The Missing Journal and the Amulet

Have you ever lost something only to find it mysteriously turn up exactly where you were looking?

I am in the process of making a Saturn amulet. I’ve made amulets before: protection (Mars), affection (Venus), and clarity (Moon). Saturn, however, is a new addition. It is a custom order, and now that the physical piece is complete, it is time to choose the optimal date to consecrate it.

Saturn is currently poorly placed astrologically for the kind of election I would ordinarily choose. This amulet requires further research to determine the ideal timing, requiring a slightly different approach.

This brings me to my lost and found story. I keep my amulet notes in a dedicated journal. I keep many journals, each for a different purpose. One stays by my side each morning for drafting these letters. Another holds ongoing Tarot studies. A third serves as my cheese-making log, recording dates, ingredients, temperatures, times, and tasting notes. Many of them share similar covers.

I went to retrieve my amulet journal. I knew exactly where it would be, on the table next to the couch. That was where I had left it. It was missing. My cheese journal sat there alongside books and current crochet projects, yet the amulet journal was nowhere in sight.

I searched my desk, then the adjacent shelf, finding nothing. Next, I checked my bedside table. My Mary Magdalene journal was there, together with a stack of books, though the journal I needed remained absent.

I returned to the living room to conduct a more thorough search. I asked my son to lift up the couches, removed all the cushions, and then methodically moved through each potential hidey hole throughout the house, searching and tidying as I went.

The journal remained missing.

During the search, I managed to organise dozens of books and reduce my bedside stack to one journal and six essential reading selections. I began skim-reading entries across various journals in case I had inadvertently recorded the amulet notes inside another journal. Reading through entries from months or years prior proved to be a pleasant distraction.

Eventually, I paused to prepare dinner and get ready for a Zoom meeting. While it was easy to focus during the zoom, the missing journal stayed on my mind throughout the night as I attempted to let the matter rest.

By morning, I had resigned myself to calling the client to request the details a second time, deciding to hold off making the awkward phone call till later in the day.

Finding Calm in the Rhythm of Stitching

Much later, I sat down to resume my crochet project. Knitting and crochet became a form of meditation for me when my children were young. The rhythmic practice of placing one stitch after the other has a deep therapeutic quality to it.

As I sat stitching on the very couch I'd dismantled the day before, I looked up. The journal was resting on the seat right beside me, undisturbed, as though it had simply been waiting for the searching to cease.

It had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours before reappearing. How it arrived there remains a mystery. My family avoids that section of the couch because it typically holds active craft materials, such as crochet cotton, buttons, and needles. Every household member was as surprised as I was by its sudden appearance, having listened to my search efforts the previous day.

The Urgency of the Rushing Woman

Moments like this often occur when I am moving too quickly and not allowing the space to slow down. Although my client had not requested a strict deadline, I had created an internal pressure to rush.

Maybe that was the point.

When something is lost and can’t be found, it can serve as a gentle reminder to slow down, to let go of the urgency. Or in my case it was probably a lesson in surrender and that is certainly what I’d been trying to do all night.

It’s like when I’m driving somewhere and somehow, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t have enough time and start speeding. Finding myself stuck behind a slow truck gives me two choices: get frustrated or surrender. I more often surrender, accepting there is nothing I can do. That surrender allows me to remember myself, to take a deep breath and slow down, letting go of the urgency I had manufactured for myself.

I recognise this tendency well; it is like an automatic reaction to do something in an attempt to keep my world running smoothly. Unlearning that habit has been an ongoing practice. It requires noticing when the impulse arises, examining the cause and consciously choosing a response rather than simply reacting.

There are some benefits of having this rushing woman energy, as I call it. When needed, I can hustle. Tell me I have to go somewhere at 4am in the morning or give me a deadline that seems tight and I’ll double down to achieve it. Those responses are useful in short bursts, but not as a permanent state of living.

Something else I’ve learned, is that the more rushing woman energy I inhabit, the more chaotic my thoughts become. It doesn’t just affect my actions; it makes mental clarity difficult to maintain.

Over time, I have learned to recognise when the rushed feeling takes over. External disruptions, like the slow car when I’m in a hurry, act as circuit breakers. They offer a moment to evaluate, to see what is behind the stress and evaluate whether a deadline is genuine or self-imposed.

My aim is not perfection, which is another expectation I am learning to release. My objective is conscious awareness, noting when old habits surface and deciding how to respond. Awareness is the first step. Once I notice I can then choose how I want to respond.

Loosening Our Grip Without Letting Go

I have a daily prompt on my phone set for 11:02am, reminding me to surrender. When it sounds, I pause, take a deep breath and notice where I am holding tension in my body before consciously allowing my muscles to relax. I’ve been amazed how much my mind settles down as my body lets go.

As I practise this, I’m realising that surrender does not mean abandoning my goals. It simply means letting go of the urgency I have attached to them.

The journal was still necessary. I still needed the information inside it to complete the work. Spending the night mentally searching every room in the house however was entirely unnecessary.

Perhaps that is what my lost journal reminded me.

Sometimes what needs letting go isn’t the task itself, but our rigid grip on it.

I still have no idea where that journal was for those 24 hours or how it ended up sitting beside me on a couch I had already searched several times. Maybe there is a perfectly ordinary explanation. Maybe there isn’t.

There is something rather lovely about the fact that it reappeared only when I stopped searching, while I was sitting quietly, placing one calm stitch after another.

· Where in your life might you be creating urgency where none actually exists?

· Is there something you are trying very hard to hold together, solve or make happen?

· What might change if, just for a moment, you loosened your grip without letting go of what matters?

May this day bring you peace. May you feel the warmth of the sun on your face.

Until next time,

Leeanne

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