprised! 

In this time of COVID when we are on the verge of reopening and regathering albeit with new protocols and still imposed boundaries, I am keenly aware that we have no maps, no instructions, no measured plans. We instead are to heed the command to “throw away the old maps” and to trust and wait for the whisper some know as the still small voice. We will become like the wise people following a star to guide them. We will look up more than down and we will align our footsteps with the path of the Way to lead us out of darkness into light. Enjoy: 

Old Maps No Longer Work

I keep pulling it out -
the old map of my inner path.
I squint closely at it,
trying to see some hidden road
that maybe I’ve missed,
but there’s nothing there now
except some well-traveled paths.
they have seen my footsteps often,
held my laughter, caught my tears.

I keep going over the old map
but now the roads lead nowhere,
a meaningless wilderness
where life is dull and futile.

“toss away the old map,” she says
“you must be kidding!” I reply.
she looks at me with Sarah eyes
and repeats, “toss it away.
it’s of no use where you’re going.”

“I have to have a map!” I cry,
“even if it takes me nowhere.
I can’t be without direction.”
“but you are without direction,”
she says, “so why not let go, be free?”

so there I am – tossing away the old map,
sadly fearfully, putting it behind me.
“whatever will I do?” wails my security
“trust me” says my midlife soul.

no map, no specific directions,
no “this way ahead” or “take a left”.
how will I know where to go?
how will I find my way? no map!
but then my midlife soul whispers:
“there was a time before maps
when pilgrims traveled by the stars.”

It is time for the pilgrim in me
to travel in the dark,
to learn to read the stars
that shine in my soul.
I will walk deeper
into the dark of my night.
I will wait for the stars.
trust their guidance.
and let their light be enough for me.

Joyce Rupp OSM