It turned up in the morning

May 6, 2014

I was looking for something last night, an oval polished stone disc on which is lightly carved someone or other.  I had put it in my pocket yesterday before I went out walking to pick up my car at the service station and go food shopping. The disc wasn’t in my pocket when I started emptying them out before I got ready to go to bed.

My jeans have shallow pockets, I also fidget with things while I am on the phone, and I know myself to put things down somewhere without focusing on what I am doing.  So it could have fallen out of my pocket, especially in my car, I could have put it down somewhere in my house, I could have left it on a counter somewhere (less likely — out of the house, I tend to leave such things in my pocket) — many possibilities.

I looked around the house to find it, using my best thinking and recollection.  For example, where do I stand when I am on the phone with my mother?  I looked on the horizontal surfaces in that area.  Where was I in Jordan’s room when we were talking, and did I put the object down on his bureau when I handed him an object from his bureau?  When I came back from an errand last night, did I put it down on my bed along with some other items?  I even patted the patterned coverlet on the bed, in addition to looking at the fabric from an angle in case that would make the object more visible to me.

It was late, I went around the house turning on lights and looking in different rooms.  I thought about how it would feel if I had actually lost the disc outside the house.  I thought about what I would make of it if I had, how I would interpret it.  (I thought about the rules I’ve come up with for myself about putting down my glasses — I limit myself to a couple of particular places to leave them when I take them off.)  I didn’t feel moved to go out to the car and look.  I figured that if it was in the house, eventually I would come across it.

I did think about why I wasn’t asking for help in finding the thing, and eventually I did pray on it, let it go, and go to bed.

In the morning, there it was, on the other side of the bed, on the coverlet.  My eye was drawn directly to it.

I’ve put the disc back where I had had it, on my night table, before I put it in my pocket yesterday.

I haven’t decided whether to carry it around with me again.

I also don’t have a clear idea of how to interpret the experience.  I figure it will eventually come to me, what to make of it — random middle-aged distraction or a reflection of something else perhaps.  My inclination at this point is to see it as saying something about risk aversion.

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