Blog Dis
Possession is nine tenths of the problem
2024-12-03
As I see it, we're all guilty of being far too possessive of people and things. I like to believe that I don't have a possessive bone in my body. I'm not interested in holding onto past flames who are no longer interested in me, nor a part of my life, the way some men and women will do following a break-up; they find it next to impossible to let go, and either both or one from the relationship will continue to try and connect with their ex, almost as though they resent no longer being considered a priority. Blah! So much going on here, that I don't know which psychological explanation is best to assign to this behaviour. I've seen it happen with girlfriends who are regularly contacted by their ex, despite them outright ignoring them.
I don't consider myself to be a materialistic woman insofar that I surround myself with only the best of furniture or top of the line clothing, shoes, etc. On the contrary, my furniture would best be described as hodge-podge, an odd-mix of restored antiques and even a throw-back to the late 80s with a brick and board for my living room wall unit. And this is funny because when a colleague had dropped in for a visit, she wanted to buy my brick and board, so enamoured was she with my set-up. "New houses are not even built with bricks any more, so this is rare." My answer: "Not on your life. I love the convenience of being able to re-configure my brick and board. I use these bricks along with hardwood planks to build the unit, and I had painted the planks with a high-gloss black paint.
For me, it doesn't seem natural to regard your material things with awe and wonder because ultimately these things will not feed you or nourish your soul, not like say the way a book can stimulate your brain to think in a new direction or the manner in which a friend can make you laugh until you're about to pee in your pants. And as for music, please tell me how you become possessive over the ethereal qualities of music? Do you pocket the sound and declare to passers-by on the street that this piece of music was written for and about you so no one else is permitted to love it or to listen to it? This is what possession is all about, laying claim to a particular thing or worse, a person.
The minute you decide something is yours, this is also the exact moment when you've unconsciously agreed to forego possession of said item. But I shan't pat myself on the back too quickly, for their are in fact some things that are near and dear to my heart, stupid things, dumb and ridiculous things, meaningless and intangible, like my cappuccino machine. When I was first been gifted with it, it came with a glass carafe holder - a precise man-made object where the elixir of the Gods, coffee, is brewed to absolute perfection in my cappuccino machine and released in a searing hot stream, through the filter containing the Dark ground bean into the carafe, and then its ready for immediate consumption. I broke the phucker years back, shattering the glass carafe into a gazillion pieces all over my kitchen floor. I just stood there like an idiot too looking at all the broken pieces, cursing myself for having let the prized carafe slip out of my lazy fingers.
It's stupid to become possessive over anything, isn't it? I received this lovely gift from my sister who understood my passion and addiction for java in the morning, that special ritual which is part of my life. I cherish this machine and would never allow anyone to even operate it out of fear of them breaking the carafe, only for me to break it! Stupid, I know... possession is nine tenths of the problem. The minute you feel something or someone belongs to you wholly and truly, you might as well hit yourself on the head to remind yourself that at one point in time this thing will forever be gone, to leave your life, and to never return.
After I had broken the carafe, I spoke ever so briefly with my mom the same morning and when she asked how was my morning going, I explained to her sorrowfully what happened with the shattered carafe, and her reply didn't spare my feelings. "Oh, you poor baby!"
Not one drop of sympathy and rightly so. My mom has survived World War II, with her family having lost every single possession - I mean everything. Her family was forced to flee their country, to become refugees and they lived for years in a barn w/o electricity, running water, or even a washroom. She has seen the death of two of her newborns as a young married woman; has buried one husband, one brother in his early 20s; lost her mother to tuberculosis when she was only 18 years old, and all thanks to the war, dying two weeks before her wedding day. She worked her career in an unforgiving environment where death is par for the course - a local area hospital, so learned long ago that possession is a ridiculous occupation and past-time.
In the end, after much research and visiting umpteen kitchen appliance stores, I happened to venture into one random specialty store and I found the perfect stainless steel carafe that looked to be designed to fit underneath the spout of my cappuccino machine. And I was right! Rejoice! Let the birds sing! And this find, now regarded as precious, inspired me to pose a question to a friend who owns a monstrous sized house, several cars, huge backyard, and furniture that I would describe as luxurious. I asked, "If your house was on fire, what would be the first things you'd rescue before dashing out?" His answer: "Oh that's easy... my wife and our two birds." If I was asked this question, which is exactly what I'm doing now, I'd answer my coffee machine and however many travel laminates I could carry in both arms. 😆
So with these thoughts in mind, I shall leave you to your day. Enjoy it! Seize it! But don't wait too long to get going, bcus before you know it, the day is gone.
