“The greatest time waster is looking for things that are lost.”
—John C. Maxwell.
I am the Great Misplacer.
For instance, I have an inhaler for chronic asthma. I’ve used one inhaler per month for the past 45 years. You’d think I could keep track of my little blue “third lung.”
Nope. I’m constantly looking for it.
Keys and glasses are the next most common offenders, with the latter being particularly ironic. How am I supposed to find my glasses when I can’t see? Ah, the joys of aging.
But this isn’t a cry about lost physical items. This is a plea of a different kind. The purpose of this short essay is to plead to you to find your lost Self (with several fingers, of course, pointed right back at me.)
You are an amazing Being. I believe that you, and I, and everyone you see, came to earth confident and the very embodiment of Life. Our souls are so closely related to Creator that, were we to stand side by side with The One and view ourselves from the third person, I think it would be hard to tell the difference.
We are that made of light. We are that closely related to God. We are, hence, that beloved.
At your soulful core, you wander where you will without fear, and where you wander includes millennia, galaxies. All the rules of the Universe are friendly to you, bending to your will according to the simple rules of intention. You are aligned with The Creator of All, and related deeply to every single person, animal, rock, tree, mountain and body of water you meet—to name a few of these “beings.” A line connects us all, making a great web. This web is made of the deepest peace you can comprehend—and then some. As it has an “is-ness,” it’s value is self-evident, meaning it doesn’t have to do or be anything other than what it is for it to be perfect and at peace. This is the Thing that Connects us all. This is also what you are made of. The deep You. The sacred You. The I AM.
I bet you didn’t know that about yourself, did you? Sadly, most of us have forgotten who we are, how connected we are, how deeply loved we are. And we spend our whole lives, this sacred human incarnation, looking for it.
To illustrate—here’s a short story, told in two parts.
A young man traveling with an innumerable group of people over rough country dropped a large mirror. It broke cleanly into many dozen pieces. Each piece he picked up still reflected a portion of him, but as the pieces were smaller than the whole mirror, it was hard for him to see his whole reflection. Still, it was better than nothing. He walked off, holding one piece. He could no longer see his whole body, but he could see his face—specifically his eyes. This was most important to him, for they reminded him of something beautiful about himself that, like the smaller mirror he now held, represented the whole. He could stay in place and attempt to re-assemble the mirror. It was his choice. Instead, he chose to get down the road like all the other travelers were doing.
Later, he tripped on a stone and dropped that piece. It again broke—this time into four pieces. He picked the largest one up and took it with him. It was far smaller, so he could no longer see his whole face, but he could at least see his eyes.
Coming to a stream, he slipped on a mossy rock and fell hard into the water. His small mirror broke once more. Through misting eyes, he placed the pieces aside and chose the largest one, which was only about the size of his thumbnail. He observed that he could see a portion of his eyes reflected only when he moved the mirror back and forth. He could no longer see his eyes in totality while holding the mirror still.
The young man wrapped this small shard of glass in many layers of red cloth, placed it safely in his shirt pocket, and continued up the trail.
We’re often like that young man.
So much of what we do reflects a small portion of ourselves back to us, like a tiny mirror. Sports, with their many lessons about persistence and will, for instance. Music, with its language of light and vibration. A lover, with that sense of deep connection we long for. Meaningful work that gives us a sense of utility and union with a common cause. Patriotism, which provides a feeling of unitedness with people we don’t have to know to feel aligned with. Religion in particular is both uplifting and “downward-sticky,” tending to be far too dogmatically rigid to be fully useful to the soulful person.
All these things illustrate a portion of our own Light back to us, like the shattered mirror. And yet, none of them are sufficient to get us a real view because we are much larger than any of those things. Still, because they reflect something back, we tend to hold to them tightly and make them more than they are meant to be – or change their use into something else. In our culture, sports, music, love and sex, our work, patriotism and religion have all been shifted into cancerous forms, out of alignment with soul.
