I literally lost my identity a few evenings ago on the half-hour bus ride from Denver to Boulder. It went unnoticed until a phone call came the following morning inquiring whether I recognized a certain credit card charge. No, of course not, the card has been with me in my wallet, right here . . . oh, wait. Thus began an odyssey flickering between mild panic and existential pondering.
You might not be aware of the many logistical steps to be undertaken with a missing wallet/purse: lock down/replace any credit/debit cards; implement a credit freeze; obtain a new driver's license; etc. That might sound fairly routine, except for one thing -- your life becomes provisional if you can no longer prove who you are. But for locating my passport, my life would have become a hell on many fronts.
That experience, however, led to an odd sort of reckoning -- I felt strangely free for the moment, untethered by who/what the contents of the wallet represented me to be, a kind of invisibility. There was a palpable lightness as the past had simply become an imagined construct (even the threats that my grade school infractions would go on my "permanent record" now rang hollow). Driving (w/o license) to the DMV was now riding in the desert on a horse with no name 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain…
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