Understanding the fleeting nature of “Happiness”
Realising you’re happy and consequently puncturing that happiness—is a manifestation of the self-reflexive quality of human consciousness. It reflects our ability not only to experience emotions but also to have thoughts about those experiences, including the experience of happiness. At the most immediate level, we have sensory experiences and emotional reactions. These are our raw, unfiltered engagements with the world around us. But atop this immediate experience, we have a secondary layer of experience: our thoughts about our experiences. This secondary layer is where we interpret, judge, anticipate, and reflect.
The paradox here is that this second layer of experience can intrude upon and alter the first. By realizing we’re happy, we move the experience of happiness from the immediate realm into the realm of reflection and analysis. This can have a distancing effect, making the happiness less vivid and more abstract. The “self” that is experiencing happiness is no longer fully integrated with the experience; part of it has stepped aside to observe.
The awareness of happiness can also bring about a sense of sadness or melancholy. This is because our reflective consciousness is not only evaluative but also temporal; it exists in time. When we realize we’re happy, we also realize that the moment is fleeting, that it will pass. This injects a sense of loss or nostalgia into the current experience, dampening the happiness with a layer of sadness. There’s also the pressure that once identified, the feeling of happiness must be maintained, which turns it into an object of concern.
In some Eastern philosophies, for example, the ultimate state of happiness or enlightenment is one that transcends both happiness and sadness, existing in a state of pure “beingness” that is beyond dualities. Western philosophies often engage deeply with the notion of existential angst, the idea that human freedom and awareness are both a gift and a curse, capable of both elevating and diminishing our experiences. Humans are narrative creatures. We don’t just experience things; we also construct stories around our experiences, which become a part of the experience itself. Realizing you’re happy can sometimes feel like a narrative high point, a climax. But climaxes are, by their nature, transitional; they mark the point where a story begins to move toward its conclusion. This can create a sense of impending descent, which can tinge even the most joyous moments with a shade of melancholy. There’s a compelling argument to be made for the richness added to our lives by our ability to reflect on our experiences. This meta-experience, the experience of experiencing, adds depth and texture to our lives. It’s the thing that allows us to appreciate art, to fall in love, to engage in complex moral reasoning. But it comes at a cost: the cost of immediacy. The more we reflect on our experiences, the less we’re able to engage with them directly. It’s like being the actor and the audience at the same time. This dual nature of consciousness is both a blessing and a curse. While it allows us the richness of introspection and self-awareness, it also sets up a scenario where the observer can interfere with the experience.
When you realize you’re happy, you’re essentially stepping out of the experience to label it. The moment you do that, you bring in the concept of time. Emotions, when lived, are timeless. They’re states of being. But when you observe them, you also acknowledge their temporality—they become moments that have started and will eventually end. This implicit understanding of the fleeting nature of happiness casts a shadow on the experience, thereby altering its composition and introducing elements of sadness or anxiety.
The awareness of happiness can trigger broader questions about the nature of existence, purpose, and meaning. Happiness is often viewed as an ‘end,’ a goal in life. Once achieved, its realization can create a form of existential vacuum, a questioning of ‘what next?’ This moves you out of the emotional experience and into a cognitive one, involving existential questions that can often be more unsettling than comforting.
Your realization also exemplifies the duality inherent in life experiences. There’s a push and pull between opposing forces: happiness and sadness, awareness and ignorance, temporality and timelessness. Some philosophical traditions, particularly those from Eastern philosophies like Buddhism, suggest that the ultimate state of enlightenment is one that transcends this duality to experience a state of ‘oneness.’ In that state, the act of observing happiness and the experience of happiness itself become one unified experience, without a division that could puncture the emotion. When we experience happiness, it often fits into a story we have about what makes us happy and why. This narrative self can be in constant tension with the experiencing self. The act of realizing you’re happy is a narrative act—it fits this moment of joy into your broader life story. But life stories are complex and filled with ups and downs. Fitting a moment into a narrative can mean subjecting it to all the complexities and contradictions of that narrative, which can dilute the purity of the experience.
On the one hand, mindfulness and self-awareness teach us to observe our feelings, thoughts, and experiences. On the other hand, the very act of observing can sometimes alter or even negate the experience, particularly with transient states like happiness. In quantum physics, the observer effect refers to changes that the act of observation makes on the phenomenon being observed. In psychology, too, observing one’s thoughts and feelings can change them. This is the basis of therapies like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), where the act of observing and questioning one’s thoughts can lead to emotional regulation.
