If you spend any time around me, you've probably seen my jade necklace, I wear it pretty often. It belonged to my grandmother (Betty) and is the only piece of her that I still have. I'm not a 'things' person, so when she passed and I helped my mom go through her things and put them away, I didn't take anything home - except this necklace. It's a red panda, and the color of the stone is a beautiful milky opacity. I find myself touching it during the day when I wear it, rubbing the smooth stone under my fingernail and feeling grounded in the earth, like a little calmness mascot around my neck.
I remember putting it on yesterday morning in my hurry, and yesterday's afternoon was pretty physical, tearing down the classroom and preparing for a practical round today that required me to move a lot of equipment... I know that the necklace was not around my neck last night because Reese and I took a photo. Well, I woke up a little late, and had packed some last night... but I realized the necklace was gone and spent the entire hour I had to get ready for work, frantically searching for the necklace. I racked my brain to retrace my steps yesterday. I probably covered the entire lab when I was prepping the room, so the places it could have fallen off are vast. The chain has one little sharp bit in the clasp, and I've always worried that it would break and I'd lose the irreplaceable pendant forever.
I like to think I live in the moment... enjoying this second is a special freedom that I allow myself. But this morning, when the necklace was gone, I chastised myself for wearing something I love so much and subjecting myself to the constant risk of losing it. I've told you before that my mom has this serigraph, done by Erte, that she won't hang in her house because it's so precious to her she doesn't want anything to happen to it (fire, theft, damage, etc)... I don't want to be that person, so I wear my little firefox often and enjoy it, and just hope that my subtle body can warn me if I'm endangering the last piece of Betty that I have - except for my cheekbones. I have dropped it before and physically felt it leave my energy space as a wave of panic washed over me. I was being overwhelmed by this panic now.
At this point, I've got to brush my teeth and pack up my suitcase so I won't hold everyone up, so I made one more sweep through the room and went downstairs heartbroken.
The last day of this program is pretty intensive, I do face-to-face evaluations all day. And now all I can think of is that my worst fears are realized, by living so 'in-the-moment', I've carelessly misplaced a necklace that I'll never find again. Crushing. The girls have been very supportive, helping me look around the lab, and thinking positive thoughts, Boss is really big on the power of positivity for helping you find/save/survive things. I dismantled my purse and work bag, and still no necklace.
A few hours into the day, hope started to creep back in. I called the hotel and left the housekeeper my number. I started letting myself off the hook a little and trying not to be so sick about it. I resolved that if I never see it again, it has made me very happy for the 7 years I've worn it. Countless compliments and polite conversations with folks in the supermarket line began because of the little panda. I used it as an amulet to beauty and finery, and used it as a touchstone for the grace Betty was known for.
I had spilled a bottle of water on my work bag this morning, and finally had enough strength to clean it up, so I took out the contents of the front pocket, all of which were soaked. My index cards were all ruined, my epipen was full of water and my jewerly bag was dripping. I emptied the contents on my desk, and among a tangle of necklaces and earrings, the little jade panda swam out of the mess. I have to learn to trust my process. I shouldn't have second-guessed my decision to wear it, I should have acknowledged its absence and been grateful for my time spent wearing it. And I should have looked in the damn jewelry bag first. It wasn't until I was reminded that it's a good thing to live in the moment that I was able to return to reality.
Doing a ton of yoga requires an adjustment period, where you bring up restlessness and 'junk' hanging out in your body. Until I can align myself properly to deal with stress, I'm kind of a mess. Opening your hips and lower back brings up relationship problems, opening your knees - the ego, opening toes and feet - problems with details. I just have to acknowledge this shit as it comes up, and let it go. I can't spend a beautiful Friday morning mourning the loss of something that isn't even lost. There's always hope.