I found it. The ring. Or rather, the ring found me.
On one side it’s like I’ve lost everything. My job, my relations, my home, my mom. Slipping away. A strong feeling of loss.
On the other side it’s like I’ve gained everything. My job, my relations, my home, my mom. Added to my life and feeling grateful.
My emotions, wrapped up in the perspective I choose, whether sorrow or joy.
I’ve been looking for my ring, not remembering where I put it. Have gone through pockets, purses, and pouches, totally clueless to where I put it. I was warm and the ring was too tight.
I sit down to write. On perspective. On choosing how to feel. Lost or blessed. I can tell it moves me and I look up from the page. There! There is my ring. Right by me. I feel relief. A relief transmitted from my words on the page to the ring, sitting right there. As if it’s calling me, saying: “Here I am.”
Why obsess? Over what can be or cannot be. Like I do. All the time. Fearing loss. But what is lost? My sense of seeing, my sense of knowing how to see. Because it’s right there, all the time, in front of me, just waiting for me to see it.