When you realize you’re happy and become acutely aware of that happiness, you might also become aware of the fleeting nature of emotions. This could potentially lead to a decrease in the intensity of your happiness, making it a self-limiting state. The joy is punctured by the awareness of its temporary nature or by the anxiety of losing it. It’s crucial to distinguish between mindfulness and hyper-awareness. Mindfulness means accepting each moment as it is, including your happiness, without clinging to it or fearing its loss. Hyper-awareness, on the other hand, involves scrutinizing the experience so closely that you can’t simply be in it. You’re essentially stepping out of the experience to examine it.
Some of the ways to deal with it:
1. The first step in navigating this paradox is to accept the transient nature of all emotional states. Once we make peace with the ebb and flow of life, the realization that our happiness is temporary becomes less threatening.
2. Aim for a detached form of observation. Observe your happiness without clinging to it, just as you would observe your breath during meditation.
3. Shifting the focus from “Being Happy” to “Being”. When your focus is simply on ‘being,’ without labeling the state you are in, you eliminate the self-imposed pressure to sustain any emotional state, be it happiness or otherwise.
4. Often the anxiety of losing happiness arises from either past experiences or future uncertainties. Dwelling in the present can alleviate that concern.
Perceptions – Consensus Subjectivity vs. Objective Truth
Perception is the process by which sensory information is interpreted, organized, and consciously experienced. This involves not just the mechanical aspects of sensation, but also the psychological elements that interpret and prioritize this data, often filtered through individual beliefs, experiences, and cultural norms. Perception is an interface between an individual’s interior world and the objective reality surrounding them.
In a perfect, objective world, there would be a single, indisputable truth about everything. But humans aren’t perfectly objective beings; our cognitive and sensory apparatus has its limitations. A snake perceives heat differently than a human; a dog perceives scent differently than a human. While the world itself might possess a “universal truth,” our ability to perceive it is shaped by our limitations. If you act with “100% completeness,” it would mean that you have acted in full alignment with your capabilities and intentions. But people perceive your actions based on their own sets of experiences, expectations, and biases, not necessarily based on your intentions. Hence, perceptions can vary even for a universally “complete” action. While the act itself might be independent, its interpretation is not. That’s where perception comes in. Perceptions may be “limited” and “formed by other or for other,” but they play a critical role in social dynamics, ethical considerations, and interpersonal relations.
People rely on perceptions because it’s an accessible way to interpret and navigate the complex world. But it is essential to differentiate between individual perceptions and collective or societal ones. The latter often serves as a “consensus reality,” providing a common framework for communication and understanding. So, while perceptions are limited by their very nature, they are a necessary component of human interaction and society. The real issue arises when perceptions are mistaken for objective truth, ignoring their inherently subjective and conditional nature. We can indeed question the “reality” of different perceptions and argue that they’re all illusory in some way, but as long as humans have subjective experiences, perceptions will continue to differ. And in that diversity of perception lies the complexity, and beauty, of human experience.
Question: can we have any objective experience?
The notion of “objective experience” is a bit of an oxymoron. Experiences are inherently subjective because they are mediated by individual sensory apparatus, psychological states, and sociocultural backgrounds. However, certain frameworks try to minimize subjectivity to get as close to “objectivity” as possible. In the scientific method, for example, experiments are designed to be replicable regardless of who performs them. The idea is to eliminate as much human subjectivity as possible so that the results point to some “objective” truth about the world.
There can be cracks in achieving objectivity in scoring or mathematical experiments as Measurement tools are designed and interpreted by humans, who bring their own sets of assumptions and limitations to the table.
When a majority of individuals agree on a particular experience or observation, this doesn’t necessarily make it “objective” in the sense of an unchanging truth that exists independent of human perception. Rather, it forms a “consensus reality”—a shared framework of understanding that facilitates communal living and communication. While this consensus reality may be treated as “objective” within a specific cultural or social context, it’s not the same as a universal truth that holds across all times and places.
For example, money is a societal consensus. We agree to give paper and metal tokens a certain value. Within the context of a particular economy, the value of a dollar or euro is an “objective” fact, but this objectivity is contingent on shared belief and participation in economic systems. The material paper has no intrinsic value; its worth is entirely constructed and agreed upon.
