Our, Yours, Mine...

I often think about the boundaries between all of us. (I suppose reading the Enders series and thinking about philotes and ansibles helps with this theory). We come into this world a pink and wriggling mass of potential. Almost immediately we are indoctrinated with "yours" and "mine". This is YOUR nose. These are YOUR toesies. Yes, that is YOUR truck, can you share it?

It starts that early. To assuage our sense of insecurity we are taught to put labels on things, literally. Things and people "belong" to us. At an early age we are taught about possession ( and, um I don't mean of the satanic variety. That is for another post). We find language that supports our need to express ownership. That darned philosophy tracks us down our entire lives, through loves, through money and property, weaving it's way through everything.

How different things could be if we relaxed our grip on the need to own everything, everyone. One of the huge lessons of my life these past years had to do with ownership in the context of relationship. I really craved a sense of belonging. I also felt very territorial about my partner (which, considering his hobby as a fine art nude photographer, was, well...to be expected). Having to let go of that love, and learning to let go of the expetation and hopes of another love someday coming my way was the biggest chore of the century for me. And, the most freeing.

I have had to learn about letting Go. Of expectation. Of need to own or belong. Of the desire to be "right" about things as little as how people should drive on the highway.

It is never about what you own or who you think you "have". It is always about how you see yourself in the face of those things.

Be a nice person. Be kind. Let go. You don't need all those toys to show the world who you are. Sit on that bench and think about it a little.