there is a buddhist principle that really resonates with me. it says essentially that attachment is the root of suffering.

attachment can feel like a plan to me. a guide to get from here to there. the north star of goal setting. if my attachment to an idea or person or outcome is my mission, then the action and mindset i need to make those happen are easily defined.

this principle comes to mind so often because i am really, well, attached to attachment.

to be fair, i am less so now. i continue to work on letting go to what is, how i want things to be, what i think they should be and that ever present desire for some things to somehow stay the same.

because letting go ain’t easy for me.

so in many ways, i am still attached.

to having those i love in my life alive and well. to my pets being the same. to perfect moments. to what i want to happen. to feel a certain way. for the temperature to be in a certain range for a particular outing.

who wouldn’t? it’s probably one of the most natural things for humans to do.

but i find it draining. it takes a lot of energy to keep something impermanent (and out of my control) from changing.

i have a great little wire milk crate with clear glass jars on my table in front of the window. every week, i buy some fresh flowers to fill the jars. last week, i bought some really sweet little orange sherbet tea roses. i have enjoyed every day of their stay with me. from budded and whispering promises to teasing a peek. the day they, in unison, opened wide and then as they started to dry out and fade. i loved every single moment of their little rosy journey.

they are well and truly dried now. and as i looked at them, i realized that i wanted to keep them. save them. preserve this moment. i would hug and kiss them if i didn’t think it would knock off more petals…that is how beautiful they were.

‘yes, i will gather them together and put them in a little clear vase and i will love them forever’, i thought.

then the drain started.

their orange sherbet petals will be buried under daily doses of dust. i will see them and keep wondering how much longer i can keep the illusion of ‘that’ begone moment alive. eventually i will have to throw out their dusty, dried, sad little selves in the trash. i will mourn them long after they were gone. i would plant sadness where wonder once grew.

as the dust gathered on their dried petals in my mind i realized i was doing it again.

attachment is the root of suffering.

i took them out of the jar and laid them on the table. as the sun fell over them, i took their photo to remind me of that singular moment.

life is a series of singular moments. when i hold on too tightly, i miss that. i miss life.

i thanked them and put them in the trash knowing that we are both freer for it.

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