I lost my cell phone at the Porter Square T station on New Years Day. And no, I wasn't intoxicated, nor any such approximation. I was on my way to yoga for goshsakes. (I'm trying really hard in 2006 to curb my swearing; I'm battin' about .150 but it's a start.) I mention my destination only because going to yoga seems like it's worth as many points as going to church or something. Bad things aren't supposed to happen when you're doing good.
At the risk of offending those who have lost a digit, (thank you for allowing me this indulgence) I liken losing my cell phone to what I've heard from a friend of mine who lost a finger: though it's gone, its memory still haunts -- or is that taunts? -- me. I can still hear its sweet sweet Head in the Door ringtone whispering softly in the distance. I sometimes feel the warm buzz of a text alert in my jacket pocket. I conduct a futile search only until I remember that I lost it.
It's not like I lost it on like any given weekday either. I lost it on a Sunday, which happened to be a major holiday, and said holiday was being observed on the next Monday and since my company so graciously foots the bill, I couldn't just walk into a Cingular store and buy another one. My IT department (who answered my frantic email on New Years, thank you very much) had to wait until today, Tuesday to order a new one. And because it was only lost, not stolen, (though since it wasn't turned in I consider it lifted for all intents and purposes), they're not overnighting it or anything and I have to wait three to five days for my phone! Potentially, since the weekend is approaching, it's possible I wouldn't get it till Monday. Meaning 8 days w/out a phone.
Here's the thing -- I know two people who don't have cell phones. And I have my suspicions about their anti-social leanings anyway. But back to my point -- I'm not even always on my phone. I easily spend a day or a night w/out using it. Yet, like most things in my life, I feel clausterphobic when I'm left without choices. (Paradoxically, I have panic attacks when I have too many choices, but that's 'least another thirty self-indulgent blogs or so.)
I discovered that I'd lost my phone while on the train, and since I'd used it right outside of the station, I knew exactly when and where it went a-missin'. I spent much of yoga trying to will its safe recovery. I get that yoga is about being present, and I was anything but, but since yoga is also about practicing awareness, and I was really aware that I wasn't there, I figured I was partially there. (See a pattern?) Which, incidentally, sucks it, b/c Brandon is an awesome teacher, and his classes are so rich you don't want to miss a line.
Anyways, so not only did I pre-occupy myself trying to will its return, I also spent a good deal more time in class and well into the evening looking for the meaning. On one hand a dear friend of mine said she's getting that it may be time to lose my Austin number (a notion for which I felt sad and entirely resistant towards) and on the other hand I'm reminded of a story another friend told me when I asked him what he thought his being stung twice by the same bee might symbolize -- the punchline of the story being, "Sir, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar".
Either way, I'm reminded yet again, that I can't force my will on the universe. Rats. Sometimes things just happen, and it, the Universe that is, seems to respond much better, when I accept things as they are instead of fighting their presence (or absence, as it were). True, I'm not getting a new phone any sooner, but at least I'm not wrought with frustration anymore. That alone is worth a lot.
Oh -- and because I'm human -- would the person who decidedly didn't turn in my phone please consider karma for just a moment? Thanks.
To Anonymous's postings -- THANK YOU.
Congratulations, Malia! I wish you both an internal happiness which unites you as a couple.