Friday, March 18, 2011

On Loss: A Q & A with me and Me

Me: There is no loss, only release and transformation.
me: My library book sure seems lost. I can’t find it anywhere.
Me: The library book is somewhere, though, isn’t it?
me: Yes, it is somewhere, but I don’t know where that somewhere is.
Me: As long as it is somewhere, it is not “lost” as in “gone forever.” It is just not where you know to find it.
me: Sure, but that’s not going to get me out of paying a library fine if I don’t return it soon.
Me: Do you know where you children are right now?
me: Yes, they are at school.
Me: Do you know exactly where they are at school?
me: Well, no, they could be in their classrooms, in the school library, out on the playground…
Me: So are they “lost” because you don’t know exactly where they are?
me: No, they aren't lost because I know I could find them if I looked. I’ve looked for the library book, though, and I can’t find it. So, for my purposes (not to mention the library’s), it is LOST.
Me: What if you went out to the car, looked under the seats one more time, and voila, there it is. Would it still be “lost”?
me: No, of course not, because then I would know where it is.
Me: So “lost” is not a permanent condition?
me: Not always. For example, if that book was mistakenly put in the trash, hauled away by the trash truck, and buried in a landfill, I would never find it again, and it would be lost to me forever.
Me: And if, while in the landfill, that book turns into compost over time, would it not have been transformed? Perhaps even into a new book, if someday a tree grows in that former landfill site, ad that tree is cut down to make paper for another book some few hundred years in the future?
me: Well, sure, but it’s still lost to me.
Me: So “lost” is only relative to you?
me: Not necessarily. The book would be lost forever for all the patrons of the LA Public Library system. Even if it turns to compost which feeds a tree which becomes paper for a book, the odds of it being the same text (which, ironically, is called Composting) are pretty slim.
Me: what if somebody else found the book and returned it for you?
me: So then it would only be “lost” in my mind, assuming I didn’t know that it had been returned.
Me: So “lost” is a condition pertaining only to whomever might be looking for something for the time that they are looking for it?
me: That sounds right.
Me: What happens between the time of looking and finding?
me: Funny you should ask. If I don’t find it right away, I usually give up looking and forget about it. Very often, that’s when the “lost” thing turns up!
Me: So when you stop holding that vibration of “it’s lost,” then it can become “found”?
me: well, yes...I see your point, but that only works for things that can be found. My mother, however, since she passed away two years ago, is “lost” to me forever. No amount of looking, forgetting, releasing, or holding a different vibration is going to return her physical form to me.
Me: So she is “lost.”
me: To me, she is. And to my children, my sister, and her friends…
Me: Was she just a physical body to you, then?
me: Of course not. I loved her indomitable spirit, her passion for life….
Me: Does Spirit die?
me: no, never.
Me: Has she then been transformed?
me: Sigh. Yes. I can see I’m not getting out of this with you, am I? Okay, help me with this then. How do I convince the library not to charge me for the Composting book because it has been 'released and transformed'?

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