I found my rose quartz necklace today.
It was in my jewelry roll, exactly where I would have expected to find it should I have actually looked for it there—go figure.
I’d been missing it for months. Actually, I thought that I left it in a very specific place. I had come up with all sorts of wild imaginings based on a past experience with a missing rose quartz necklace about what its loss and possible recovery could mean. In the end, it was hanging out with the rest of the jewelry I’ve been toting around the past year.
When I pulled it out this morning—completely left on its own, not even wrapped in a camouflaging silk handkerchief or anything—I had a little moment of wide-eyed wonder.
Humour me while I repeat myself: I thought it was missing for months. During those months, I attached expansive romantic dreams of growth and evolution to the person who was supposed to return it to me, thereby linking, in some cosmic way, the previous profound experience of the other lost necklace.
Why do I do this? Why do I want all of my life experiences to form some cohesive unit of symbolic messaging that I can read as clearly as a book?
I was walking downtown today on some business. I like the sound of that, “on some business.” A swift little phrase that links me to the hoards of well-dressed consultants and debutantes striding with confident purpose down the asphalt.
I’ve been in this city a month and am beginning to figure out what it means to be a city-dweller.
I grew up in a small town. I’ve lived in even smaller towns. Even a stroll down Seventh Street in the big city of Lethbridge would be sure to include the meeting of some friend or acquaintance. Basically, I’m saying that a degree of awareness of those around me has been included in my experience of community because I would be sure to find some linkages.
And I’m still at it.
I want to be linked to the people power-walking in downtown Montreal. I want to be linked to the communities I live in. And I want my experiences to be linked also, hence why I wanted to have lost my rose quartz necklace similar to how I had done in the past.
I’m figuring out that I can’t do that. Life contains an element of the unknown. Just because we are all inextricably linked on levels deeper than I can understand doesn’t mean that I need to understand.
I know that I’m searching for lost parts of myself, reflected back at me in the clack-clack of a well-heeled stranger passing by me on De Maisonneuve Boulevard. I know that I’m searching for a cohesive story about my “missing” necklace that I can tie up neatly with a bow.
It isn’t going to work like that.
I’m learning that sometimes the best thing I can do is put my focus on the pavement and keep pounding forward. There’s no way I could hope to share a unified experience of reality with everyone around me. Sure, that’ll happen in it’s own way, but it won’t happen in the ways I’ve known in my small-town past.
I’m giving up my past notions of connectedness in favour of a world view more rooted in reality. The finding of a previously lost rose quartz necklace shook me a little because it showed me what I wanted to be true was different than what was actually true.
Giving up these notions is a little unsettling, but I know I’m sure to find a more satisfying reality. My experience of the city is simply going to be different than another’s. Today I realized I can stop pretending otherwise.
It’s a bit of a lifted weight, really, to close off energetic lines to both the people around me and down the imagined story-lines running through my head. It’s something I need more practice at doing.
Throughout this process I know I’ll find something even better than a lost necklace, I’ll find a solid understanding of my own individual experience. I’ll find peace within myself.
And also, I ran into one of my favourite professors from almost ten years ago downtown last week. What are the odds? Sometimes, we really are all connected.