Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Tiny Black Key: Lost or Found

It kind of looks like a diary key, but might be too small. It’s made of metal and has a heart-shaped hole so that you can put it on a key chain. I know of nothing on the premises that has a lock small enough for it.

It showed up last night on the mahogany end table in the living room. There is nothing else on the table except for a white antique hobnail lamp.

I picked up the key and examined it. It reminded me of the first leather diary that I wrote in faithfully when I was a young girl. I wondered what happened to my dairies and hoped that they didn’t end up in the wrong hands.

I brought the key into my office where it sits on my desk. I thought of throwing it away, unlike all of the well intentioned, random buttons that I have placed in a neat line on the shelf in the bathroom.

I looked at the key again. What if something locked suddenly needs to be opened to reveal valuable treasure? I would have to fish around in the garbage for the key.

Does keeping it make me a hoarder? I do hold onto things that have served their purpose well beyond their intended use. I am apt to think that I might need it at a later time but rarely do. Then the time comes when enough is enough. I throw away all of those useless items that I saved so protectively. When I am in that mood; I have been known to discard things and regret it later. It’s a delicate balance.

The mystery was solved when I asked my daughter (who has been far and away) if she knew about the key. She told me that she found it on the sidewalk in California. So now someone 3,000 miles away might have to bust open her diary to make an entry, re-read mournful confessions and hopes for her future.

I think not.
Perhaps this tiny key of wisdom and compassion was there for my daughter to find and claim, bringing her home to unlock her deepest knowing, allowing her to open the door and peer into what her soul truly wants.

Sometimes it is not enough to be loved and supported, lost or found, exhausted and well travelled. Sometimes you need to find that tiny key on a busy, littered sidewalk… pick it up and hold onto it – the knowledge – the signal that says I can feel. I can return home and give my heart to the entire process.

I will not throw it away.
Journal: Periwinkle

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