Tag: Attachment

Hovering Over Possibilities

(Title image: Photo by Victor Rutka on Unsplash)

Since I’ve been writing about non-attachment, I wanted to follow up with a description of what it feels like for me.

As an example, I’m currently waiting on medical results for a family member. And I can promise you, there is a particular outcome that I really want. It’s the one where everything works out without any problems and you can look back at what transpired and wonder what you were even worried about. All good!

But that’s a best-case scenario, and wish as we might, it’s not a guaranteed outcome, even when we assume it’s a guaranteed outcome. When reality comes out worse, the let-down can feel intense. I’ve experienced that too many times.

Gently, gently. Allowing thoughts to come and go as they please without holding on or pushing away.
(Photo by Dmitry on Unsplash)

So I’ve taken to holding my thoughts lightly, like you would hold a little bird in your hand. Not grasping them, just keeping my hand open and allowing them to flit in and out of it.

It feels like I’m hovering over the possibilities of what might transpire. I am aware of the potential outcomes, but not holding on to them. I don’t push them out of my mind completely. Rather, I fuzz my view of them as if with a softened gaze.

Then time stops. And coming down out of what is swirling in my head, I turn my awareness to what is going on right now. Especially what my feet are doing. How my soles feel pressed against the floor. Focusing on the sensations.

Always, when the possibilities get too intense and clear, I return to my feet on the floor. If my recalcitrant mind continues to swirl, I focus on my hands and pour my senses into what they are doing: tying shoelaces, making coffee, doing the dishes—noticing the movements and pressure, watching my fingers. Once I’m anchored in my body, my awareness reaches out again.

I know those thoughts, hopes and fears are there. I don’t try to repress them. I don’t try to analyze them. They simply come and go, and I return to the calmness of where I am.

Admittedly, some days it’s much harder than on other days. “Letting go” is a practice, not a destination. But even brief moments of respite are welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s also something to be said about the underlying fear of waiting for responses, the uncertainty that weighs so heavily upon us. I’ve always felt that one of the toughest times of my cancer experience was when I was waiting for scan results, biopsy results, even doctors’ appointments. That was the real test of “hovering” and it was one that I did not handle well at the time. But thankfully, relief came in the form of a treatment plan, a.k.a. a certainty of sorts. No, it didn’t make everything better, but it gave me a path to focus on.

The Bliss of Non-Attachment

(Title image: Photo by PaaZ PG on Unsplash)

So, I have a silly little story about non-attachment.

During Memorial Day weekend, I placed an order with a Maine mushroom company humorously called North Spore. [Note: I am not affiliated with them in any way other than as a customer.]

I ordered two bags of drinking chocolate with functional mushrooms added. While I usually prefer my cacao unsweetened, I was willing to try this as it was a more economical purchase than the orders that I’d placed for “ceremonial grade” cacao. Additionally, I love mushrooms so I considered it a special treat.

I had had several stressful months with no significant break coming up, so I was really looking forward to receiving my package and its delicious contents—a little respite from the tumult that was my life. The package was scheduled to arrive on Saturday, June 7th and you can bet I was tracking its transit via the US Postal Service’s phone app. No matter what kind of a day Saturday turned out to be, I was already imagining enjoying a nice warm cup that evening, making things better in some small way.

Maybe you can see where I’m going with this? I was invested.

Saturday arrived…I received the delivery text…I ran out to our complex’s mailroom. But there was nothing in my mailbox. No package, no key to the larger package holding box, nothing. I groped around inside my mailbox, hoping that maybe I was just blind and the key was actually there. But no.

Frustration!

NOOOOOO!

And it was at that moment, as I was simultaneously (silently) cursing our mail carrier—who has mixed up mailboxes before—and praying that the key had ended up in the box of an honest neighbor, that I was hit square in the face by the suffering that attachment brings.

I had set up an expectation (honestly, a reasonable one), felt into it very deeply, and experienced that ache of having to rip myself away from it when things went in a different direction.

Had I been able to practice non-attachment, I would have taken this in stride. After all, the package was clearly misdelivered and may still show up, and if not, a trip to the post office would follow since I had a tracking number and the shipment was insured. It would have been easier to shake off disappointment because I would not have built up such strong expectations and hung so much on receiving my hot cocoa.

But alas, I am very much an imperfect human being who did a very natural thing in anticipating the arrival of my package, along with expecting the USPS not to louse it up. So after fuming and agonizing over the “unfairness of it all”, I decided to sit with all of this for a while: acknowledging that it made sense for me to look forward to receiving something to brighten my week along with the importance of not beating myself up for doing so; but also cajoling myself into releasing my grip on what I had so wanted as the outcome in addition to stepping back and getting perspective on the situation.

And then I felt better, like a big chunk of tension had been released. It’s not easy being human sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I realize that not getting a shipment of drinking chocolate is not a devastating outcome, and yet, even something so relatively insignificant felt like a big letdown in the face of expectation. So then, what about a potentially life-changing outcome? The effect could be brutal enough to upset one’s established foundation. It underscores the clinginess of attachment and when possible why we should strive to soften our need to have things be a certain way.