However, Truth, in its purest form, shouldn’t have different meanings or interpretations. In philosophy, something that is “objectively true” would be true regardless of individual or cultural beliefs—a universal fact. However, accessing or understanding such truths is a challenging endeavor precisely because we are subjective beings.
Understanding Confidence: Beyond the Binary of “more” or “less“
It’s a term thrown around often, in self-help books, motivational speeches, and even casual conversations. But what exactly is confidence? Is it an intangible force that some people possess while others lack, or is it an inherent aspect of every individual that remains unaffected by external circumstances? Let’s dive deep into this paradoxical phenomenon.
If one looks closely, the term has been constructed based on societal norms and standards. It is believed that certain behaviors, decisions, or characteristics project a sense of certainty, while others indicate a lack of the same. Over time, these beliefs have formed the structure we identify as confidence. However, considering the vast spectrum of human emotions and the varied circumstances everyone faces, is it valid to classify them under the binary of confidence and its lack?
For instance, a deer running from a predator is often acting out of fear. However, the very act of running, the determination to escape, indicates a level of confidence in its ability to survive. Similarly, when a person is fearful, that fear doesn’t necessarily negate their confidence. The act of acknowledging fear and responding to it can be viewed as an act performed with complete confidence in that particular emotion.
While it’s argued that confidence is unaffected by external situations, one can’t deny the impact of external validation on perceived self-worth. A student praised continuously may seem more confident than one who’s always criticized. But this brings forth another question: Is the confidence of the praised student genuine, or is it a facade built upon external validation? The underlying belief here is that true confidence remains unaffected by external factors. It is an internal compass, guiding one through life’s challenges. The student who seems less confident due to criticism might very well have an inherent belief in their abilities but chooses not to display it openly.
The intricate relationship between fear and confidence is captivating. While at first glance, they might seem opposing, a deeper introspection suggests they coexist harmoniously. As mentioned before, acknowledging fear can be an act of confidence in itself. Embracing one’s vulnerabilities, doubts, and fears can be seen as the highest form of confidence because it stems from self-awareness.
If we view confidence as neither a trait one can gain nor lose but as a constant presence, it reshapes our understanding. In this perspective, every act, regardless of its nature, is executed with full confidence. A person displaying apprehension is confidently apprehensive. A person in doubt is confidently doubtful. Modern society often categorizes confidence in degrees – more or less, high or low. This categorization restricts our understanding. When we say someone is “more confident,” we’re comparing their current state to a previous one or juxtaposing them against someone else. However, by acknowledging that every act is executed with complete alignment to a particular emotion or state of being, the need for comparison dissipates.
Confidence, in its true essence, is not about loud declarations or silent sufferings. It’s about recognizing and accepting the inherent completeness in every emotion, decision, and action. It’s about understanding that every response to a situation, be it with enthusiasm, fear, doubt, or joy, is done with utmost confidence in that response. If confidence is inherent, it would imply that any action performed in a state of fear, joy, or doubt is done with a level of assurance. In a crisis, for example, a hesitant decision to call for help is executed with as much confidence as a swift decision to solve the problem. This inherent nature of confidence, therefore, suggests that the concept is not binary but rather a spectrum, or perhaps beyond a spectrum—a state of consistent existence.
When we look at external circumstances affecting confidence, it becomes apparent that this so-called “influence” is transient. If confidence is genuinely inherent, then external factors may create an illusion of change but cannot alter its core. That said, constant external validation can create a clouded perception of self-worth, often mistaken for genuine self-confidence. The distinction between inherent confidence and externally-induced confidence is crucial for holistic understanding. If confidence is a constant presence, the degrees of “more” or “less” cease to have real meaning. It suggests that everyone, at any point in time, is fully committed to their actions or reactions, be it hesitancy or decisiveness. In such a framework, everyone is performing at their own level of 100% confidence tailored to the specific situation or emotion they are dealing with. Therefore, to say that one is ‘lacking’ in confidence is to misunderstand its inherent nature.
If every act is performed in complete alignment with the emotion or thought process governing it, it removes the need for comparison or valuation, which are tools the ego uses to identify itself. The notion of someone being “more confident” than someone else arises from a place of duality, from distinguishing the self from the ‘other.’ When one’s existence is in complete harmony with the intrinsic nature of confidence, these comparisons become irrelevant.
