Key to Aunt and Uncle's house in Oxnard: When my roommates two roommates ago threatened me, I asked them if I could stay with them until I found a new place, IF and only if something happened, and only temporarily. They refused. I clarified that it was only a "just in case" and they refused again. When I explained that it hurt my feelings quite a bit, my Aunt's reply was - and this is a direct quote, "Why not just get over it?" It's their right to refuse, of course - but it also says something quite particular about our relationship, which is to say, it's over. Forever as far as I'm concerned - I wouldn't refuse someone I disliked in that situation, much less family. Long past time I took that key off the ring.
Key to apartment in West Chester: Why was it still there? Laziness. It was the last token of my life in Pennsylvania that I carried with me, so I suppose subconsciously I had clung to it. Maybe? But not now - I have made the decision with my will and my purpose. I am here by choice, and happy where I am.
Mystery Key: It opened something - what? No idea. Rather than keep it with me and hope it became clear, I've chosen only to carry what I need. What was past and locked will remain so. That which is here, and I need - is open for me. I carry nothing I don't need.
Bike lock key: I rode my bike all over Philadelphia when I lived in Manayunk. I commuted to work at Drexel on my bike, despite the killer hills - but my road bike is worth quite a bit, and by all accounts, bikes get stolen in droves here in LA. So i got a beater commuter bike. ( a Trek 820 in matte black and blue - it looks like a bruise. Hence its name - Bruise Lee.) The road bike is still in storage - ironic that it's too valuable to even unbox. Still, I'll keep it, eventually I'll do triathlon again, and i'll need it - and it's a top notch bike.
Rode the bike to work today. I woke up very early - even earlier than I intended. I put the pillow over my head to block out the morning light. Then I thought, "The breeze at dawn has something to tell you. Do not go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Do not go back to sleep." Thank you, Rumi. So I'm up, I haul out the old bike shorts. Pack work clothes, laptop, book. Hit the road. Ride up the coast. Beach. Rolling breakers. Blue skies. Sand on the curving bike path. Music.
I'm up in Santa Monica far faster than I expect, and once I labor up Colorado to work - I'm an hour and fifteen minutes head of schedule. I sit with coffee outdoors, and read more of "The Children of Hurin".
This is as good as it gets. I'm content. This is the happiest time in my life - and it keeps getting better.
Life is full of keys. I've unlocked what I need to unlock, and left locked what it was right to leave behind.