I stepped onto the train platform and felt
for the strap of my handbag.
My rucksack was there. The present for my
friend Heather was there. My tube ticket was there. Where was my handbag?
My handbag was gone.
I'd travelled early that morning from
Malvern to Paddington, and taken the tube to Charing Cross on the way to my
psychotherapy supervision training. I was half an hour away from the Tibetan
Buddhist centre where the training would take place. Without my handbag.
I went into action mode. I ran after the
disappearing tube to see if I'd left it on my seat - nothing. I walked quickly
to find a tube employee - who sent me to the mainline station, who sent me to
lost luggage, who said I'd have to call Paddington lost luggage. As I walked I
racked my brains. Could I remember taking my handbag from the first train? I
would rather it had been stolen, to save my embarrassment, but I had a horrible
feeling...
As I walked from place to place, I was
counting the loss. £160 in cash. My phone & all those numbers. My Kindle.
My iPod. My bank cards, driving license, all the cards in my wallet. My £70
train ticket home & travelcards for the weekend. My house keys. My filofax,
which contained my entire life - all my client appointments, all my addresses,
my schedule for the year. Gone.
I asked the train staff if they could call
Paddington for me - I had no money and no phone. My eyes pleaded with them.
They said they couldn't help me.
At this point, I realised that I had a
choice. I was feeling more and more panicky. I could either burst into tears,
schlep back to Paddington, cancel the weekend's training & go home with my
tail between my legs. Or I could take one step at a time and go forwards.
I went forwards. I carried on to my
destination. I arrived at my training (late) and announced to the group that
I'd had a disaster. They were all wonderful. The centre director looked up
numbers for me on his computer (Paddington lost property, my bank to cancel
cards...), the course leader leant me money for lunch, my husband got in
contact with Heather, I hogged the phone during the breaks.
It wasn't a great day. I felt waves of
panic, anger, feeling utterly stupid, fear of the unknown, despair. People kept
saying I was dealing with it all ultra-calmly, and I wondered if I was in
shock. I guess a Buddhist centre is a good place to practice non-attachment,
and here was my big opportunity...
I kept working with the feelings as they
arose. I thought 'one step at a time' or 'it's only money and inconvenience' or
simply 'let go'. My gaze kept returning to the huge shrine in the room we were
working in, and the three big golden Buddhas. I allowed myself to feel
supported by the universe. I'd be looked after, one way or another. I leaned on
my faith.
By the time I stood under the clock at
Waterloo station, waiting for my friend Heather, I felt better than OK. I felt
good. I had truly given up on getting back the contents of my handbag. I
thought they might recover my filofax, if I was lucky. I had let go.
As I waited, a man approached me.
"Are you
Fiona?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Pete.
We've got your bag."
They'd travelled from Malvern that morning.
They'd seen my bag left behind on my seat, and watched people walk past. They
thought, 'we have to do something'. They took it to lost property, who told
them they'd charge for me to collect it. And so they found my text message to
Heather on my phone, arranging when and where we were meeting. They'd been
trying to get in touch with her all day to let her know that they had my bag.
And then they'd COME TO MEET ME.
For the first time that day, I burst into
tears. I hugged them both. I'd let go of it all - my Kindle, my filofax, my
phone, my iPod, all that much-needed cash. And here it all was. Returned to me
- delivered to me on the other side of London - by strangers who wanted to do
the right thing. I could hardly believe it.
On my way back from London yesterday, I read
this:
"When we are forced to attend to the
places where we are most stuck, such as when faced with our anger and fear, we
have the perfect opportunity to go to the roots of our attachments. This is why
we repeatedly emphasise the need to welcome such experiences, to invite them
in, to see them as our path. Normally we may only feel welcoming towards our
pleasant experiences, but Buddhist practice asks us to welcome whatever comes
up, including the unpleasant and the unwanted, because we understand that only
by facing these experiences directly can we become free of their domination. In
this way, they no longer dictate who we are." (Ezra Bayda, from 'Beyond Happiness')
I know this to be true.
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