On day four of this June writing class we wrote about losing something. Today we’re writing about finding something. It was to be a trilogy. Here’s part two:
I could talk a lot about finding misplaced things, some of them even funny. Like finding my neighbor’s lost contact lens in a two or three-inch think lawn. A number of us poking around the front yard as Gordon the lens guy sat nattily dressed on the porch. A few minutes in to what seemed a ridiculous task, I threw up my hands to the great Oz.
“So Oz, I have to go, what do you want me to do?” Amazingly I found myself up on the porch discovering the lens hiding under Gordon’s eyelid!
And then there’s my lost credit card, gone well past the judicious time to report it missing. But I was sure Oz would come through and finally it turned up in a tiny crevice I’d checked many times before.
But I’m remembering what one of my most beloved spiritual mentors, a Welsh-Canadian poet taught us, to always be willing to be surprised. What I call letting Life live me instead of struggling with my own limited plans. As hinted in my first installment, contrarian that I am “loss and found” feels better for me if viewed as change, as Discovery. They don’t tell us as children that life will always be letting go of one thing and opening up to something new, sometimes tragically, and sometimes as a natural course of events, as for the recent crop of graduates going out into a new world. Of course tragic loss is much more painful, but it helps me to consider that perhaps the people or things I’ve been separated from have given me all they were meant to give.
Right now I seem to be experiencing a lot of change but uncomfortable as it is, I know from experience it’s some kind of transition, making room for the new, as it’s always been for me growing up in the military. A lot of kids felt deprived by these moves, I was anxious to see what came next. Discovery, losing and finding has been for me about self, about learning to trust the universal Self and Its plan for me. Changing perspective as the clip below suggests in a different way.
After college I wanted to leave the familiarity and security of my hometown in Florida, my family and friends who loved me, connections to the known to fulfill a dream of living in New York City! My parents were understandably against it, their naïve little girl in sin city. But it felt right for some reason. I had no plan and truly not enough street sense to plop myself down in there alone, so I sat still for a while and waited. Et voila, Oz intervened and a casual acquaintance two years ahead of me in college suddenly needed a new roommate.
Expecting to be surprised!
It was one of the best moves I ever made, exhilarating, terrifying, enlarging. And when I’d gotten familiar with that and seemed to be at a standstill Oz intervened again and literally moved me to a place I’m embarrassed to say I’d barely heard of back then, Montreal, Canada. An even better move! Within a week of leaving my posh Park Avenue job and landing at Dorval Airport, I had an apartment, one of the best jobs ever, and permanent residency. Oz knows best! Losing the familiar, finding the new.
A friend and I were headed to lunch recently, to one of the same old places. I’d read about a new place, very new, just opening and so maybe not up to standard yet. We decided to wait. But on the way to the tried and true, an impulse grabbed me and we decided to test out the new. What a treat. A delightful time talking with the manager, a very bright, attractive young woman with a strong Polish accent that my Polish friend didn’t pick up! Long talks about Europe, life, and her boyfriend, the restaurant owner! We were also well attended to by the funny and flirtatious bartender, doubling as waiter, given tips about the restaurant scene around town, and even asked for our advice on the decorations.
Who knew!?! And the surprises continued the rest of the day as we let go of the familiar, the safe and embraced the new. The key for me isn’t a lot of determination or courage, but learning to lean in to that Voice within, my wiser guide.
And then to listen, and leap.