[Photos: My brick and board taken in my old apartment; it was a tiny place but don't let size fool you - I had many awesome moments in this place.]
I don't consider myself to be a materialistic woman insofar that I surround myself with only the best of furniture or top of the line clothing, shoes, etc. On the contrary, my furniture would best be described as hodge-podge, an odd-mix of restored antiques and even a throw-back to the late 80s with a brick and board for my living room wall unit. And this is funny because when a colleague had dropped in for a visit, she wanted to buy my brick and board, so enamoured was she with my set-up. "New houses are not even built with bricks any more, so this is rare." My answer: "Not on your life. I love the convenience of being able to re-configure my brick and board. I use these bricks along with hardwood planks to build the unit, and I had painted the planks with a high-gloss black paint.
For me, it doesn't seem natural to regard your material things with awe and wonder because ultimately these things will not feed you or nourish your soul, not like say the way a book can stimulate your brain to think in a new direction or the manner in which a friend can make you laugh until you're about to pee in your pants. And as for music, please tell me how you become possessive over the ethereal qualities of music? Do you pocket the sound and declare to passers-by on the street that this piece of music was written for and about you so no one else is permitted to love it or to listen to it? This is what possession is all about, laying claim to a particular thing or worse, a person.
The minute you decide something is yours, this is also the exact moment when you've unconsciously agreed to forego possession of said item. But I shan't pat myself on the back too quickly, for their are in fact some things that are near and dear to my heart, stupid things, dumb and ridiculous things, meaningless and intangible, like my cappuccino machine. When I was first been gifted with it, it came with a glass carafe holder - a precise man-made object where the elixir of the Gods, coffee, is brewed to absolute perfection in my cappuccino machine and released in a searing hot stream, through the filter containing the Dark ground bean into the carafe, and then its ready for immediate consumption. I broke the phucker years back, shattering the glass carafe into a gazillion pieces all over my kitchen floor. I just stood there like an idiot too looking at all the broken pieces, cursing myself for having let the prized carafe slip out of my lazy fingers.
It's stupid to become possessive over anything, isn't it? I received this lovely gift from my sister who understood my passion and addiction for java in the morning, that special ritual which is part of my life. I cherish this machine and would never allow anyone to even operate it out of fear of them breaking the carafe, only for me to break it! Stupid, I know... possession is nine tenths of the problem. The minute you feel something or someone belongs to you wholly and truly, you might as well hit yourself on the head to remind yourself that at one point in time this thing will forever be gone, to leave your life, and to never return.
After I had broken the carafe, I spoke ever so briefly with my mom the same morning and when she asked how was my morning going, I explained to her sorrowfully what happened with the shattered carafe, and her reply didn't spare my feelings. "Oh, you poor baby!"
Not one drop of sympathy and rightly so. My mom has survived World War II, with her family having lost every single possession - I mean everything. Her family was forced to flee their country, to become refugees and they lived for years in a barn w/o electricity, running water, or even a washroom. She has seen the death of two of her newborns as a young married woman; has buried one husband, one brother in his early 20s; lost her mother to tuberculosis when she was only 18 years old, and all thanks to the war, dying two weeks before her wedding day. She worked her career in an unforgiving environment where death is par for the course - a local area hospital, so learned long ago that possession is a ridiculous occupation and past-time.
In the end, after much research and visiting umpteen kitchen appliance stores, I happened to venture into one random specialty store and I found the perfect stainless steel carafe that looked to be designed to fit underneath the spout of my cappuccino machine. And I was right! Rejoice! Let the birds sing! And this find, now regarded as precious, inspired me to pose a question to a friend who owns a monstrous sized house, several cars, huge backyard, and furniture that I would describe as luxurious. I asked, "If your house was on fire, what would be the first things you'd rescue before dashing out?" His answer: "Oh that's easy... my wife and our two birds." If I was asked this question, which is exactly what I'm doing now, I'd answer my coffee machine and however many travel laminates I could carry in both arms. 😆
So with these thoughts in mind, I shall leave you to your day. Enjoy it! Seize it! But don't wait too long to get going, bcus before you know it, the day is gone.
[Photos: My brick and board taken in my old apartment; it was a tiny place but don't let size fool you - I had many awesome moments in this place.]
