The Lost and the Found
A few days ago I stuck my hand in my pocket only to discover that I did have my pen and I did have my keys but I did not have my little stone bear in there. Last year my parents purchased for me a little bear fetish which has taken on the name of Courage, and which accompanies me, pretty much, everywhere. When I went to look for him, he was gone. This was sad.
I started looking around, somewhat passively, for the little bear and couldn’t find him. It was sad. But I figured that I’d left him sitting around the house, in my car, or had lost him somehow. None of these scenarios, in my head, was good or agreeable, but, at the same time, I wasn’t worried because I was thinking, “How many people carry around a little bear fetish?”
Last night, looking for the little bear kind of took on a new life. I was sad because I didn’t have it in my pocket and decided to start eliminating different aspects of my life where it could have landed for various reasons: like my backpack. I started to pull out all sorts of things from the computer sleeve I use for my macbook to all of the books, gadgets and items and didn’t find the little guy. Up until this point, the search was merely an exercise, I wasn’t, exactly, worried or convinced that I wouldn’t be seeing the fetish again.
Enter Erin.
I shared with her that I couldn’t find the little bear and she started looking for it. In the closet (where my pants land most nights). In the room. Under the bed. Behind the dressers. On the dressers. In the clothes. You name, it sounds like she went a-looking for it. Nothing.
At that point, I was sad. Couldn’t tell you why I was sad. Sure, I wanted the fetish. And yes, I wanted it to keep in my pocket. I don’t look at it as the Native Americans might’ve approached a fetish; but more as something that I liked having on me and holding on occasion. Most people shouldn’t even know it exists. And yet, there it was, last night I had to come to the realization that the little bear might be gone from my life forever.
As it occurred to me that I was more connected to the thing than I’d thought, I realized, for whatever reason, that I needed to be prepared to live without it. I needed to stop worrying, be sad for whatever length of time, and just prepare not to find it. I shared as much with Erin and that I was a little sad. She was too.
At the end of the night, as I was driving home, I checked the obvious places in my car with the intent of, this morning, really checking my car. Then I got home and decided to check around the dressers and on my desk one last time. As I was checking this, I felt like I should just scan under our bed to see if I could see anything. I knelt next to the bed and stuck my head under there.
There was this little black spot. I reached in, praying it wasn’t a spider, and pulled out the black thing. It was the bear fetish. I was happy.
This has proven kind of interesting to me. I don’t need something, and yet I want it around. I don’t recognize the power in something that is made for a religion that I don’t follow or believe in, or for the consumer. However, I am happy to have Courage back in my pocket.
John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West
Real Heroes Fly