| Thinker : Being : Attachment | |||||
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I'm looking around at the people near me and the strangers I see and I realize that all people are like me. In one sense this is a revelation that I am not strange, in another, a revelation that all those people, and you, are not strangers.
Sitting at the kitchen table, reading about the recent floods, I pondered, what would it be like for me to have the roof ripped off of my house? I realized how distraught I'd be at losing all of my familiar things, the wealth of accumulation built around me. Then I thought, well, how will I feel when I die? I'll regret the loss of these things even more than if I merely lost my house. What will be the hardest to give up when I die? and it seems to me that the imperative that I must accomplish, do things, to declare and prove my worth and value will be the hardest to give up. I will die and as I do so , I may cling to the need to do something in the world. This clinging might draw me back stronger than any desire for materialism. In death, I lose my body as well. What is more precious than that? than the visceral, rich, luxurious feel of my own flesh, the warmth of my blood, the tingle in my finger tips and lips, the taste of the air in my nose. Won't I long to keep that experience? The importance of keeping the experience is above all other imperatives. What is the most precious quality of life? —memory. If I don't hang on to my memory, then what do I have? nothing. I am nothing without memory. I don't know me, I don't know who I am if I don't have memories. What is the most precious thing? identity. My identity is my most valued possession. Without identity, how can I have anything else? When I die, I hope I don't find myself so drawn to a need for an identity that I want one at any cost or sacrifice. Let me choose carefully. |
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First written Wed, Dec 2, 1998 Last published Wed, Jun 2, 1999 |
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