Preparing to search

CandlesHow do you prepare to hit the streets of an unknown city in search of a lost son? I have taken care of the practical aspects–rented another Airbnb flop (this one close off Telegraph Ave. where the panhandlers purportedly roost), rented a car, developed a Missing flyer to post on poles and bulletin boards, called the police for advice, printed off homeless resource centers and soup kitchens.

The psychic preparation is lest distinct. Once I decided I actually was going to fly to Berkeley to try to locate Sean, I noticed a new spaciness in my approach to life. It’s as if my mental CPU is very busy running some background software, leaving little free space for running the rest of my thinking. I’m probably dreaming deeply, epically, because I wake up groggy. But I am oddly calm. I wonder if this is the calmness before the storm or if I actually have entered a realm of blessed serenity.

I have a couple of mentors in my life who have been incredibly kind and smart in helping me think this through. Both have asked me to call them daily while I’m out there, which will be a good touchstone. One friend made what I thought was a brilliant point: “Make sure to make some happy memories when you’re out there. Do something wonderful for yourself.” That had not occurred to me, and I now see it as essential for keeping me from sliding into a manic mode or donning a martyr’s robe–both are habits I’m working hard to shed.

I recently wrote two prayers: one for my son, one for me. Tomorrow, I will go to a nearby chapel to light candles and dedicate those prayers. This is the deepest preparation I can invent, because whatever I may find on those streets–son, no son, drug-addicted son, loving son, angry son, mentally ill son, other peoples’ sons–I will need God’s soft mercy.

Here is my prayer for myself:

From all the souls,
in all the stars
across universes known and imagined,
I find my own self.
May I raise my voice to sing out the Lord.
May I use my hands to lift up others.
God, help me keen my mind to the truth
and soften my heart toward my humanness.
Lighten my mother’s pain,
and erase the marks of my mistakes.
Help me to trust this eternal bond:
the mother
the child
the universe unfolding
As it was, as it always shall be.
                — SF

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