Gifts from the Universe

I have dangling from the rearview mirror in my car a collection of items strung on a cord. It includes, among other things:

  • A bent cheapie pot metal ring with a peace sign on it.
  • A silver metal butterfly charm
  • A piece of a crystal dangle from a chandelier
  • A small plastic ray gun from some kind of action figure (Star Wars?)
  • Part of a fancy woven earring
  • A metal key chain fob in the likeness of Betty Boop

All these oddities are things I have accumulated over the years, which I've found lying on the pavement in parking lots or along sidewalks when I was out and about. I think of them as my "Gifts from the Universe".

I don't recall any longer exactly when or where I found most of them, the symbolic quality of many of them is remarkable to me though; expressing themes of peace, nature, spirituality, adventure, sexiness.

Lately I've been feeling a bit out of sorts, with myself mostly, but it spills over into my relationship with Penelope (how can it not?).

It largely revolves around my feelings of worth and value, of deserving Her, of feeling like I'm enough, that I've got what it takes to make this work. Despite all her reassurances and patience with me.

This morning the clock radio woke me up to The Cars' You Might Think...

 You might think I'm crazy
To hang around with you
Maybe you think I'm lucky
To have something to do

 But I think that you're wild
Inside me is some child

 You might think I'm foolish
Or maybe it's untrue
(You might think) you might think I'm crazy
(All I want) but all I want is you

 You might think it's hysterical
But I know when you're weak
You think you're in the movies
And everything's so deep

 But I think that you're wild
When you flash that fragile smile

 You might think it's foolish
What you put me through
(You might think) you might think I'm crazy

(All I want) but all I want is you

 Which is for me a kind of ballad for my own unrequited love affairs with women in my past who said they didn't get why I hung around. It feels strange to think of myself as the target of such attention. As deserving and worthy of it.

Later, I was getting into the car to come to work (special push for a customer delivery, so they're having everyone come in on Saturday. I'm assured this only happens once or twice a year; we'll see...) when I noticed something glisten slightly in the dust near my shoe as I was about to pull my feet in and close the door.

I almost ignored it, but something (I want to say Penelope) urged me to take a closer look.

I dug the glimmer out of the dust, it turned out to be a small scrap of frayed fabric with several tarnished sequins on it. Something about it felt so poignant and sad that I started to tear up.

I look at myself and see something like that: dusty, frayed, tarnished, few glimmers left; but what I heard from Penelope as I looked at the scrap of fabric was a reminder of the Hindu/Buddhist metaphor of the Lotus Flower.

The sequined scrap now resides among my Gifts from the Universe.


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