Saturday, November 25, 2006 The notion of things By Rene Lizada Papa's Table
THERE is this story that the Buddha tells. It goes, "This land is mine, these sons are mine" -- such are the words of a fool who does not understand that even he is not his.
What things hold you? What things possess you? What are the things that you are unable to let go of? What possession possesses you?
They are varied, those things. It can be vanity, a car, a house, money, a title, a rank, a need so great, an insecurity masquerading as a virtue, a virtue disguised as a vice. It could be anything and if we are not careful the possession will possess you. It will take hold of us and it shall not let go.
We are all guilty of that, of being not able to let go of certain things. But there are others who seem to think that their possessions are their lives. They cannot and will not let go of that which they think defines them. They become so obsessed that they will give their principles for what they want or lust for.
Sometimes blessings are curses.
Years ago I knew of a man who was so enamored with his title that he forgot his friends and the things that truly mattered. He was so enchanted by his title that he became someone who I did not recognize anymore. He stepped on a lot of lives, said very hurting words, did stupid things and in the end he had a heart attack. And where is he now? Walking around in a daze.
No friends, no titles, only his limp walk carrying him along. He thought he would last forever. Still there are others who find their worth in things.
A write by name of Hillel wrote, "The more possessions, the more worry."
And yet the advice is not given credit as so many people cling to possessions as if their possessions would give them meaning. They amass wealth like it were some assurance of happiness and salvation. They gather money and things like some crazed lunatic thinking that these things will bring meaning to their lives. People who collect things have desolate desperate and empty hearts. There are people who simply cannot let go, there are those who simply will not let go.
What they do and what they are is so interwoven into who they are. Their what is their who. They make look gorgeous and pretty, they sound nice and smell great but there is an emptiness in the middle of the soul. An emptiness crying out so loudly that it screams so silently. And yet it reverberates to the very core of the person's existence. It touches every muscle, every strand and every cell of the person's being.
It reaches to the very soul and it screams its agony, an agony that has no reprieve. Pleasure is not happiness. That which they seek cannot be found in what they are. And what they are cannot fathom that which they seek. A person's worth, a person's authenticity is not found in money or jewels or titles. It is not found without. Our worth, our journey always begins in the interior, in the soul. In our hearts.
We have to let go. We have to yield all that we have, all that we own because if not then they own us. Only empty hearts hold on to things for they have nothing else. Only those who think that money and prestige can make a difference in their lives are desperate and lonely, in the end they shall be prisoners of their own doing. Their possessions will possess them.
One of my favorite stories is that of a man who goes to a house of a great man. When this ordinary person enters the house of the master he is surprised to see a bare house. No decorations, no ornate things. Just the master in a single chair.
The man asked the master, "Sir where are your possessions?" The master replied, "where are yours?" The man said, "I left them, I am just visiting, passing through." And the great man replied, "So am I."
We are just passing through. Whatever we have will be gone but we are eternal. We are spirit and endless. And how tragic that a lot of us exchange what is permanent for the temporary. C.S. Lewis once said, "We are far too easily pleased." We have exchanged the real treasure of our being for money and power and greed. The richness of our souls has been traded with the wealth of this world.
Think of it. Suppose you are wealthy and admired. Suppose you have a beautiful home and a garage full of cars. Suppose you are so rich that you can drown in your own money. And then suppose that you are in your deathbed. Will those things really matter?
Will they? People have sold their souls, people have given up their hearts for that which they thought were important to life. If you were in your deathbed and all your money was placed beside you, will you be able to bring it? Let go and be free.
