I Lost My Identity at Venice Beach Drum Circle and this Happened

A specific kind of panic sets in when you realize your wallet is gone. I was a mile away from the Venice drum circle when I felt my empty pocket.

I forgot about the surgery. I forgot about the crowd. I just walked. I retraced every step of that boardwalk with my phone flashlight like a scavenger looking for metal and coins.

A specific kind of panic sets in when you realize your wallet is gone. I was a mile away from the Venice drum circle when I felt my empty pocket.

I forgot about the surgery. I forgot about the crowd. I just walked. I retraced every step of that boardwalk with my phone flashlight like a scavenger looking for metal and coins.

This beach has always held a mirror to my purpose. Years ago, while I was still married, I had a spiritual reading with a mutual friend on this sand with a man who channeled Archangel Michael. His message was simply, " Dear one, do what brings you joy." Although I wasn't happy with the response and expected something a bit more dramatic. I realized over the years he gave me a blueprint of what was to come. During the pandemic, right before I made the cross-country leap to California, I received an invitation to reconnect with Michael again on Zoom. At first I hesitated, because I was knee deep in a crumbling marriage and didn't have the trust or interest to be bothered. However, I have also been fascinated by angels and my discovery of numerology and seeing angel numbers. I finally signed up last minute right before the session started. The facilitator shared a disclaimer that while on the call, our questions for Michael could be answered by another person's reading. After he consulted with every person on the call that seemed to cry once childhood conversations about their childhood came up, he got to me and asked If there was anything I felt I needed to know.

I replied, "No, I'm good." His moderator seemed a bit surprised and asked again, Ty, are you sure? So I proceeded to ask the same question I asked when I was on Venice Beach.

The channeler "Michael" looked at me and said, 'Dear one, what brings you joy? You have always measured your value by what you do. You are simply enough. Live in joy.'

Walking that mile in the dark with an empty pocket, I was forced to face that truth again. Without my cards, without my cards, Creative Director identity, and without the cash that usually dictates my moves, was I still enough? I walked, I pulled out my spiritual ammo. I started repeating my affirmations: I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am loved, I am heard. These declarations weren't about what was in my wallet. It was about the rhythm inside me that doesn't require validation. I had to keep my frequency high even while my mind was calculating the loss.

When I finally made it back to my original spot, a young guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Are you Tyrone?"

Rarely do I hear my full first name used outside of legal verification or people who knew me from childhood. Nor did I have enough focus to cringe at the possibility of being serenaded again with Erykah Badu's hit, "Call Tyrone". I quickly said yes, and he held my wallet up.

"I have your wallet," he said.

Everything was there. The cash, the cards, and my license were perfectly intact. I hugged him and asked how I could repay him. He told me his name was Hudson, just smiled and said, "You don't owe me anything. I’m glad you found it. Thanks for coming back."

Hudson holding up my wallet was more than a lucky break on the boardwalk. It was a moment of preservation.

Venice Beach Drum Circle at sunset.

You either love Venice or fear the stereotype of it being a place that only attracts "eccentric"

beachgoers and people living on the streets. But good-hearted people like Hudson who are there for community are the heartbeat of that beach. In a place where people often look right through you, Hudson chose to look directly at me. He waited. He made sure a stranger got his identity back.

While I was walking in panic, I also knew I had a digital backup of my license on my phone and my computer. For me, losing these belongings would have been a headache and a long line at the DMV. But in my work within the unhoused sector, I see a different version of this story play out weekly.

For those experiencing homelessness I often work with, that ID is the only key to a locked door. In the unhoused sector, a lost wallet isn't just an inconvenience. It can be an eviction from society. Without documentation, you can’t verify who you are to get housing. You can’t start the job that was supposed to change everything. You can’t even pick up the medicine you need to stay stable. If you lose your "secondary" papers like a birth certificate at the same time, you are at a standstill. Without support services, it's a challenge to rebuild your life with stability. In a whole system built on documentation, if it’s gone, you can become invisible in your own city.

I think about Hudson in a different light now. He didn’t just save me from a long walk home. He saved me from the hole that the most vulnerable fall into every day. He saw the name on that card and made sure I was found.

That is the real heartbeat of the beach. It is about looking out for each other and making sure nobody gets locked out because of an empty pocket.

Like he said, I did return.