I’ve been thinking a lot lately about possession. What does it mean to own a thing? What can be owned and what cannot? It seems that the conventional ideas about ownership (e.g., my car, my house, my land) are just fine so long as we don’t really believe them, seeing them them as legal/social constructs they are.
Ask: do I own my kids? Do I own my body? My mind, identity, feelings, thoughts…? An interesting exercise to try is sit for 30 seconds and try to not take each of the above personally: don’t take thoughts personally, don’t take ideas personally, don’t take body/pains personally. Can you do it?
I have no interest here in some esoteric contemplation of non-dualism but to say that in contemplating mortality this topic becomes relevant. Most of us identify with our bodies and our experiences – which I’ve seen firsthand can lead to all sorts of issues and complexes. The fundamental issue it seems to me is one of attachment in a fleeting universe. To what do we attach – what exactly are we anchoring to? What is healthy attachment?
Thought experiment: What would it be like to relate without bodies? And I don’t mean on slack:). I mean what is the really essential part of you that relates? Is it actually your body, your ideas? So I’ve been interacting with my kids on a different level lately and in the moment asking myself what it might be like to relate to them on some separate, disembodied plane of existence. It leads to some interesting outputs: Would age matter? If not does sequencing become irrelevant (i.e., who came first). And if true we would then be entities floating around without a parent-child relationship… so then do we become equals? What would it be like to erase roles with one’s child. Of course this would go all the way back to one’s parents, grandparents etc. After all, it seems there’s not much that gives one the power in the relationship beyond that. So then we are humanity and the differences stem from embodiment.
I’m left only with respect for the process of life of which we’re a part, including of course, and the idea of sequencing which cannot be eliminated (else chemistry/physics stop working – things only go in one direction).
The approach I try to take is that my body and possessions are on loan. That my kids are on loan. That actually helps me bypass feelings of over attachment (everything goes in the end, might as well get to terms with it). I’ve come to the conclusion that ownership is a word I’d like to use sparingly. Instead I’ll default to stewardship, to me it seems more truthful. Why does it practically matter? All of our molecules get recycled, dust to dust and all that. As Carl Sagan rightly noted, we are
made of stardust. Thus Let’s get out of the clouds and apply this to real life. I’ll try this on for my current situation: • Case 1: ◦ framing -> I am/I own this body and I get cancer. I must save it or else I die and everyone around me suffers. ◦ motivation -> scarcity; pushed by fear. Action born of fear to save the body because I’m attached to the body as it’s my identity. ◦ commentary -> You see, my identity is inseparable from the body. Hence the cancer is me. To me that provokes fear and negativity that I find non-helpful and actually it doesn’t resonate with truth. Moreover I’m attached to my family, friends, etc. so there’s a downward spiral of fear and increasing stakes that can easily (for me anyway) lead to paralysis, which is clearly unhelpful. • Case 2: ◦ framing -> this body is on loan (stewardship!) and it gets cancer. I must save it or I’m deprived of the opportunity to care for this amazing machine and all the good it can do. ◦ motivation -> abundance; pull toward opportunity. Positive action born of the opportunity to heal this body, do good in the world, for my family and serve the future. Purpose ◦ commentary -> Note that ‘I’ am disembodied. I act as the transcendent carer of things. Way more helpful attitude.
VERY IMPORTANT: note that to fight like fucking hell happens in either situation, no difference there. The key distinction is the motivation, the energy source, the fuel. While this setup works for my particular disposition, setting the conditions for great outcomes is a personal matter. I’ve always liked the image of a musician tuning a guitar – music comes from strings pulled to the right tension; too tight or too loose results in noise. I’ve never done great work when my motivational strings have been pulled too tightly in the direction of fear. Rather I’ve always preferred a fire under my butt (e.g., stakes) but disproportionately biased toward play, freedom and pleasure in the fight (10% fear, 90% play if I had to guess). So it could be this is all just a mental psych. Then so be it!
I’ll echo a sentiment from a great local dharma teacher, Eugene Cash. Does this cancer bother me? On one level yes, I do not like it. But on another level it really has nothing to do with me.