Whispers of the Quiet Quest!!
Silent seeker’s quest
In the realm of the silent seeker’s stride,
Where bridges burn, and shadows hide,
A journey deep, through time’s vast tide,
To realms within, where truths reside.
The witness stands, on shores of mind,
Observing life, to ties unbind.
Yet comes a time, the seeker finds,
To transcend watch, and life entwined.
For what’s an end, but a new dawn?
A realization, a reborn fawn.
Not a destination, but a stretch yawning wide,
A shift of soul, where truths reside.
Observer, witness, names do vary,
Yet their essence, one mustn’t miscarry.
A silent gaze, detached, unweary,
In the dance of life, a step so necessary.
The ego’s song, a siren’s call,
Binds the soul, in a webbed thrall.
But in awakened states, its grip does fall,
As vastness reigns, over the minuscule and small.
Time, a river, flowing swift and sure,
Past’s lessons, future’s lure.
Yet in the present, lies the cure,
To manifest dreams, pure and pure.
Intention sets the compass’ needle,
Visualization paints the dream’s easel.
Emotion fuels, action’s sequel,
And gratitude wraps, life’s upheaval.
In the dance of duality, the rhythm is profound,
Yet beyond the beats, a silence is found.
For in the heart of existence, where truths are unbound,
Lies the song of the soul, an eternal sound.
Love and Longing – A paradox ??
The experience of longing for love is universal and deeply rooted in our humanity. This longing, often described as an unquenchable thirst, is both a blessing and a burden, driving us to form connections, seek fulfillment, and explore the depths of our own emotions.
Delving into the realm of quantum physics, there’s an intriguing principle known as quantum entanglement. It suggests that two particles, once entwined, will remain connected irrespective of distance. A change in the state of one will instantly affect the state of the other, no matter how far apart they are.
Drawing a parallel to human emotions, particularly longing, one could argue that individuals form ’emotional entanglements.’ The sense of connection might not be physical but is as intense, enduring, and mystifying as quantum entanglements. This could be the reason why, even in separation, our emotions remain tethered to another person, place, or memory. Longing is a complex emotion that can arise from various sources. At its core, it’s a yearning for something that seems to be just out of reach. We might long for a loved one, for a sense of belonging, for an idealized version of the world, or for a deeper connection with ourselves.
Our longing for love can be seen as a biological imperative. Our ancestors who formed strong social bonds and felt a deep connection to their kin were more likely to survive and reproduce. As a result, the longing for love and connection is deeply ingrained in our genetic makeup. Our experiences shape our emotional responses. For instance, early attachment experiences with caregivers can influence our future relationships and how we perceive love. Similarly, our psychological makeup, shaped by both nature and nurture, affects how we experience longing.
The relationship between love and longing is paradoxical. On the one hand, love can make us feel whole, bringing joy and fulfillment. On the other hand, it can also create a sense of longing, especially when faced with separation or unfulfilled desires. This tension is often evident in poetry and art, where love and longing are intertwined in complex ways. When we are in love, we often feel a sense of completeness. The world seems brighter, and we may experience a deep sense of contentment. This feeling arises from the connection and emotional intimacy that love brings. In these moments, longing may fade into the background. Despite the fulfillment that love offers, it can also create a sense of longing. When separated from a loved one, the intensity of our love can manifest as a deep yearning for their presence. This longing can also arise from unmet emotional needs, unfulfilled desires, or the idealization of love.
Love and longing are not mutually exclusive; they often coexist. The very act of loving someone can make us more aware of their absence when they are not around. Similarly, longing can intensify our love, making us cherish our moments of connection even more. This dynamic interplay adds depth to our emotional experiences.
Longing is not a singular emotion; it encompasses a range of feelings, including hope, desire, melancholy, and even pain. Longing often involves a strong desire for something or someone. This desire can create a sense of anticipation, making us look forward to future possibilities. The act of longing can be both exciting and agonizing, as we await the fulfillment of our desires. Longing can also be rooted in the past. We may long for a time when we felt loved, accepted, or understood. This sense of nostalgia can be accompanied by melancholy, as we realize that the past cannot be recaptured. Sometimes, longing arises from idealization. We may create a mental image of the perfect partner, the ideal life, or a utopian world. These idealized visions can make us feel discontented with our current reality, fueling a sense of longing. Longing can be painful, especially when it feels unending or unrequited. The intensity of our yearning can create a sense of suffering, as we grapple with the gap between our desires and reality.
