On Unattachment

“Hey, did you move that bag?  I could’ve sworn I left it on the floorboard, and now it’s on the seat.”

He asked me this as we climbed back into the car after spending the afternoon roaming around parts of downtown Minneapolis.

“No, I didn’t touch it.”

I looked back and saw that the gift bag we’d just picked up from the Walker Art Center (no relation) was, in fact, sitting on the back seat.  My stomach started to do flip-flops as he repeated what he’d just said about having placed the bag on the floor, and realizing it had moved.

About the same time, I noticed shards of broken glass sprayed on the backseat of the car, and as my stomach sank further I looked up confirming what I’d just realized – the back window of my mother’s SUV that we were borrowing for the day had been smashed and the bag had been moved.

Thankfully, what was ‘valuable’ in that souvenir bag was only valuable to us, and was still there.  Unfortunately, what had been left on the floorboard of the backseat was my almost-brand-new DSLR and a purse containing some personal information.  I had my wallet and phone on me, so those were safe.

A Violation of Things

I started to mentally and emotionally process what had just happened: in the couple of hours that we’d left the car in the parking garage, we’d been robbed.  The car had been broken into, my purse was gone, as was the not-cheap camera that I’d barely owned.

I deliberated how to process this and went a bit internal.  I felt violated, as our personal property had been damaged and rummaged through.  I felt simultaneously fortunate that none of my mother’s things were damaged, and I felt sadness at the loss of the pictures I hadn’t yet uploaded.  I recognized that I felt sad and somewhat annoyed, but I wasn’t devastated, even though something kept telling me that I should be.  I just lost hundreds of dollars worth of personal belongings and the security of my identity and credit were also at stake.  Why was I not reeling in anger?

Rewiring Our Perspective

Our culture tells us that we should be attached to our things, indignant when those things are violated.  That my appropriate response would’ve been to freak out, lash out, beat myself up over all of the things I “should” have done – things like take my purse/camera with me.  I considered these things, all the while wondering – what would it serve me to be angry and lash out?  How fair would it be to blame myself for someone else’s actions?  Overreacting wouldn’t bring back my camera, wouldn’t replace the window, wouldn’t go back in time and change what had just happened.  At worst, I felt annoyed that I have to call about checking accounts and social security numbers.

I realized that, in general, I’m not attached to my things enough that I was that upset over their loss. We discussed this most of the way home – the lightness that comes with unattachment, and how that doesn’t mean I don’t value things, but rather attach myself to people and experiences, not to physical things in my life that I own or have acquired.

Perspective and Detachment

Sunday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long, long time – and I’ve had a LOT of good days lately.  It would’ve been really easy for me to let this incident suck the joy from the rest of the day, but it simply didn’t.  Not because I made a deliberate decision that I had to force myself into; my perspective was just one that took this particular bummer in stride.

Downsizing has been a priority of mine over the last year or so to prepare for and support this desire for a more mobile life.  In doing so, I’ve been growing less attached to the things I have and more conscientious of the experiences I enjoy instead; it’s fitting that the relationship I’m in expands on that, and we’ve built the pursuit of and investment in shared experiences, rather than the purchase of things, into the very soul and foundation of this relationship.

Will I replace the camera?  Maybe.  Is it a priority?  No, because the memory of my experiences is caught first within myself, second through sharing it with someone else, third with pen and paper, and finally on film, so by the time we get to the need for a camera, I’ve already committed experiences to memory and legacy.

It’s a common reminder in a yoga class to acknowledge our surfacing and distracting thoughts and to then let them pass, not attaching meaning or significance to the mind-clutter, the citta, that gets in the way of revelations and enlightenment.  I suppose that’s found it’s way off the mat and into my own brain, as I’m slowly learning what and who to attach myself to, and what and who to let go of.

And it’s liberating.

Tagged as: Yoga