Good Morning, Starshine,
The world says hello.
This morning something magical happened. You may not think it magical. On the surface, it's perhaps even pedantic. Still, I'm a believer in everyday magic.
When we moved this past summer, I misplaced my favorite necklace. After months of searching, I thought for sure it was gone for good. Then this morning, I opened the cabinet that I open about a hundred times a day and saw a red organza bag. I felt compelled to reach in, pick up the bag, and open it. Inside of the bag was a carved quartz cabochon we've had for many years, two big faceted Swarovski sew-on stones, one tiny blue ceramic tile, a few unused metal stamping blanks...and my missing necklace. It was a random bag of stuff that I do not recall seeing on that shelf before today.
Why today? Why after months and months of digging through boxes, bags, bins, and drawers would this necklace show up? Was it always there? How did I miss it?
Just a few days ago, I stood in that room and said to my husband, "Why is it the things we don't care about never seem to get lost? We stumble upon them over and over again in drawers and boxes and wonder why we still have them. Yet, the things that do matter disappear?"
Maybe it's because things don't matter and the nature of random is unpredictable and the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Why else would we lose one of each pair of socks and earrings?
I used to joke that when you die, you get a box. Inside of the box are all of the things you lost while you were alive. The box would be filled with keys, jewelry, other socks, tickets, important papers that seemed to have so much resonance when you were frantically looking for them...random things which would have no resonance at all once you were dead. This box would show you how absurd so much of that with which we concern ourselves is.
This necklace is not the most beautiful necklace, however it is a special necklace. On the necklace is a gathering of tiny charms. There's a tiny hand stamped sterling silver heart my husband and daughter gave me years ago for Mother's Day. It says, "mom" on it. I treasure this charm. There is also a 1943 Mercury dime that I found in my washer right after my grandmother died, which I cherish because it's a connection to her. I added a tiny rhinestone encrusted horseshoe, a larger rhinestone, and a horseshoe charm that I hand stamped. I made this necklace as a talisman last year, and wore it regularly.
Last week I finally gave up looking for the necklace. I asked out loud while standing next to that cabinet that it be returned to me, and then I let it go. I cried a little, because even though it's just a necklace, it represented something deeper. Even though I don't believe in luck, I do believe in love. Even though things are not love, they can be symbols of love and that's powerful.
We live in a material world, but I am not a material girl. As I get older, I find myself feeling less and less attached to material things. I just don't want a lot of stuff anymore. I also have been thinking about my footprint physically and digitally and how that could become a burden after I pass through the veil. Moving 32 times makes one feel more intimately acquainted with their detritus. Every time we move we jettison more stuff, yet whenever I assess our stuff I feel as if it's expanded while I wasn't looking. Perhaps my perspective keeps changing, because we keep getting rid of stuff.
As I let go of more stuff, I feel happier.
As I let go of things that are weighing me down and holding me back, I make room for experiences that will lift me up and propel me forward. I feel lighter and more flexible. Still, there are a scant few things that I am not ready to release into the great cosmic dust bin. So, thank you, elf or fairy or sprite or whomever it was that put my favorite necklace back in my path this morning.
You may not think that it was magical, finding this necklace today. That's okay. I think it's magical. I'm a believer in everyday magic.
It's the little things that matter most, and when you have less, you grow to appreciate what you have even more.