In case of loss, please return to:

Beads of sweat prickled Becca’s forehead as she crossed the street. Despite the radiating heat, she was relieved to escape from the heady scent of geranium and crisp air conditioning of the therapist's office. What a waste of time!

Entering the parklands Becca dodged an off-course frisbee as she trudged toward the shade of a large oak on the nearby rise. Throwing her bag to the ground, she slumped to the base of the tree, settling in a nook between two large roots.

Becca’s mind was racing. She’d lied to her boss about being sick just to attend the group therapy workshop and she’d failed to achieve anything! She should have gone to work and finished the project that would now be past its deadline.

Becca hoped that by healing her ‘inner child’, she’d be able to better connect with her own children. But, unlike all the other serene women in the class, She’d failed to achieve this. Her parents had been workaholics, rarely having time for Becca amongst the obligations of career and life. Now, despite promising herself that she wouldn’t do the same, she was doing exactly that.

When the world had gone into lockdown and she was forced to stay at home with her kids, she came to a soul-crushing realization. Becca didn’t know who they were. She discovered that she didn’t know their struggles, their strengths, or what made them tick. She’d lost any connection with her children. She’d lost them because she was too busy!

Sure, she was busy doing ‘mum’ stuff. After her own work, life was busy with school, after-school care, chores, mum taxi to soccer, ballet, piano, obligatory weekend birthday parties, cleaning, cooking, groceries, budgets, planning holidays, and ticking off the to-do lists that never ended. But despite doing it all for them, she’d still lost them.

“Quality over quantity,” said all the childless parenting experts. All very well for them to say. They could give kids back after they’d finished their research. Becca tried to engage with the kids during dinner prep or when they were driving, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the to-do list. She struggled to open up to these little souls. She was simply going through the motions.

“What will it take!?” Becca shouted to nothing in particular. Why can’t I just enjoy my kids and connect with them? She thought as she sank further into the natural armchair of the tree base.

The rumble started in her back and turned to a shudder beneath her body. The ground was moving. The tree was moving. Becca grabbed her bag and stood to run. Being under a tree isn’t safe in a storm, so no doubt it was foolish in an earthquake!

But, as she glanced around the park, no one else had noticed. People enjoyed picnics in the shade, exercise fanatics jogged in the relentless heat, and the frisbee game continued.

Confused, Becca looked back to the now silent tree. Cautiously, she made to re-settle in the shade for just a little longer. Her self-extraction from therapy meant she still had an hour until school pickup.

The space between the roots wasn’t nearly as comfortable now. As she turned to assess what had changed, she noticed a small hollow at the base of the tree. The rounded corner of a book peeked out.

Becca scanned the area. It hadn’t been there before. She was certain. Nobody else was nearby so she tentatively reached for the corner of the book. Expecting resistance, Becca was surprised when the book fell into her hands as if by its own free will.

It was ancient. Becca could tell. Not because it was falling apart. It was bound sturdily. But, it had an unearthly wisdom and authority about it. Becca placed the small book on her lap as she arranged herself against the tree. Its cover felt strangely cold for such a hot day. Soothingly cold. A gentle fizz buzzed up her fingers as they ran across the smooth, black leather and down the band of elastic that kept it closed. It was mesmerizing in a way Becca just couldn’t describe. Yet for all appearances, it was simply a black notebook.

Becca played with the idea of opening it. What if it held someone’s private secrets? Someone must have hidden it here and it wouldn’t be right for her to pry. But then again, she thought about how it had appeared. A rumble that no-one else felt? A hollow that appeared from nowhere?

Perhaps it was meant for her?

As if the book had read her mind, the elastic slipped from the corners. The book wanted her to open it.

Tentatively, Becca opened the front cover.

In case of loss, please return to: The hollow at the base of the oak tree in Boxstreet Parklands.

As a reward: $60,000.

$60,000! To return the book to the tree?! She could buy her husband the Tesla that he dreamed of! She could pay off their debt and renovate the kitchen! She could take the family on holiday to Disneyland! Heck, she could quit her job and take a year to just stop for a while!

Come on Becca! Be realistic! As if money will just fly out of a tree! Becca’s mind was battling between realism and the desire to dream. Given she had nothing to lose, Becca opted to dream and made to put the book back in the tree. She met with some resistance. Then, as if on a slingshot, the book shot straight back out and landed with a thud in her lap.

A little shocked and bewildered, Becca opened the book again to its initial message.

In case of loss, please return to: The hollow at the base of the oak tree in Boxstreet Parklands. Only return this book after it has served its purpose.

