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.
Life’s losses range from irreplaceable to somewhat manageable, and we won’t dare pit one instance against the other.
But the acute shock stemming from the suddenness of an unfolding crisis, that massacres what used to be a recognizable landscape of seasoned existence is a gripping phenomenon that both fascinates and humbles.
The day before shit hit the fan, I could never have fathomed that I was merely hours away from a life-altering experience, that would almost deplete the resources that I had delegated for my security — accordingly.
“We plan, God laughs.”
What a mischievous villain, God must be, to casually observe how we blissfully take ownership of the people and things that could instantly disappear before we know what’s up.
As visitors inhabiting an imperfect world, it’s ironic how the unrelenting search for happiness becomes the all-consuming quest that never lets up, even after we’ve accumulated the stuff that would typically apply to the generalized description of perfection.
Would loss be a lot easier to handle if we adopted the practice of non-attachment with the awareness of how transitioning officially begins the moment we gulp our very first breath?
The harsher outlook could enforce the finality of separation when the time comes, and we are unknowingly poised to receive a revised reality, that demands our ability to be uncannily adaptable to the abrupt rearrangement of our fragile disposition.
Nothing owned, nothing lost.
Regardless of the accuracy of that state-of-mind, it’s a daunting task to implement what that represents, when you’re still making sense of a senseless assault on everything you knew to be true.
Should you always stay vigilant, and prepare for the worst in order to cushion the blow of what is surely coming, or is it better to operate on a full heart, with the belief that you can be secure in the promise of what you have now, this minute, no matter the risk of what you hoped wouldn’t transpire.
One day we’re here, the next…gone!
It looks like the route we’re supposed to take has already been routed.
All we have is the certainty that nothing lasts forever, and while that’s a hard pill to swallow — it definitely elevates the worthiness of “here and now.”
Because tomorrow may never come.