In short, as currently presented (and in general), these no longer uplift humanity. As mere sugary substitutes, they block rather than enhance feeling. In the end, we’ve traded feeling for mere sensation, and a certain deadness of soul has resulted. In other words, they’re all shards of mirrors; occasionally useful and moderately effective in the way they’ve come to be used (abused), but they miss the point.
Back to our story of the young man.
From time to time, he would take the mirror out of his pocket and look into it. Moving it back and forth, the quarter-sized portion was partially useful, but he missed seeing his whole face. It was still better than nothing . . . wasn’t it?
After a while, he stopped. People brushed by him, some brusquely. Some cursed at him. He felt odd, out of place, like he did not belong. But he felt that he needed something. Sitting in the river of people for a time, the knowledge of what his heart was asking alit upon him.
He needed to see himself again.
Turning, he looked back over the hills and valleys he had crossed since he dropped the mirror the first time. Would the pieces even be there? Would he be able to collect enough of them and then assemble them in such a way that he would be able to see his face again? He didn’t know. It would be a long journey, but he felt after a few uncomfortable moments that he had to at least attempt to make it. The decision filled him with a peace that was deeper than his fears.
Walking backward in time, as it were, the young man stopped at each point where a mirror, his mirror, had been shattered. As he walked against the grain of the vast throng of fellow travelers, he got more than his share of sideways glances, curious looks and rude comments. A few asked what he was doing. Some decided to come along, and then decided against it and went back. Others stuck with him and endured the journey by his side, picking up their own shattered mirror fragments along the way.
What they found is that at each point, their shards had been neatly organized into small piles by someone. They never found out who, but each traveler found piles that were easily recognizable as their own. There was no space to reassemble the shards where they were located; besides, the bigger picture was what they were after. Still, a few pieces placed together gave the against-the-grain explorers a far better view than one small piece. Even holding up two shards, one in each hand, was a lot better than using one. This was encouraging to them.
The small, contrary group laughed among themselves as they traveled. They laughed at themselves, sometimes at the determined throng of which they had been a part, and more often at the absurdity of their task.
Eventually, the little band came to where their large mirrors had all been dropped. Oddly, this had happened near the beginnings of their respective journeys, in one great valley. To their immense surprise and joy, there was a man there, a holy man, whose sole purpose it was to assist them in the reassembly of their mirrors. He moved from one to another with a quiet step and encouraging words, as they painstakingly did their work. There were cut fingers. There were tears of frustration. Yet with time, one by one, the weary, embattled and contrary travelers held up mirrors that, in spite of many cracks and a few missing pieces, were complete.
When each finished their task, they helped the others. Eventually, and in supreme joy, they stood in a great circle. As instructed by the holy man, each held their mirrors outward so that they reflected the others back. The young man from the beginning of the story looked across the circle and saw his whole body reflected to him, with the added perspective of sky, trees and mountains behind him, all while he stood in the company of dear friends.
They smiled to one another, and the holy man smiled with them.
Together, the small community re-entered the horde of weary travelers, making their way to the distant mountains, as a great snake that wound through Life itself.
My good men and women, the way to soul is in the stopping. Let the crowd pass you by if you must. Do your own thing. Believe only what aligns with your feelings—not necessarily your current beliefs. This can be uncomfortable, like going against a great crowd of people.
Do it anyway.
Feel into the majesty of your soul. You are so very much larger, more beautiful and freer than you’ve been told you are. You are eternal in your beauty. Your joyful smile can enlighten ages and fellow travelers – if only you can remember your true nature. There are many, many ceremonies and practices, some very ancient, that are particularly effective in this work.
Find them.
Stop and go back if you must. Do whatever it takes to reassemble your big mirror, and then reflect it back to ourselves. Help us to find the Selves that we’ve lost.
This is the one thing we can search for that’s not a waste of our precious time.
—
This story is republished to Medium.
Photo credit: iStock