As a reward: $40,000.

Only return this book after it has served its purpose? Read Becca, That wasn’t there before! And the reward has dropped!!

Becca puzzled over the clues but opted to venture further into the mystery. She dare not try to return the book too early again, or there’d be no money left. If there was really any at all. Either way, this was no ordinary book.

As she fingered the corner of the pages, a familiar fizz spread up into her hands. Becca took it as a sign to turn the page.

The page was empty.

She turned another page. Empty.

Becca flicked through the entire book. Empty.

Becca supposed she should write something. Surely the purpose of an empty book is for someone to write in it? She rifled through to the depths of her tote, where surely she had a pen. The best she could find was an almost-blunt pencil from one of the kids. It would have to do.

She stared at the page. The book must serve a purpose… Thought Becca.

Becca was no stranger to offloading the day's concerns into a journal nor to writing to-do lists. Both of which helped to tame the endless swarm of thoughts that consumed her mind. So, she set about writing out her experiences of the day thus far, as strange as they had been.

She followed with a to-do list, a gratitude list (she’d heard they were all the rage), and thoughts of how she would spend the money and why. To this bit, she ensured all spendings were noble and included a generous charity donation. The book seemed too auspicious to care about selfish gains. Becca wanted to better her chances of it being accepted by the tree.

She wasn’t sure she’d covered all bases. Some people use books for poetry or creative ventures. That had never been her thing and besides, she was running out of time. She had to get the kids in 20 minutes. Surely one of her written options was the book’s ‘purpose’.

Closing the book, Becca secured its elastic closure, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She savored the summer scents of grass and hot earth. Willing the tree to please accept the book, she opened her eyes and gently pushed the dark journal into its hollow. There was no immediate rebound this time. Becca held her breath. Excitement began to bubble. She’d done it! I wonder where the money comes from?

Suddenly and with great force the book flew back out of the hollow and hit her hard in the stomach. “Uugghh!”, Becca winced and took a moment to catch her breath.

Annoyed, she flipped off the elastic and opened the cover.

In case of loss, please return to: The hollow at the base of the oak tree in Boxstreet Parklands. Only return this book after it has served its purpose. And only after you have learned yours.

As a reward: $20,000.

Only after I have learned mine? My purpose!? How am I supposed to find my life purpose in 15 minutes!? Becca fumed. If she got it wrong again, there'd be no money left anyway!

Defeated, Becca leaned back against the tree and cast the book aside. She rarely got moments like this to herself and she’d wasted most of it on a riddle. Well, not anymore! This was her time.

With her eyes closed, Becca slowed her breath to ease her frustration. She listened to the sounds around her. The cicada’s humming their chorus. Fellow humans laughing and chatting. The wind rustling the leaves of the giant oak that held her in its cradle of roots and trunk. She felt the warmth of the day like a hug. The cool shaded grass like a refreshing salve. She sighed slowly. And she smiled. This moment right now she would take with her in her heart as a moment to recall in times of chaos. In this moment she felt connected to life.

Thwack.

The hardcover of the book had swung open and rapped hard on Becca's hand. She looked down at its otherworldly presence and quizzically pondered this action, rubbing at her stinging knuckles.

And then it dawned on her. Becca gathered the book and retrieved the almost-blunt pencil from where it had landed with the most recent book ejection. She opened the now eerily blank pages, all prior entries erased by the tree’s wisdom.

And she wrote. She wrote her lessons, not just the day’s actions. She wrote her feelings. She wrote that her purpose was to live fully present in each moment. For when she lives fully present in each moment she will find connection. Because when she lives fully in each moment, she doesn’t fear judgment, because judgment is borrowed from the future. If she fears no judgment then she can be her true authentic self. She can simply be. This is her purpose. To connect to life, to others, to her children from within the present moment.

Becca held the book on her lap, relishing its unnatural coolness under her palms. Slowly, a warmth began emanating across her thighs. The back cover was rapidly getting uncomfortably hot. Becca turned it over, looking for the source of the heat, when the elastic slipped itself free. This time, the book fell open to reveal a pocket inside the back cover. In the pocket, she found a folded note.

No sooner had Becca retrieved the note did the book snap itself shut and recoil spontaneously into the tree. With a rumble and a shudder of the ground, the hollow closed and the tree was whole. Once more, nobody else had noticed the earth's movements.

Becca was brought back to reality by the heat in her hand. As she unfolded the note, Becca found herself staring at a cheque written out to Becca Robinson, for $20,000. Barely believing her eyes, she turned it over to find the words “Live your purpose”.