I'm not always mindful.
This time it was a pair of beautiful Don Lucas Turquoise earrings. I bought them with "summer camp" money some time in the early-nineties. I worked at Brush Ranch Camps with the Lucas clan and he is a beloved jeweler from Bakersfield, California with an outpost in Santa Fe.
Those earrings are a treasure. They represent independence, friendship, the joy of summer in the Sangre de Cristos. About three weeks ago as I tidied up my jewelry box it occurred to me that they were not in the "Turquoise Section". This awareness happened at the same time I was working on a very complex project at work and The Missing Earrings became my object of fixation.
I tried mindfulness. I tried to calm the worry I'd thrown them away accidentally or carelessly left them on one of my many trips. Rationally I knew they had to be in the house. So I started looking. Thrice over through the drawers under the jewelry box; the closet; under the bed; the kitchen, even every pocket I could find in my closet. I searched the car: unfortunately a popular place to take off clip-on earrings for phone calls. No luck.
I called my Mother. I have a secret wish all the things I've ever lost are with her: she's put them away for later, for a time when I might be old enough to stop losing things. I imagined opening up the safe years from now and finding those--well she may be reading this so I won't mention what I cannot find. She laughed. Calling the farm to ask if lost items are there happens with some...pattern.
The next morning while driving into work, it wasn't my iPhone that distracted me or the radio: it was the earrings. I was digging in the coin tray below the steering wheel on Lakewood Blvd. praying they were right there under a quarter. I was jolted out of that activity by the curb meeting my front tire and then the back once I corrected the wheel. I'm really lucky I didn't pop the tires. Or hit a parked car. Or a person. I drove down Ross Avenue imagining the increased cost of lost earrings + two tires + a possible new set of hubcaps. Or a life. Not worth it.
I went on to work and reminded myself to breathe. I imagined how happy the new owner might be to have them, or that, despite my 100% (nearly house scan) they would come back to me, falling out of a shoe. It's happened. I told people at work I'd lost them: I've heard if you're missing something tell someone. They remained missing. I went through the drawers again when I got home. And the glove box of the car.
Today, three weeks later, I went looking for something else: a string of beads needing to be re-strung placed in the front closet with two other items due for repair. And there in the corner of the box was a little bag with two perfectly luminous Don Lucas Turquoise earrings inside. I leapt with joy. In my heart I was back at camp staring at those beauties: the color of the sky on the best days in New Mexico. Back with the feeling of owning something very special. Laughing at myself for the attachment lesson I missed in all of this: after all these are just things.
What is the lesson of "lost and found"? Be more minimal? Create new rigorous practices of care for objects one loves? Give my good jewelry to my mother to put away for safe keeping (that's what she would say.). I guess it's all of these and many things. Slow down. Don't look for things in coin boxes while driving. Find peace in trusting they were right where I would find them. I'll work on it a little more and if you see me wearing my Don Lucas Beauties know that I am very, very happy.
This time it was a pair of beautiful Don Lucas Turquoise earrings. I bought them with "summer camp" money some time in the early-nineties. I worked at Brush Ranch Camps with the Lucas clan and he is a beloved jeweler from Bakersfield, California with an outpost in Santa Fe.
Those earrings are a treasure. They represent independence, friendship, the joy of summer in the Sangre de Cristos. About three weeks ago as I tidied up my jewelry box it occurred to me that they were not in the "Turquoise Section". This awareness happened at the same time I was working on a very complex project at work and The Missing Earrings became my object of fixation.
I tried mindfulness. I tried to calm the worry I'd thrown them away accidentally or carelessly left them on one of my many trips. Rationally I knew they had to be in the house. So I started looking. Thrice over through the drawers under the jewelry box; the closet; under the bed; the kitchen, even every pocket I could find in my closet. I searched the car: unfortunately a popular place to take off clip-on earrings for phone calls. No luck.
I called my Mother. I have a secret wish all the things I've ever lost are with her: she's put them away for later, for a time when I might be old enough to stop losing things. I imagined opening up the safe years from now and finding those--well she may be reading this so I won't mention what I cannot find. She laughed. Calling the farm to ask if lost items are there happens with some...pattern.
The next morning while driving into work, it wasn't my iPhone that distracted me or the radio: it was the earrings. I was digging in the coin tray below the steering wheel on Lakewood Blvd. praying they were right there under a quarter. I was jolted out of that activity by the curb meeting my front tire and then the back once I corrected the wheel. I'm really lucky I didn't pop the tires. Or hit a parked car. Or a person. I drove down Ross Avenue imagining the increased cost of lost earrings + two tires + a possible new set of hubcaps. Or a life. Not worth it.
I went on to work and reminded myself to breathe. I imagined how happy the new owner might be to have them, or that, despite my 100% (nearly house scan) they would come back to me, falling out of a shoe. It's happened. I told people at work I'd lost them: I've heard if you're missing something tell someone. They remained missing. I went through the drawers again when I got home. And the glove box of the car.
Today, three weeks later, I went looking for something else: a string of beads needing to be re-strung placed in the front closet with two other items due for repair. And there in the corner of the box was a little bag with two perfectly luminous Don Lucas Turquoise earrings inside. I leapt with joy. In my heart I was back at camp staring at those beauties: the color of the sky on the best days in New Mexico. Back with the feeling of owning something very special. Laughing at myself for the attachment lesson I missed in all of this: after all these are just things.
What is the lesson of "lost and found"? Be more minimal? Create new rigorous practices of care for objects one loves? Give my good jewelry to my mother to put away for safe keeping (that's what she would say.). I guess it's all of these and many things. Slow down. Don't look for things in coin boxes while driving. Find peace in trusting they were right where I would find them. I'll work on it a little more and if you see me wearing my Don Lucas Beauties know that I am very, very happy.
