For the past two weeks, my belongings have been staging their own disappearing acts.

I lost my watch right after a sports massage, left my trusty 5‑year‑old Hydro Flask in a café (may it hydrate another soul!), sent my AirPods on an unexpected spin in the washing machine (cue “You Spin Me Round” by Dead or Alive), and spent half a day playing hide-and‑seek with my car keys.

And that’s just the highlight reel…

It’s as if everything’s joined a secret club of vanishing acts.

Every time something goes missing, my mum’s classic question echoes in my head: “Where and when did you last use it?”

And my inner voice cheekily replies, “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”

I used to beat myself up over it—feeling forgetful, even a little foolish.

In those moments, it feels like time is slipping through my fingers. 
Like I've had one too many coffees, and everything is moving just a little too fast.

But lately, I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s not about memory.

Maybe it’s about something deeper.

The Distraction of Modern Life

We live in a world designed to pull us away from ourselves—endless notifications, scrolling and messages.

Is it any wonder we lose track of things?

But what if losing things isn’t just an inconvenience? What if it’s a sign?

A little signal from the universe, whispering: “Hey, you...Come back. Be here now.”

During these last few weeks of losing things, I realised I’ve also been losing something far more important—presence.

Each forgotten item is like a breadcrumb, marking where I wasn't present.

The truth is, we don’t just lose things. We lose moments. Moments of noticing. Moments of clarity. Moments of connection.

I’ve been elsewhere in conversations.

Physically there, but mentally scattered.

Listening, but not really hearing.

If you're practising distraction, you're deepening the muscle of disconnection.

Everything bleeds over. How we show up in one moment is how we show up in every moment.

Sometimes the real tragedy isn’t losing things but not noticing until it's too late.

When you feel like life is moving too fast, maybe it's time to pause and sharpen your axe.

Abraham Lincoln once said:

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

What noises can we dial down to make space for what matters?

Which distractions can we choose to ignore?

What moments have I lost?

So, the next time I lose something, I’ll try to remember that it’s not just about finding the object.

It’s about finding myself again.

Point. Act. Stay present.

Have a great week.

Kia Kaha & Love,

Chris