The Secret and The Ring

6-12-07

When Bobbie and I got together in 1992 I found a silver ring with flowery filigree for fifteen bucks. I’d never liked wearing rings, but liked the looks of this one. Been wearing it constantly ever since. 

I lost some weight a few years back and have kept it off—not on purpose, it just happened that way—causing the ring to fit loosely. A year or so ago, I was waving to our daughter, Natalie, as I drove away. The ring flew off. When I backed up to get it, I ran over it. With my jeweler's tools (a rubber hammer and a Swiss Army knife) I beat and bent it into a less-than-perfect circle and continued wearing it. About two months ago, the ring fell off when I was throwing a great wad of leaves and sticks into a fire in the backyard. It was dark. It was a huge fire. Next morning I sifted through the ashes and found the ring. It was black. I soaked it in vinegar then scrubbed it back to almost silver. It was looking less like a wedding band and more like a class ring from the school of hard knocks. Six weeks ago, while at work, I noticed that my ring was missing. I knew I had it during class an hour earlier because I always play with it while talking. It had to be somewhere in or around the Fine Arts Building.

I asked everyone who works in the building to keep an eye out for it. I looked the floors over, tile by tile. I searched the grass outside. Every gum wrapper, every silver-colored anything made my heart leap.

Yesterday, my friend and colleague, Rachel, showed me her engagement ring. She was all excited and I was happy for her, but it made me really, really, really want to find my tatty wracked keepsake. It’s not worth much money, but it’s worth much memory. I identify with that ring: roughed up on the road, been through the fire, lost.

A few weeks ago, I saw a video of The Secret. I immediately started pretending the premise was true (I won’t believe anything until it works).

Part of the Secret is to put a thought out into the Universe; the thought needs to be backed by strong emotion. Then you act as if it’s a done deal. And you are grateful for it. And it takes time, so don’t give up. Visualize what you want and don’t worry about how it will happen. Focus only on what you want; never allow your mind to dwell on what you do not want—and that’s not nearly as easy, not by a far sight, as it sounds.

I did not know how to visualize finding the ring because I didn’t know where it was, so I pictured it being on my finger again.

Getting mentally coordinated with all this Secret stuff takes practice. I wasn’t at all sure I was doing it right. It didn’t seem to be working, but I couldn’t admit that because I was focusing only on what I wanted. Jeez! The self-talk went like this: “It takes time. Keep that in mind. Time, sure. How much? Don’t worry about it! If you worry the Universe will not take you seriously, or worse, you’ll be telling the Universe to give you more worry.” I wanted to give it a fair chance, but there was no way to measure whether my dedication outweighed my doubts.

I must have held it all together sufficiently because last night I had a dream about the ring.

In the dream, a ring appeared on my finger, an exact replica of my ring only much shinier. This one looked like it was made from silver blended with liquid diamonds. In the dream, I showed the ring to my friend, Doug. “Look, man, it’s just like the real one, right down to the groove where I put my thumbnail to twirl it around. It looks a lot better, but the design is identical.”

Then the ring was gone, but I did not fret. I knew where to find it. It was in a box, a box that I valued. I opened the box. The box was filled with dirt and straw, and sure enough, there was the dream ring. I dug down into the dirt and straw and found the real ring. I was mighty glad to see it. I put it on, closed the box, and forgot all about the dream ring, the same way you forget about a map once you get where you’re going.

Most dreams start fuzzing apart immediately and dissolve into the first cup of coffee, but this was one of those dreams that stay with you, still vivid and crisp hours later, so I knew it meant something.

Another key ingredient of the Secret is that when you get a clue or a hint, act on it. When I got to the office today, I started looking around for a box that had value. Natalie bought me a polychromatic pyramid in Eureka Springs. It is one of my true treasures, but it never leaves the house. I do keep the box it came in at work. But it could not possibly be in there. Had to look anyway. Empty. I never realized how many boxes there are in my office. I looked in all of them. Nothing. Okay, so it was a dead end, but I did my part; I acted on it. Yeah, felt kind of goofy acting on a dream, even a vivid dream, as if it meant something. Late this afternoon, I noticed the shredder, specifically the bin the shredded paper goes into.

I do value the shredder because before we got it I had to use scissors or tear confidential student documents into little pieces. That took a lot of time. The shredder made my life much easier.

   Emptying the shredder bin is a hassle. That’s a lot of paper! It expands to fill a huge plastic bag, and no matter how carefully it’s dumped, confetti still gets all over the place. So when the bin gets full and the shredder will not accept any more paper, instead of emptying it I’ll just pack it down tighter. That buys a few more days. Just pack it down tighter...with my left hand. And that paper (trash which could be represented by dirt in a dream) does look kind of like straw.

I grabbed a giant plastic bag, enclosed the shredder box with it, turned it upside down and shook it. The paper filled the bag. I tied a knot in the bag, took it over to a conference table and started bouncing it. On the third bounce, I heard a clunk! Paper doesn’t clunk. Rings do. I lifted the bag and felt along the bottom until I got hold of something round and hard. I tore a hole in the bag and pulled out the ring.

Booga-booga!

Hey, maybe booga-booga is the order of the day as far as the Universe is concerned. Things can seem like magic until we understand how they work.

A missionary once used a flashlight to gain credibility with a South American tribe. They thought it was magic only because they’d never seen one before. The tribal shaman asked to examine the “moon stick.” The missionary smiled smugly and handed it over. The shaman clandestinely removed the batteries, handed the flashlight back to the missionary and said, “Do it again.”

I’m starting to think there’s something to this Secret thing. If you see me on a motorcycle any time soon, we’ll know for sure.

“You’re too old for a motorcycle.”

No, you are too old for a motorcycle. I’m the perfect age for one.

“You’ll break your—”

No, I won’t because I’m focusing only on having fun.

A big part of the Secret is to only think and talk about what you want. There’s a damn good reason for that: what we focus on is what we attract. It’s like placing an order with the Universe. You will get exactly what you request. The service is excellent. Don’t forget to tip the waitress.

The Secret stresses cooperation over competition. That is a wonderful way to live. I’m trying to figure out how to do that and still be a responsible Texas Longhorns fan. Last season, the Horns did often seem to be cooperating instead of competing with the other team, especially in the Ohio State game. Maybe they’re onto something.

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