"Where shall I put this?" asks the porter.
Who is wise enough to advise that it be totally dispensed of?
Jeez, where do we get all this crap?
My home is so beautiful, and never will I forget to
praise the excellent taste of the Angel Anne
whom all the other Angels exult
but do I own it really? Like the mystic of Nazareth
"Can you add an inch to your heighth?"
and those titles and awards and any accomplishment
even your relationships with the most precious of loved ones,
do we own them?
certainly we can appreciate them, especially in the moment
but what lingers?
As far as things go, there is nothing we own as any real extension
to ourselves. And who can harm you? Caesar? What is the worst he can do?
Kill you? But are you harmed in that transaction. Have you been touched?
Only if you let yourself. Naturally your body has been changed. Duh,
"you're dead dude." But the you of you or the consciousness of you--
hmmm, the debate will be unending won't it?
I say no though. You are free of your body.
So what do we own? The decision to be affected by things.
You own that decision. The anger and grief and fear and worry--
those you own, until you release them.
It seems to me we only own one thing. Behavior.
In my case, which is most often misbehavior.
But what about that misbehavior as a memory?
Has it become guilt? Has it become worry? Does it create fear?
Is it real? In a sense yes.
Perhaps best to put it in its place.
Ah yes. Let it rest there and I will rest