I found this necklace last month in dewy morning grass next to a bright green lighter beside this boulder.
Since I seem to be in a lost and found theme, I figured I post this photo of my find and see if anyone is familiar with the symbols on the pendant.
The necklace itself is so short, I don’t see how anyone could get it over their head. I wonder if it’s intended as some sort of hand-held mala where the beads pass through your fingers to keep count. However these beads are metal, not wood or crystal.
The minute I saw the necklace I was intrigued. More mysteries surfacing from the Big Sur coastline.
If you have a lead on cracking this code, clue me in!
Last night I lay beside Jeb in the darkness. He had crawled up into my arms, his seven year old head resting on my shoulder, a leg thrown across mine.
He felt heavy like a stone – at least 60 pounds – and I wondered how long it had been since I’d held him in my arms like this. I recalled the early months of his life when I could lay on my side and and hold him within the crook of one arm. How his toes would brush my belly button. Now, they dangled around my ankles.
I thought about how one day – not so far away – he may no longer want to be this close. His body too big and long to curl up and rest within my limbs. His mind may be elsewhere, no need to cuddle with his mom.
I could see the stars through the screen of his bedroom. Feel his solid head near my chest. Listen to his breath. I soaked in the weight of the moment, as if his heaviness would leave an imprint on my body to always remember.
Once he fell asleep I moved myself out from under his floppy arms. The thought of the ever-elusive jade stone from Big Sur came to mind. Prompted by some quiet whisper I felt moved to look in my backpack one more time for the stone. My pack has about ten zippered pockets and I reached my hand inside each one, feeling my way into every crease and crevice.
That pocket’s empty.
Mmm, an umbrella. Ok.
Oh, Jeb’s old shirt is in this one. Laundry. Alright.
This pocket’s empty.
And then, I went to a very small inner pocket and felt something. Sure enough, I pulled out the little bag that held the jade given to me at the Heart Beat of Big Sur. There it was.
photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved
So here it is. Did the stone actually slip through the portals of time and space? I had searched my backpack repeatedly a few days ago to no avail.
Or had it been with me all along and I simply needed to experience a lesson of letting go? As promised, I had sent the sunrise shell to Big Sur on New Year’s eve, even though the jade had gone missing. Was the reemergence of the jade my reward for non-attachment and promises kept?
Or was it just that I was a scattered mother who couldn’t remember where I’d stashed my rock?
Funny thing about this stone, it’s full of mystery.
School started yesterday and I’m back on familiar roads, driving between the post office, the gas station and the local market. As I traverse routes fourteen years familiar, I try to remind myself to see these pathways with fresh eyes. Not just fall asleep at the wheel and move through turns and side streets with unconscious habit.
It’s a constant practice of stirring myself awake.
photo by Jeb - all rights reserved
I reach for reminders of what it’s like to feel the new. To experience each moment, wide open. Just a month ago I wandered through the village of Big Sur, watching mountain sentries of that river valley reveal themselves at first daylight. Curiosity lead me to a courtyard full of statues and alters, where the nearby gas station attendant opened the padlock gate to let me inside.
“You just want to look around?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I can open the gate for you.”
photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved
Later that same morning I settled in at the Big Sur River Inn for a cup of coffee by the fire. Three leathered bikers were eating breakfast and the one with the bandana tied around his forehead boldly invited me to join them on their weekend tour.
“Who knows!” he said, “It could be the most incredible day of your life. It’s beautiful today!”
I was heading in the opposite direction, not fated for a ride on the back of a Harley that morning. But what may have begun as a classic guy-tries-to-pick-up-girl scenario, actually blossomed. Once it was established that I would certainly not be joining them but that I was interested to hear about their trip while I finished my coffee, Enthusiastic Biker’s friend joined in. He was more quiet and about 175 pounds bigger.
I don’t know exactly how it happened, but within twenty minutes a genuine conversation unfolded between us. Topics spanned our children (“they grow up so fast!”), Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” (“I just saw my daughter dance this production at her university”), to the Salem witch trials (“Can you imagine living in those times?” ).
Though we all may have been different ages and had different interests, we shared one thing in common: a curiosity to experience something new. A willingness to share about ourselves. And it seemed easier to do since we all were out of our familiar elements.
So, as I make my way through that same cereal aisle at the grocery store back home – the one I’ve perused plenty of times – how do I keep my experience with the Cheerios as fresh as my fireside chat with the bikers?
I guess for now, step one is just asking the question.
I found this necklace last month in dewy morning grass next to a bright green lighter beside this boulder.
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