Recently I endured an unexpected event that was both nasty and expensive. It felt like end of the world. Almost like a planned attack on a helpless, unsuspecting target, who isn’t able to afford such heavy blows, especially during this unprecedented time.
But in retrospect, the very bad thing that happened has reinforced how total allegiance to material things in ways that surpass reasoning of how we can’t control the ebbs and flows, is a ultimately a wasted endeavor.
While nursing my wounds, I was inspired to redirect my sorrows towards a more progressive path. Perhaps my growing dependency on Buddhist teachings is working wonders, and for that I’m grateful. But more importantly, it’s about getting older, and comprehending how there’s nothing morbid about embracing, for instance, mortality.
That in turn forces you to examine what it means to be born without the innate knowledge of the insurmountable process that lies ahead; a quest we never asked for, and yet our admission was granted — for better or worse.
Sometimes we choose our interactions, often times the decision is made for us, and while those attachments take on sentimental value that defines our life’s journey — sooner or later we are hit with the brutality of how we can’t assume ownership of what was never ours to boldly claim.
