A reflection on energy, trust, and the natural rhythm of return
By Roshan Jayasinghe
Over the past fifteen years, I’ve owned only three wallets. You might think that would make me cautious, but in truth, it’s made me a quiet observer of life’s strange and graceful choreography.
My first and second wallets both had their share of vanishing acts, small disappearances here and there, often due to my relaxed attention toward them. But two occasions stand out.
The first was in the Azusa Canyons of California, where I lost my wallet entirely. Days later, a cyclist found it on the roadside and returned it to me. Another time, I left it perched on a gas pump, drove off, and hours later found it still there, sunlit and waiting, as if no time had passed.
Friends have often rescued my wallets from cafés, cars, and park benches. They laugh, shake their heads, and say, “Only you, Roshan.” I used to call it forgetfulness. Now I see it as rhythm, a playful conversation between me and the energy of things.
The Rhythm of Return
The second wallet continued the same curious dance. On July 19 this year, it disappeared again, this time in Ojai, California. I didn’t panic; by now, I’d made peace with the pattern.
Three months later, the Ventura County Sheriff’s Office, seventy-five miles from home, called to say they had it, everything intact. I smiled on the drive there, not because I was surprised, but because I recognized the familiar choreography of return. Life, once again, had moved in rhythm.
Accompaniments, Not Possessions
Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing things as possessions. They aren’t ours to own, only to accompany us for a time. Everything physical carries its own pulse, its own timeline of alignment with us.
A wallet, after all, is just a carrier of identity and energy. When it disappears, it reminds me to trust. When it returns, it reminds me to smile. It’s the universe teaching me that energy doesn’t vanish; it circulates. What is meant for your flow cannot be kept from you.
The Universe’s Gentle Humor
Nature never clings. Leaves fall, rivers dry, yet everything renews itself. My wandering wallets have become small parables of that truth, lighthearted reminders that life is trustworthy and a little mischievous.
Each return feels like a wink from the universe: See? You never really lose what’s meant for you.
Now, I carry a third wallet, brand new, and this time equipped with an AirTag, courtesy of my three sons, who’ve grown tired of the saga. They call it a practical solution. I call it the end of an era.
Because while the AirTag may keep track of the wallet, it also steals a bit of the magic, the suspense, the quiet anticipation of its mysterious journeys, and that joyful confirmation of trust when it would inevitably find its way home.
Still, perhaps that too is part of life’s humor, even as technology tries to protect us from uncertainty, the heart still longs for the wonder of not knowing, for the faith that things, and people, will find their way back in their own time.
Author’s Note
The wallets have come and gone, each carrying its own small story of loss, return, and grace. But the message endures: what truly belongs to your energy cannot be lost, it can only travel a while, teaching you trust, before finding its way back, as all things do.
About the Author
Roshan Jayasinghe is a regular contributor to the Morning Telegraph. His reflections explore the subtle intelligence within everyday life, where energy, nature, and human awareness quietly meet.
