Life as a Metaphor
If you don’t think that life is a metaphor, you haven’t been paying attention. We live under the aegis of a larger reality that not only wants us to succeed — a truly beneficent controlling force — but also wants us to enjoy the voyage. When you pay attention, you discover illustration, illumination, and even humor in the lessons of life. That is, if you’re moving in the right direction. Sometimes the lessons — especially for those who think that life is merely a rehearsal — can be kinda tough. Mostly though, when you keep your eyes and ears open you will be informed and often entertained, even if the value may only appear on the mindscape on Monday morning.
So much for the philosophy, check this out. Linda and I went to the beach. We locked everything in the trunk, and I tied the car key through both drawstrings of my bathing suit, dropping it into my shorts. Safe, huh? Linda watched from the beach as I plunged into the waves. I didn’t go out as far as the surfers, preferring the shallows a few hundred yards from the "Caution: Strong Currents" sign. There was a wave that nearly stripped off my suit, but it didn’t, and after a half-hour of delicious wallowing, I made my way to the beach.
We walked back to the car, and I untied the drawstrings, retrieved the key and opened the trunk. I withdrew a towel and a pair of dry shorts, closed the trunk, and slipped off behind some trees to change. When I came back to the car, I couldn’t find the key. The car was open, but the trunk was locked. Linda and I scoured the beach a half-dozen times from every possible angle. We poured over the car, even managing to get into the trunk through the fold-down back seats. The key was not to be found.
The ever-competent Linda had brought her cellphone, and called the rental car company. They informed her that there was no AAA on the island, and it would cost $63 to send a taxi out to us with another key. And it would take an hour for him to get there. Wisely, though not with my assent, Linda told them she would call them back, and we renewed our search. We pulled apart everything that could come undone, looking in places where the key could not possibly be. I was ready to tear open the trunk — it was a Neon and wouldn’t take much — but I was dissuaded because I couldn’t figure out where the key might be even if I was successful.
Instead of brutalizing the Dodge, in an unpremeditated approach, I pressed down around the edge of the trunk lid where there clearly wasn’t enough room for the key. But in one corner, I heard a slight click. I looked and saw the key. How it got there, I haven’t a clue, still. I climbed back in through the car and into the trunk, for the fourth time. I pushed up on the corner of the trunk lid, and Linda fished out the key. Yippee! We were saved! And not only greatly satisfied at having brought our search to a successful if incomprehensible conclusion, but we still had $63 in our pocket.
My darling wife recommended that we spend some of our loot on a libation, and off we toodled down the road to a local Hanalei haunt. Sensitive to — okay, paranoid about — our travail, I fondled the car key in my pocket on a regular basis. When I confirmed with Linda that she had the condo key, she replied that she didn’t. She said I had it. I didn’t have it, which I affirmed after patting myself down to the bone. With the one key I would never again relinquish clutched firmly in my closed fist, I went out to look for the other key in the car. No luck. Could it have fallen out at the beach? No, Linda said. She hadn’t gotten out of the car since I had given her the key.
I wasn’t terribly worried about not finding the key, since there was a combination lock box at the house that contained another key, but the psychic disorientation was upsetting. We finished our chi chi’s and went out to the car. Linda found the key in the side of her shoulder bag, a spot I’d not checked.
What was going on here? Why was I misplacing my keys, not only once but twice, and in a matter of minutes? What was the metaphor? I felt considerable relief that we’d been successful in finding the keys, but was frustrated at not being able to parse the purpose of these events. Linda couldn’t come up with an explanation either.
One of the ironies of exploring the metaphors of life is that most become clear without effort. In fact, the more one demands clarity, the more difficult it often is to see the truth. It’s kinda like being able to see better out of the corner of your eye at night. The other alternative is to wait for the meaning to make itself apparent, usually with in a bolt out of the blue. Say goodnight, brain.
And that’s SetonnoteS...I’m Tony Seton.