Attachment
Attachment is something I find myself thinking about again and again.
How do we do so? Why? And how do we chose those objects of our attachment? Why do we decide to let go? When is it right to do so?
An old friend has come to town, like Santa Claus. But not come to save me. Come to celebrate something I cannot, with people I try not to think about. This situation would have had me in tatters a few years ago. But now, I barely blink. I smile supportively and genuinely.
But to my great surprise, I find myself breathing easier now that he is here. Like I'm supported in ways I can't describe in things he knows nothing about.
It's funny how I'm so attached to those who existed in an era I have long ago left behind. How I insist on resurrecting or giving primacy to that time. What is it about those marks that only I can see from impressions left long after you've gone?
How do we do so? Why? And how do we chose those objects of our attachment? Why do we decide to let go? When is it right to do so?
An old friend has come to town, like Santa Claus. But not come to save me. Come to celebrate something I cannot, with people I try not to think about. This situation would have had me in tatters a few years ago. But now, I barely blink. I smile supportively and genuinely.
But to my great surprise, I find myself breathing easier now that he is here. Like I'm supported in ways I can't describe in things he knows nothing about.
It's funny how I'm so attached to those who existed in an era I have long ago left behind. How I insist on resurrecting or giving primacy to that time. What is it about those marks that only I can see from impressions left long after you've gone?
posted by venbot | 3:56 p.m.
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