Saturday, June 14, 2014


Miffed: put into an irritable mood, especially by an offending incident. To cause to become offended or annoyed.

Miffed is the word that came to me intuitively as I pondered my loss. Why do I feel this way? It was only some material goods, even if it was only a cotton beret, scarf, ¾ knit gloves, an automatic open-close umbrella, a roll-on of Saje aromatherapy ( of a purchase with a gift certificate that I had won) in my black- and orange-striped canvas bag.

Why am I so attached to things, that is, material items? When I die – when we all die – none of it matters. It is all left behind on this earth plane. We don’t take any of it with us, except for what I imagine we do: our etheric body (, our memories, and our character/personality.

Regardless of this awareness, I realize that I am still attached to things. What is it about them that I hang onto? Why do I hold such an importance to them that it carries such weight? Doesn’t that make life more baggage-like, not to mention heavy?

What is the universe attempting to show or ‘tell’ me? What is or are the lessons of this experience?

I thought it might have to do with being (more) present as I was traveling from one Open House event (a friend’s new consignment/boutique, Nula Boutique on the Sunshine Coast, to another friend’s where she was opening up her home before her upcoming move.

Tell me, do any of you feel this way, even occasionally or am I the only one? I doubt I am, though please please me. (Is that a pun?) Let me know so I won’t feel like I’m the only one. It will make me feel a bit better, unmiffed - ok, I just invented that word - all right, less miffed then.

And, in the meantime, I will hopefully be able to find my lost bag with said items. Time will tell! Que sera, sera.

1 comment:

  1. Good news: I got my bag back with all its contents! :)