The Treasure Map of Grief
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Why did pirates make treasure maps?
Hollywood would have us believe they drew them so someone else could search for buried treasure. But the real purpose of a treasure map was far more practical. It was a record of where something valuable had been intentionally placed so that it could be found again. The X did not mark loss; it marked value. The map was the key. Lose the treasure and you could still recover it if you had the map. Lose the map, however, and even the greatest treasure could remain out of reach.
In many ways, grief works like that.
Most of us associate grief with death. We think of funerals, tragedy and life-changing events. Yet grief quietly accompanies us through ordinary life far more often than we realise. It appears when a business deal falls through, a friendship changes, a dream fades, our children grow up, our health changes, or life simply refuses to follow the script we had carefully written.
We call it stress. We call it disappointment. We call it burnout. Sometimes we simply tell ourselves to keep going.
But we are The Everyday Mavericks. We try to understand life in ways that are useful, practical and life-giving. Instead of merely reacting to our experiences, we seek to frame them in ways that help us grow. So perhaps it is worth asking a different question.
What if many of the things we call stress are actually grief?
Grief is the natural emotional, neurological and biological process we undergo when we experience the loss of someone or something meaningful. More than mourning the past, grief is often our response to the future we imagined suddenly becoming unavailable to us.
That future may involve a loved one, but it may also involve a business, a relationship, our health, our reputation, our finances, or even a version of ourselves we believed we were becoming.
As leaders, entrepreneurs, parents and ordinary people trying to do our best, we're often taught to move quickly. Solve the next problem. Chase the next opportunity. Carry the next responsibility. There is wisdom in perseverance, but there is also wisdom in recognising when we've been carrying something for too long.
That thought led me to an unusual image.
Perhaps grief is like a pirate's treasure map.
Not the treasure map someone discovers in an old bottle, but the one carefully drawn throughout the voyage. Each X marks a place where something valuable has been intentionally placed so that the sailor can one day return. The treasure has not been forgotten. It has been remembered.
Perhaps our lives work in much the same way.
Every meaningful loss places an X on our map.
At first, we assume the X marks the place where life took something from us. Yet with time we may discover that it also marks the place where life placed something within us.
A failed business may become the place where resilience was forged.
A difficult season may become the place where wisdom took root.
A broken relationship may become the place where compassion deepened.
A painful disappointment may become the place where clearer priorities emerged.
The pain is real, and the loss is real. Neither should be ignored or minimised. But neither is the whole story.
The treasure map itself is precious. In some ways it reminds me of the PIN number to a bank account. The money isn't in the PIN, yet without it you cannot access what has been entrusted to you. Likewise, the power of grief is not found in endlessly revisiting painful memories. Its value lies in helping us remember where life's greatest treasures have been placed, so that we can return to them when we need them most.
The Chest Was Never Meant to Be Carried Forever
Imagine a treasure chest overflowing with gold, jewels and precious artefacts. Its value is undeniable, but so is its weight.
No captain would load every treasure chest onto every voyage. The very thing that makes it valuable also makes it too heavy to carry everywhere. A wise sailor places the treasure somewhere safe, marks its location carefully, folds the map, and continues the journey.
Perhaps that's true of our experiences as well.
The lessons, the memories, the disappointments, the victories, the heartbreak and the wisdom are all precious. Yet if we insist on carrying the full weight of every experience every day, eventually our journey becomes slower, heavier and more exhausting than it needs to be.
Perhaps the goal is not to carry the chest.
Perhaps the goal is to know where we have placed it.
The map gives us freedom.
Making Withdrawals
Life has a remarkable way of bringing us back to familiar waters.
Another disappointment.
Another difficult conversation.
Another financial setback.
Another season of uncertainty.
When those moments arrive, we don't begin from nothing. We unfold the map and return to an earlier X. Not to relive the pain or reopen old wounds, but to make a withdrawal.
This time we withdraw courage.
Next time we withdraw patience.
On another occasion we withdraw resilience, compassion or perspective.
The experience remains where it belongs, yet the treasure it produced continues to strengthen us. We don't keep carrying the entire chest through life; we simply return whenever we need to draw from what was placed there.
