- Last week I was interviewed on WBOM radio by InPrint Writers in Rockford. It may be listened to on YouTube and may be found here. Topics range through healing, meditation, and the creative process. Here are two links for meditation practices I discuss in the interview, Meditation For The Squirrel Brain and 10-Minute Time Out For Stressful Moments.
- I've found that music lyrics are a way to begin to discern a healing path for broken and lost things. Here is a link to one that I've found helpful. More Than Life by Whitley.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Broken & Lost Things
Over the past few days, I’ve shattered a plate and two glasses and maimed the dishwasher. The items slipped from my fingers or jet-propelled themselves mysteriously onto the floor, the dishwasher merely collateral damage from flying glass shards finagling their way into the story. Yesterday, I compiled the totality of destruction, after sweeping up, vacuuming, and scheduling a repairman.
As an exclamation point to a life run amok, the keys to my office vanish. They do this when I am in need of a certificate in my files to renew the letters after my name, signifying to strangers I know what I’m doing.
That’s hilarious today.
No, it isn’t.
To game myself into finding the keys I announce that I do not have to go to the office.
There’s still a couple of weeks before they kick us out of the letter club.
Within minutes, I remember there is another pocket in my purse, it having disappeared from my understanding for over two hours for no reason at all. The keys are exactly where they always are. This spontaneous discovery of lost things must be similar to what happens when an unleashed memory appears with taste, smells, and feelings attached.
Today, a decades-old experience rolled in like a swell in the deepest part of the ocean, consuming the sight line until the only thing visible was an ice cream cone. It might have been the three-year-old I saw as I waited in line, his eyes glancing momentarily at me while the rest of him focused on the angle of his mouth circling his vanilla ice cream. Or it was one of those random moments that are embedded in a taste bud and the essence comes to the surface when it sees itself in a mirror. However it happened, I saw her. I saw me at three or maybe four, little black shoes swinging on my feet, an ice cream cone the most important thing in the world.
Lost things can be found, and what is broken may be glued if all the pieces are collected, and they are patiently held in place. At least that’s the working theory.