Today I lost my focus.
Lost my hocus pocus.
Today I lost a wing.
Today I lost a thing.
When something vanishes, it takes something from the inside of you out, it harvests an internal sector, robs you of more than just itself, something else, somewhat other, a piece of you vanishes along with it, that part of yourself that was related to, interacting with, the external object you lost.
If we lose many things all at once, as often happens, much of the self seems to be hijacked, erased, stopped.
As the former sense of self slows down and recedes from center stage, who can be really sure what will replace it? A better or worse version of you? What are you when a certain thing is no longer there to define and shape a segment of you?
We have no idea how attached we are to something while attached to it in a normalcy mode. But when it changes or departs, we know everything all of a sudden, the shock hits us like a bullet with a frowning face.
When loss occurs, the self, the entire personality becomes hardened and strange, becomes other, becomes what it could never have already imagined or avoided.
The odd geometry of psychology solving hidden problems deeply within.
I did not lose anything.
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2 comments:
the husk of creature comforts must be removed if any progress is to be made toward the perception of ultimate reality. we must be made uncomfortable before we realize that something is missing.
Right. BTW, my wallet, the undisclosed object of this post, was returned sans cash and coin. Someone tossed it into a mailbox, and I had to go to the local post office to retrieve it.
I just hope that the person who took the money out of my wallet needed it more than I did. This is what my former old school drinking buddies used to say all the time. They acted totally unconcerned about having things stolen. "They must have needed it more than I did, if I really valued it, I would have protected it better."--they'd say.
the universe's re-distribution system, equalizing poor and rich.
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