Wrestling with the feelings associated with longing can lead to deeper emotional intelligence. Through introspection, we can learn more about ourselves, our needs, and our desires. Understanding the root of our longing can help us address underlying issues or unmet needs in our lives. everyone has felt it at some point. Recognizing this shared experience can foster empathy towards others and deepen our human connections. By understanding our own feelings of longing, we become better equipped to empathize with others.
Life is characterized by dualities: happiness and sorrow, presence and absence, fulfillment and yearning. While these might seem contradictory, they often exist side by side and give depth to our experiences.
Presence in Absence: Even in the absence of what we long for, there’s a certain presence of that object or person in our thoughts and emotions. This phenomenon speaks to the power of our minds and hearts to transcend physical limitations.
Completeness in Incompleteness: The very feeling of longing suggests that there’s something we deem essential for our completeness. However, the journey of life is about realizing that, in many ways, we are already complete in our incompleteness. The gaps and spaces create room for growth, evolution, and understanding.
Stability in Flux: Our feelings, including longing, are in constant flux. They come and go, intensify and wane. But beneath these changing emotions, there’s a stable core of self, a foundational aspect of our being that remains unswayed.
Amidst Peace!!
What brings you peace?
In the vast expanse where desires entwine, Detachment emerges, a beacon so fine.
While many chase starts, and beginnings anew, It’s in the echo of endings where peace rings true.
The tempest of life, in its fervent embrace, Urges us forward, a relentless race. Yet peace isn’t found in the heart of the storm, But in letting go, in a formless form.
In the depth of the night, where visions lie deep, Peace flourishes best where eyes don’t leap. For too often, our sight might lead us awry, But in the unseen’s embrace, our worries will die.
Seek not in the masses, the throngs or the crowd, Turn to the self, silent, not loud. For deep in one’s core, past chaos and spin, Rests the sanctuary of peace, glowing from within.
When we chase after shadows, our energy spent, It’s the introspective journey that’s heaven-sent. So remember these thoughts, when the world feels askew, Peace is an inside journey, forever true.
Is harmony defined by us is really harmonious ?
The universe operates on a balance. Dualities like light and dark, joy and sorrow, and so on, are not in contention with each other but rather two sides of the same coin. They provide context and meaning. It’s akin to understanding that one cannot truly appreciate light without having known darkness. Our existence is enigmatic, where a myriad of elements interplay in a vast cosmic dance. Every action, no matter how minute, sends ripples across the fabric of the universe. Such is the interconnectedness and oneness that defines the cosmos. But amidst this vastness, we humans grapple with the age-old questions: Why are we here? Why do we feel disconnected when everything is intrinsically connected? And, why is our life, despite being a part of this vast universe, so often defined by duality?
Consider the universe as an immense symphony, where every entity is like a note, contributing to an eternal, harmonious melody. From the most massive stars to the tiniest organisms, everything is in sync, vibrating in tune with the universe. This sense of harmony is a constant, even if it’s not always immediately apparent. However, the human experience often feels at odds with this cosmic harmony. We frequently perceive life through the lens of duality: good vs. evil, happiness vs. sorrow, success vs. failure. Such bifurcations arise primarily from our mental frameworks, shaped by societal norms, personal experiences, and evolutionary predispositions.
In our evolutionary journey, the human brain developed cognitive systems to categorize, discriminate, and simplify the complex stimuli of the external world, making it digestible and navigable. This cognitive system is a survival tool, enabling us to swiftly identify threats from non-threats, edible food from inedible, and so on. Over time, as societies became more sophisticated, these dualistic mental models began to govern not just our interactions with the environment but also our self-perception, aspirations, and relationships. This dualistic approach further feeds into the illusion of separateness — a feeling that we are distinct from the rest of the universe. Despite being made of stardust and sharing common atomic ancestors with everything around us, we often feel isolated or alienated. Such feelings intensify when we face adversities, leading many to question the harmony and purpose of existence.
Our understanding of freedom is entwined with our perception of duality. True freedom is not just liberation from external constraints but also from internal ones, like prejudices, fears, and limiting beliefs. To break free from the life’s cycle, one needs to reconcile with dualities, recognizing them as constructs rather than inherent truths. As we delve deeper into the framework of existence, we find that duality isn’t inherently detrimental. Instead, it provides contrast, lending depth and dimension to our experiences. Just as the contrasting strokes of a painting give it life and depth, the dualities of our lives add vibrancy and richness to our existence. Without dark, there would be no understanding of light; without sorrow, the true essence of joy would remain unknown.
