I recently came across this phrase while researching something completely unrelated. I scanned past it to find what I was looking for, but my thumb strayed to hold the page, and I was drawn back to it; "something lost, something found." I ruminated over it for some time after that; days and weeks. I jotted it down in my journal to return to later. Something about it got my brain turning. This morning, I finally challenged myself to write about it.
Something Lost
I’ve lost many things in my life. Ordinary, everyday things like paperwork, water bottles, and car keys. I’ve lost tons of earrings, although there are two memorable lost and found earring stories; one lost in the snow and recovered the following spring in the muddy driveway, and the other time an earring presumed gone, and as soon as I threw away its mate, found the first one in a jacket pocket. I’ve lost people. Friends died in high school, friends in college, car accidents, accidental shootings, shootings on purpose, a house fire where I lost two friends on the same night. I lost an uncle, then another, my grandmother, my grandfather, and many pets. I’ve lost my mind then found it again, lost weight, then regained it, got lost in the woods, lost on the highway in the middle of the night, and lost money gambling more times than I can count. But none of these losses are the kind that really matter. Yes, losing a loved one is devastating, and people who we lose along the way can have a profound effect on us. But recently, I lost some things that have fundamentally changed who I am.
This year I lost a very sizable amount of inhibition. Perhaps it has been eroding slowly over time, or perhaps a big chunk of it broke off suddenly, like those giant pieces of glaciers the size of Texas that crumble off of Antarctica, but either way, it’s gone. Leaving my teaching job may have had a lot to do with that; being a teacher means never being allowed to really be yourself. I wore that facade for nearly fifteen years, until I had almost lost myself in it. Perhaps living through a pandemic loosened the glue, and reorganized my priorities to include myself for the first time in a long time. No matter what the cause, I find the effect quite enjoyable. I wear what I want, buy what I want, sing and dance when I want, swear and laugh loudly, choose where I go and when, and live openly, with all of my strangeness and magic fully on display for all to see. I speak my truth. I say who I am and judgement be damned.
A couple of years ago, I was sitting at my desk at work and a coworker, a young first-year teacher, observed the Buddha statue on my desk and the mala I wore around my wrist, and he asked me, casually, “Are you Buddhist?” I don’t know if I have ever been so caught off guard in my life. I know my face went red and I know I stuttered. I am fairly sure I muttered “no” and then a long, mostly unintelligible explanation. I can’t imagine what his impression must have been. After he left, I was so ashamed. I had been practicing Buddhism for years. I had spent weeks each year at a Buddhist retreat center. I meditated daily. I adhered to the four noble truths and the eightfold path. I was clearly practicing Buddhism. Why was I not able to say out loud that I was Buddhist? Did I fear judgement or some type of prosecution? Either way, that memory stands out vividly in my mind as a time when I should have spoken my truth but did not. I am still ashamed of it to this day.
Now, on my social media bio, I proudly describe myself as “Mom, wife, yoga teacher, paleo, country girl, poet, prepper, Buddhist witch.” Walk through my house and you’ll find a Buddha statue in every room, crystals, incense, feathers, and moon mirrors, tarot cards, dried herbs, books about chakras, and spell candles. All of those secret, special things I had been keeping in a trunk in my bedroom are on full display, and I don’t put them away when guests are coming. I’ve realized that I am who I have always been, and that I am no longer willing to pretend to be otherwise. Dammit, I was reading tarot cards and burning incense in high school! The fact that I thought growing up meant I had to stifle myself, fit myself into some kind of patriarchal, capitalistic mold in order to be worthy of respect… looking back, I recognize that as insanity. So, I apologize ahead of time to my family, but I don’t think inhibition grows back; mine may be gone for good! But I promise you, I am a better, healthier, happier person for it, and I think that will make those around me happier as well.
Something Found
When I was growing up, I remember spending countless hours with the neighborhood kids digging around inside of an old stone foundation out in the woods for what we called “shards.” We would find bits of broken pottery, old metal parts and pieces, and other flotsam and jetsam of the forest. These were precious finds, kept in jars and boxes or lined up on windowsills. Last year, out hunting, I found a Deering Fish and Game Club pin from 1956. Even weathered and worn, you can clearly make out the wording and the image of a pheasant in flight on the small plastic disc. I’ve found abandoned vehicles far out in the woods, and creepy things, like that patch of forest where my high school friend Jessie and I found a bunch of plastic doll heads hanging from trees. Once, I found a cute, small dog wandering on our street and put him inside my car, thinking to get him out of the cold while I looked for his owners. He killed five of my chickens while I was out knocking on doors. One summer in Cape Cod, diving below the waves with my bright green goggles on, I found a mostly intact conch shell; I had to virtually fight to the death with my siblings and cousins to maintain possession of this treasure for the duration of our vacation. I’ve never found a large sum of money, or a diamond ring on the beach. I’ve never found anything worth any money, actually. For the most part, my history of finding objects has always been more about the experience than the thing.
However. I found the love of my life. Or, maybe he found me. Either way, it’s the greatest find there is, and I consider myself so lucky to still have it after all these years. I found my tribe. It took me forty years to find real friends, and now that I have them I marvel every day at the difference from previous friendships, which were often wrought with jealousy, competition, and hurt. I found these friendships when I least expected them, making the discovery all the more thrilling and wonderful. I found my path; opening the yoga studio, teaching and learning from my miraculous students every day, growing and awakening. For the first time in my life I am doing a job that is fully and completely chosen by my heart, rather than by logic, practicality, guilt, or a sense of responsibility. I’ve found self confidence, peace, health, strength, and contentment (even when my grasp on them is tenuous at times). You can't discount these finds simply because they are not worth money; they are invaluable and they cost me a lot.
With the holidays looming, I’ve had to consider “what do I want for Christmas?” I don’t have any huge expectations each year, being too old for toys and having the ability to buy wherever I want for myself. But my husband and I still like to surprise each other with a few things. I am struggling with what I “want,” though. Because I don’t want anything. I have found everything I need and everything I want already. There’s a song by The Avett Brothers called “Untitled #4,” that goes:
“It don't matter where I'm at
'Cause I'm happy being me the most
When I let what makes me happy go
And I finally learned what I need to know
I am happier with nothing.”
As it turns out, you can find all of the most beautiful things in life when you stop wanting, looking, searching, and hoping and just let go. I choose to find beauty in what is right in front of me; to find what I need within myself. I mourn my losses and then release them to make room for my next discovery. I release that which no longer serves me, knowing that the cycle of finding and losing is a part of my journey. And I will appreciate my losses as much as my findings, because they, too, are powerful and have much to teach me. At a time of the year when we often find ourselves wanting and wishing, take a moment to appreciate all you have lost and all that you have found.
Beautiful put!