Lost and Found in Paris

So yesterday I told you I lost my wallet in Paris. 

That got me thinking about “lost."

In the movie “Midnight in Paris,” the hero, Gil got lost one night while …

What? You haven’t seen Midnight in Paris. It’s a must. A classic. Like Annie Hall. Come to think of it, I saw Annie Hall recently, and it wasn't as good as it used to be. They must have cut some stuff out for Netflix. Come to think of it, Root Beer Barrels, Roy Orbison and Bell-bottom pants aren’t as good as they once seemed either. But Midnight in Paris will survive the test of time. I’m sure of it. I’d bet all my Polaroid stocks on it.

Anyway, Gil wandered the streets of Paris aimlessly until he rested on the steps of a church in a deserted neighborhood. 

At midnight, the church bells rang and a 1920’s Peugeot (that survived the test of time) came by scooping him up and off into a wild adventure with a bunch of ex-patriot American writers from 100 years before. To think, not only was Gil—played by Owen Wilson—by those steps, but also F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, even Woody Allen and Rachel McAdams.

So when I wandered aimlessly past the church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont and saw those steps, well, you know …

So Gil was lost and found adventure. I was lost and found Gil’s steps. My wallet was lost and found by American Airlines on the plane. But if you read my Blog yesterday, you know I did a lot of worrying about it before it was found. 

I remember something I read by an eastern mystic named Muktananda. It was called The Necklace Was Never Lost. It was the story of a woman who had a jade necklace she wore every day and carefully stored in its case every night. One morning she awoke to find the necklace was gone. She panicked, looking all around her bureau and everywhere in her apartment in case it dropped on the floor. She knew it had been stolen, cursing the thief who stole it. She made a list of all the potential thieves who had coveted her necklace and called each one warning them to return it. She reported it to the police. When they arrived and she gave them the description of the necklace, the police asked her, “Is that it hanging around your neck?”

So maybe my wallet popped out of my pocket during the night. Maybe it was bothering me so I put it in the seat pocket in front of me. Of course that would mean I was becoming senile and couldn’t remember what I had done just a few hours ago. Maybe it popped out of my pocket during the night. (I hear you “tskers” saying “He is getting senile.”) Whatever it was, it wasn’t lost. It was somewhere else. Sort of like me in Paris, wherever I am, I find myself.

Unfortunately, that’s not true for everything in life. Owen Wilson died at the age of 46. We’ve all lost loved ones, so we know what "lost" really means. The kicker is that sometimes the ones we love are like my wallet and the necklace—not lost at all, we just don't hold them close or don't see them at all.