Much of our attachment to duality stems from societal and cultural conditioning. From childhood, we’re taught to label and categorize experiences: winning is good, losing is bad; happiness is desirable, sadness is not. Over time, these labels solidify into beliefs, shaping our perceptions and reactions. For instance, consider the universally accepted notion of success. Societal metrics of success often revolve around material wealth, social status, and professional achievements. However, if we were to strip away these conditioned beliefs and look at life through an unfiltered lens, we might find that true success lies in inner contentment, meaningful relationships, and personal growth.
Our fixation on the ephemeral aspects of life — fleeting emotions, transient experiences, and temporal possessions — further entrenches us in the duality trap. In the rush of life, we often overlook the eternal — the unchanging, omnipresent essence that underlies all existence. This essence, often referred to in spiritual contexts as the ‘Self’ or ‘Consciousness,’ remains unaffected by the dualities that play out on the surface.
By connecting with this eternal aspect of ourselves, we begin to view dualities with a sense of detachment. They appear as passing clouds against the vast sky of our existence, impactful in the moment but not defining our eternal essence. Aligning with the duality doesn’t mean becoming passive or indifferent. It means engaging with life wholeheartedly, experiencing every emotion, every high and low, but without letting them dictate our inner state. With heightened awareness, we can navigate the complexities of life with grace, recognizing the transient nature of our experiences.
This awareness doesn’t diminish our experiences but rather enriches them. When we embrace both the joys and sorrows of life with equanimity, we live more fully, more authentically. We begin to see challenges as opportunities for growth, failures as lessons, and successes as moments of gratitude.
Our perception of disharmony is influenced by our thoughts, emotions, and our attachments to outcomes. When we find ourselves in situations we didn’t desire or anticipate, our immediate response is resistance. This resistance, this non-acceptance, creates friction – a perceived disharmony.
The journey to non-duality is a continuous process of introspection, reflection, and growth. Various spiritual traditions offer paths to transcend duality: the Yogic tradition advocates for meditation and self-inquiry, Buddhism emphasizes mindfulness and compassion, while Taoism teaches the art of flowing with life, embracing both its yin and yang.
The common thread across these traditions is the idea of returning to one’s true nature — a state of pure consciousness, free from the constraints of duality.
Possessive possessions
As human beings, our relationship with possessions is multi-faceted and complex, steeped in a variety of psychological, sociological, and cultural influences. Why do we cherish and cling to material objects? How do these objects gain such profound significance in our lives that their loss can trigger profound distress?
The roots of possessiveness can be traced back to our earliest stages of development. Attachment theory, proposed by psychologist John Bowlby, suggests that as infants, we form attachments to our caregivers, perceiving them as a source of security. Objects, such as a favourite blanket or toy, can also become “attachment objects,” imbued with emotional significance and seen as sources of comfort and safety.
As we grow older, this tendency to form attachments does not diminish but simply evolves. We begin to assign emotional significance to a wider range of objects: a cherished book, a childhood home, a prized car, an heirloom passed down through generations. These objects are no longer just inanimate items; they become extensions of our identity, symbolic representations of our personal history, achievements, relationships, and aspirations.
These possessions reflect who we are, who we have been, and who we aspire to be. They’re a reflection of our interests, experiences, values, and dreams. A stamp collection is not just a bunch of stamps; it’s a testament to a person’s love for history and travel. A guitar is not just an instrument; it’s an emblem of someone’s passion for music and creativity.
However, our deep emotional attachment to our possessions has a flip side: the fear of losing them. The possibility of someone taking away our prized possessions triggers a fear of losing a part of ourselves, of our identities being eroded. This fear is the seed of possessiveness. We resist anyone interfering with our possessions, seeing such interference as an intrusion into our personal domain, a threat to our sense of self.
Our possessions also offer us a sense of control in a world often marked by uncertainty and unpredictability. In a life full of variables beyond our control, our possessions are something we can manage, organize, and control. This perceived control can offer us comfort, helping us navigate the unpredictability of life.
