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Searching and Loss
I just drove over to Capitol Hill, parked, and retraced my steps of last night. I even stopped in the bead shop on the route in the slim chance that someone who picked it up might have turned it in there.
I went to the restaurant too - even though they've told me twice it wasn't there. But I had to look for myself. The room where we'd been sitting had been completely rearranged. It wasn't there. I suspect it's in a vacuum cleaner bag somewhere.
I guess I didn't really expect to find it, but once I thought about coming back I could not not do it.
As I drove, I thought about the hematite ring I'd broken. I thought about my stolen wedding ring, and how if I were given the chance and the choice I'd take Lohain's strand (or the $2 hematite ring) over several thousand dollars worth of diamonds and gold.
And then I thought of Ereshkigal, and the way She demands that we strip things away, leave them behind as we descend.
I want my strand back. I got tears in my eyes as I was leaving the restaurant without it. But if it doesn't miraculously turn up soon I'm going to let it go as gracefully as I can.
I'm not good at letting go. It's not something I think about often, but it's true. The only times I can remember being good at letting go have been when I was leaving a relationship on my own terms.
I suspect that working with Ereshkigal is going to help with that. So many deaths in our lives: moments when something passes away forever. We're allowed -- encouraged -- to grieve, but then we are called to face the empty space with courage and with openness to possibilities.
If nothing else, I have gained that wisdom from the heartbreaks of the last year and a half.
I went to the restaurant too - even though they've told me twice it wasn't there. But I had to look for myself. The room where we'd been sitting had been completely rearranged. It wasn't there. I suspect it's in a vacuum cleaner bag somewhere.
I guess I didn't really expect to find it, but once I thought about coming back I could not not do it.
As I drove, I thought about the hematite ring I'd broken. I thought about my stolen wedding ring, and how if I were given the chance and the choice I'd take Lohain's strand (or the $2 hematite ring) over several thousand dollars worth of diamonds and gold.
And then I thought of Ereshkigal, and the way She demands that we strip things away, leave them behind as we descend.
I want my strand back. I got tears in my eyes as I was leaving the restaurant without it. But if it doesn't miraculously turn up soon I'm going to let it go as gracefully as I can.
I'm not good at letting go. It's not something I think about often, but it's true. The only times I can remember being good at letting go have been when I was leaving a relationship on my own terms.
I suspect that working with Ereshkigal is going to help with that. So many deaths in our lives: moments when something passes away forever. We're allowed -- encouraged -- to grieve, but then we are called to face the empty space with courage and with openness to possibilities.
If nothing else, I have gained that wisdom from the heartbreaks of the last year and a half.
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Thank-you, Red. You know, I didn't remember holding it in my hand at all. It gives me hope that even though I've gone through my purse several times I may yet find it there. . .