I like the map feature on the iPhone that tells me where I am

Hear the voice of Gary Shteyngart, writer and traveler, who spoke with humor yet with hidden depth: “I like the map feature on the iPhone that tells me where I am, because I travel a lot.” At first, these words appear simple, even casual, but beneath them lies a profound truth about the human condition: that we are wanderers, often lost in the vastness of life, and that we hunger for tools—whether maps, wisdom, or inner clarity—that remind us of our place in the world. What Shteyngart says of travel in space, the ancients would say of travel in spirit: we need guides to know where we stand.

The map is more than a piece of technology; it is a symbol of orientation, of grounding, of the eternal human longing to know not only where we are going, but where we are now. For without knowing our place, we cannot set a course. Shteyngart’s delight in this simple feature speaks to a deeper yearning: in the rush of journeys, in the confusion of foreign streets, there is comfort in clarity, in a small voice that says, “You are here.” And is this not the cry of every soul—to know where it stands in the labyrinth of life?

The iPhone, modern as it is, becomes in his words a successor to the ancient compass, the star-charts, and the wisdom of navigators. Long before glowing screens, men lifted their eyes to the heavens, following the North Star or the constellations across seas. So too, pilgrims traced maps etched on parchment, each line a lifeline to the unknown. What Shteyngart celebrates is not merely convenience—it is the continuation of humanity’s ancient tradition of seeking guidance, of using tools to transform chaos into direction, uncertainty into confidence.

History gives us vivid testimony. Consider the voyages of Magellan, who sailed into oceans no European had mapped, guided only by stars and uncertain charts. His men were often lost, fearful, disoriented on seas with no end. How they would have rejoiced at a device that whispered certainty: “Here you are.” Yet even without such tools, they pushed forward, proving that the human spirit will always seek to orient itself, to know its position, to find meaning in the vast unknown. Shteyngart’s laughter at his own dependence reveals the same truth: that even the boldest traveler needs grounding.

Yet the words also whisper of the inner journey. For are we not all travelers, wandering through the corridors of time? How often do we not know where we stand in life—caught between the past and the future, uncertain of our direction? If only, we sigh, there were a map for the soul, a glowing feature that could say: “Here is your heart. Here is your path.” In this, Shteyngart’s quote becomes parable. It points us to the wisdom that while technology may guide our feet, only reflection, truth, and self-knowledge can guide our spirit.

The lesson is profound: seek your orientation daily. Do not wander aimlessly, whether in the streets of cities or in the journey of the soul. Use the tools you are given—books, teachers, mentors, faith, inner silence—as your maps. Just as Shteyngart finds comfort in knowing where he is, so too must we find comfort in knowing who we are and where we stand in life’s journey. Only then can we move forward with clarity, rather than drift lost in the fog of confusion.

Practical wisdom follows: when you travel, do not only look for the street you must walk or the train you must catch. Ask yourself also: “Where am I in my life? What is my position in my journey? Am I moving with intention, or merely wandering?” Keep a journal as your map. Reflect on your choices as your compass. And above all, seek the still voice within, which, like the map feature, will whisper: “You are here.”

So let Shteyngart’s words, though spoken lightly, be received with depth: “I like the map feature… it tells me where I am, because I travel a lot.” For in truth, we all travel, through lands, through years, through joys and sorrows. Blessed is the one who does not wander blindly, but who seeks guidance, who knows their place, and who walks forward with awareness. For then every journey, whether across oceans or through the chambers of the soul, becomes not confusion, but adventure, not exile, but homecoming.