This very simple thing reminds me how much he offers in the very act of being with me.
|The silver flash.|
I turned and asked him if I was wearing my earrings. He shook his head. No earrings. Unsettled, but thinking I must have taken them off, we didn't connect any dots.
The dots connected when he stepped on one a few minutes later and came in to hand it to me. The earnest retracing of footsteps began.
We searched the house. I asked my guides for help but none was offered, a sign I need to work things out on my own. I asked him if he remembered me wearing them and the clearest memory was when I asked him about my earrings as I emptied the trash. No earrings at that time. So they were gone prior to trash duty. The one that turned up on the floor was at the spot where I removed the headband.
Without hesitation, he suggested we return to the park. In trying to sense it out, to feel a connection with the lost earring, the house felt empty but I couldn't locate a remote spot.
I remembered futzing with the hoodie and trying to get it positioned to keep the cold out of my coat and away from my neck. That would have loosened an earring and then picking up after the dog could have set it free... anywhere. I held out hope it would be easy to spot at the park. (In the dark.)
Trusty flashlights (his), we returned to retrace our steps. Thoroughly searching the parking lot where I put the headband on and the grass where I hovered above Jack and then retrieved his deposit, we came up empty.
The night air was crisp and the extra walk without the dogs stopping to sniff or explore as far as the leash will reach, then just a bit further, was nice. I was so very grateful that he offered to help me search for the earring (one I got with him at a jewelry show several years ago) without being asked.
I was on the verge of deciding it might be time to let go as sometimes things are lost for a reason when we came to the curve in the walkway. He turned to me and said he didn't think it would be beyond this point but we would keep looking. And then he found it. Resting square in the center of the pavement, turned up sideways, silver flashed in the light.
Astonished that it was so easy and thrilled that we were successful, I gave him a big hug and thanked him. (For being my friend/companion/husband/partner/finder of lost treasures.) In that moment I felt a deep appreciation for him and his willingness to quickly drop everything and return to the park in an attempt that could very well turn up nothing.
It was lost for a reason.
I now realize that insecurity and hesitation to trust when an item of importance vanishes stemmed - not from any action or attitude by him - rather from a childhood loss that had been long buried. The loss triggered awareness of what had been stuffed into a safe box to be released when the coast was no longer hostile.
There it was: vulnerability and a sense of being unworthy because I had lost something and, since I was at fault, the prized possession was deemed collateral damage. That hurt I didn't have words for has been in the box since I was about 7 when I accidentally dropped a doll overboard as the speedboat raced across the water.
She was my favorite doll but I can't remember her name. As I held her over the water, she was my emissary, my ambassador, my representative, letting me feel, through her, the wild and exotic lake water spray from my safe perch in the boat. And that no doubt happened in a variety of situations. She was a trusted ally and accomplice, my own version of Mini Me.
My Uncle was irritated, having warned me to keep everything in the boat. But she was my adventurer, fearless and invincible. She could feel the energy of the lake, the rush of the wind, the spray of the water and remain perfectly intact. And then she let go. My first experience with "slippery when wet".
Uncle stayed the course. Mother fumed that he had no empathy and would not have to endure the drama/trauma of a child who loses a treasure. I hurt. I stuffed it, angry at me, not him. What was the lesson? Who knows? It was from his childhood.
What I have grown to understand is the power in a ticking hurt and how they can flavor our interactions for a lifetime and be projected upon each and every encounter if we don't manage to trigger a release and set them free. Not always as we intend, our lessons.
Healing continues even now, a cascade of recovery in that small knowing. What a surprise!
While mentally reviewing and questioning the limitations in my intuitive sense in regard to locating my lost item, I was reminded of the "flash" that triggered a realization of something missing and given the insight that the necessity for this episode in finding lost objects was a refresher and much needed re-patterning in self worth and allowing support from outside resources and significant others.
What pressure is it simmering away on auto pilot that I constantly try to dismiss? The feeling of overwhelm in the false assumption that I am acting alone? I broke it alone = I must fix it alone? Don't get too attached to things? Darn persistent, this challenge. The illusion of separation fractures one's perspective.
The true reality is we are all connected in our relating lessons and some folks are more than happy to help while others, not so much. Learning is constant. Lessons are relative. It helps in partnerships of any kind to be connected to those who have that helping nature. I am glad my partner is one of those.
Curiously, that subtle flash as a trigger for learning is a pattern. This is enough to go into for now.
Finally, I am at a point in my life where I am in a partnership where it's okay to ask for help and to accept it when offered knowing the offer is genuine and unconditional and I am worthy.
I also trust I am not alone - even when I am determined to believe otherwise given that unique disposition offered by residing in a human vessel and/or the external visual presentation of a scene that resembles the complete lack of living form. I am not alone.
I learn with co-creators, seen and unseen. The guides said nothing because this exercise allowed me to heal a deep seeded childhood wound, to trust my very present human, life-partner to assist and, rather than compete to see who was the better finder of things (win/lose), let him be the Hero in the scene (win/win).
Lessons big and small. It's the little things that remind me to be truly grateful for the gifts of receiving and letting go. I have to admit - my journey still works best in baby steps.
And somewhere in an alternate Universe - my invincible doll friend is walking on water while my Uncle laughs in appreciation ... finally off the hook. Mother can forgive him. Through him we had lots of wonderful lake adventures - and I love water.
This is what partnerships do. We heal the fractured particles and the world flashes, bright and shiny once again. We can believe in happy endings. It starts in sharing, trusting, believing, caring, valuing, respecting, forgiving, honoring, creating safe havens and celebrating happy moments.