And now that I can’t find what I’m missing, I’m having unfortunate thoughts and feelings. I had a conversation just last night about the Buddhist philosophy of attachment and suffering. When we become attached to stuff – a person, a place, an object, a thing – anything – and then it disappears – for whatever reason – we aren’t too fucking happy about it.
It’s a bummer.
So – getting worked up over what’s missing isn’t going to help me get it back. And herein lies the opportunity to detach from it. It’s either that or walk around moping and feeling badly, and who wants to feel like THAT?! What else is a person supposed to do? Is this giving up? No. Not when the effort of trying to recapture it isn’t worth what’s missing in the first place. Surely whatever’s missing can be replaced. My sanity and peace are invaluable.
It’s a strange predicament.