This dynamic of possession and control extends to our relationships as well. We might view our partners, friends, or family members as ‘ours,’ a part of our identity. In healthy relationships, this feeling manifests as a deep sense of connection and commitment. However, when driven by insecurity or fear of loss, it can devolve into possessiveness, stifling the other person’s freedom and autonomy.
Ironically, the attachment to possessions can create both a sense of fullness and emptiness. Fullness, because these objects can offer comfort, joy, and a sense of identity. Emptiness, because possessions, being impermanent, can be lost, damaged, or taken away. We might also feel empty when we realize that possessions, while they can offer temporary happiness, cannot provide the deep, lasting fulfillment we ultimately seek.
In this journey of understanding possessions, it’s critical to consider another aspect, the societal and cultural influences that shape our attitudes towards ownership and possession. Our societies, through advertising, media, and peer pressure, often promote materialism and the idea that acquiring possessions is a path to happiness and success. We’re constantly bombarded with messages that equate possessions with personal worth and social status. This reinforces our attachment to material objects, making them seem even more essential to our identities and well-being.
Take, for example, the car someone drives. It’s more than just a vehicle for transportation; it’s often seen as a status symbol, an outward sign of wealth and success. We assign value to the person based on the value of their car. This societal norm can significantly reinforce our desire to possess and protect our belongings, linking them directly to our self-worth and societal standing.
However, this attachment can lead us into a cycle of endless striving, where we’re constantly seeking the next thing to acquire, hoping it will bring us the satisfaction we crave. But as we’ve often seen, this satisfaction is usually temporary. The excitement of a new purchase eventually fades, and we’re left seeking the next thing, caught in an endless cycle of desire and dissatisfaction.
This cycle of possession and dissatisfaction is also reflected in our relationships. In an attempt to find security and happiness, we may seek to ‘possess’ people, to make them ‘ours.’ This can manifest in various ways, from the relatively benign (e.g., wanting to spend lots of time with a loved one) to the more harmful (e.g., trying to control a partner’s behavior or friendships).
When we treat people as possessions, we run into two main problems. First, people are autonomous beings with their own desires and needs, not objects to be owned or controlled. Trying to ‘possess’ a person invariably leads to conflict and harm. Second, like with material possessions, the security and happiness we seek in ‘possessing’ others are elusive. People change, relationships end, and the sense of security we hoped to find proves fleeting.
The idea of possession also often extends to the intangible elements of our lives, such as ideas, beliefs, and ideologies. These can also become ‘possessions’ we fiercely cling to and defend. For instance, political, religious, or philosophical beliefs often become integral parts of our identity. Just as with material possessions, we can react negatively if these beliefs are challenged, seeing such challenges as attacks on ourselves.
One reason we attach so deeply to these kinds of possessions is that they help to structure our understanding of the world. They provide a framework that makes sense of our experiences, giving us a sense of control and predictability. Therefore, when these beliefs are threatened, it can feel as though our whole understanding of the world is under threat, triggering a defensive reaction.
However, just as with physical possessions, this attachment can lead to problems. When we’re so deeply invested in a particular belief or ideology, it can close our minds to new ideas and perspectives. We can become rigid and inflexible, unable to adapt to new information or changing circumstances.
This rigidity can also lead to conflict with others who hold different beliefs. When our identities are so tied up with our beliefs, it can be challenging to engage in open, respectful dialogue with those who see the world differently. Instead, we may feel threatened by these differing viewpoints and respond with hostility.
Yet, one might ask, how can we not hold onto beliefs? Aren’t they necessary for making sense of the world? While it’s true that beliefs play a crucial role in our understanding of the world, the problem arises when we cling to them rigidly, refusing to consider alternative viewpoints or update our beliefs in the light of new information.
Just as we can enjoy material possessions without being attached to them, we can hold beliefs without being enslaved by them. This requires a certain level of open-mindedness, a willingness to question our beliefs and consider new ideas. It also requires a level of humility, an acknowledgment that our understanding of the world is always limited and imperfect.
By developing this kind of flexible, open-minded approach to our beliefs, we can avoid much of the conflict and suffering that comes with rigid attachment. We can engage more productively with those who hold different views, seeing these interactions not as threats, but as opportunities for learning and growth.
The concept of possessions, whether tangible or intangible, thus challenges us to reassess our relationship with the world around us. While possessions can provide a sense of security and identity, our attachment to them can also lead to suffering and conflict.
Abhishek Fanse 