Placing the Treasure
Of course, treasure cannot be placed if we pretend it never existed.
This is where grief quietly does its work.
It invites us to stop running long enough to acknowledge what has happened. To admit that something mattered. To recognise that something hurts. It gives us permission to feel sadness, disappointment, frustration, anger or confusion without believing those emotions define us.
Feelings are visitors. They deserve to be acknowledged, but they were never meant to become permanent residents.
A healthy grieving process allows those emotions to move through us. We don't deny them, and we don't build our home in them. We simply give them the space they need to do their work.
Gradually, acceptance begins to emerge.
Acceptance doesn't say, "I'm glad this happened."
It simply says, "This happened. I cannot change it. But I can choose what I carry forward."
That is the moment we place the treasure.
We mark the X.
We fold the map.
We step back onto the deck.
And with the wind in our sails, we continue the voyage—knowing that whenever we need wisdom, courage or hope, we know exactly where to return.
Learning to Read Other People's Maps
Perhaps the greatest gift this perspective offers isn't what it teaches us about ourselves.
It's what it teaches us about one another.
Every person you meet has lived experiences you know nothing about. Every person has celebrated victories, endured disappointments, buried dreams, survived failures and navigated storms that have shaped who they are today. Those experiences have left their mark, whether we can see them or not.
It is only when someone unfolds their map and invites us to look that we begin to understand the journey that brought them here.
Perhaps that impatient colleague is navigating a season of grief.
Perhaps that unusually quiet friend is mourning a future that will never be.
Perhaps the exhausted parent, the struggling entrepreneur, or the leader who suddenly seems withdrawn isn't simply having a bad day. They may be trying to find a safe place to set down a treasure chest that has become too heavy to carry.
We rarely know the whole story.
That is why empathy matters.
Not because we always have the answers, but because we recognise that every person is carrying experiences we have never seen.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer isn't advice.
It's understanding.
It's patience.
It's choosing curiosity over judgement.
It's creating enough safety for someone to unfold their map, point to an X, and simply say, "This is where life changed."
And perhaps, in time, we have the courage to unfold our own map as well.
There is something deeply human about sharing our journeys. When we tell our stories honestly, we don't simply revisit the places where life hurt us. We invite others to discover the wisdom, resilience, courage and hope that those places produced. In doing so, our maps become more than personal records; they become guides that encourage fellow travellers on their own journeys.
Keep Sailing
One of the things I love most about a treasure map is that it is never finished.
Every voyage adds another landmark.
Another lesson.
Another X.
Life keeps inviting us to explore new waters, to lead, to build, to love, to create and, when necessary, to begin again.
The ship was never designed to become a floating warehouse for treasure.
It was built to sail.
Likewise, we were never created to spend our lives carrying every hurt, every disappointment and every loss on our backs. Some things need to be acknowledged. Some things need to be grieved. Some things need to be carefully placed, marked with an X, and entrusted to the map so that we can return to them when the time is right.
The treasure remains.
The map remembers.
And the voyage continues.
Dear Mavericks, remember this: grief is the natural emotional, neurological and biological process we undergo when we experience the loss of someone or something meaningful. More than mourning the past, grief is often our response to the future we imagined suddenly becoming unavailable to us.
We experience this far more often than we realise.
The more aware we become of grief in our own lives, the more patient we become with ourselves. The more aware we become of grief in the lives of others, the more compassionate we become towards them.
Perhaps one of the marks of maturity is learning to recognise the weight someone else is carrying without demanding that they explain it.
Sometimes all they need is someone who says,
"I see you."
Sometimes all they need is the quiet assurance that, when they're ready, you'll sit beside them while they unfold their map.
The next time life leaves an X on your journey, don't ask only,
"What have I lost?"
Ask another question.
"What has life placed here that one day may become one of my greatest treasures?"
Then, when the time is right, place the treasure with care.
Mark the location.
Fold the map.
Step back aboard.
Raise the sails.
And continue the voyage.
Because life is still calling you forward.
Moving Forward
Live curiously.
Lead courageously.
Life is worth living.
The Everyday Mavericks keep moving forward with intention.
Shalom.
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Read: The Disco Ball Life: Learning to See Goodness, Kindness, and Gentleness
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