You own nothing, and neither do I. September 22,2024

 

September, 22, 2024

Sunday Meditation

You own nothing, and neither do I.

The process of aging out of the system is filled with difficulties and irony.  The process starts way before it begins or so at times it seems.  Life is given to us, sometimes, I think grudgingly.  It is as if the angels know we have to do our tour of duty here on earth, for some reason known but to God. But there are things different between man and angels.  It seems that as soon as we are born, God starts the clock ticking in bits of code buried deep in our DNA.  The obituaries are clear that some are destined to leave life early, and some will be the last ones to be taken.  Death is so final and unstoppable; “...leaving 3 small children without a..., taken suddenly as he pulled up his socks....,  after an extended…, their battle has ended...., outlived 15 siblings....”.    We stop, but leave the motor running, to pay our respects, grieve our grief, and then we move on, for we must, as the world stops for no man.  Memories fade, eventually bleached white, and disappear and that is a good thing.  Man was not created to bear the loss of his precious, (whatever it was), for forever. 

I sometimes wonder how we chose what we chose to hold so tightly to.  We are so self-mislead!  A Spanish conquistador plants his flag upon the beach and proclaims in a loud voice, this land for the king!... and the gold and silver for his own counting house. A few years later the king's dead by poison and the conquistador by a mosquito bite.  but the land and gold remain. For some, choose money, it matters not the currency, but money and lots of it. Others it’s power, or fame or acres and acres of land they call their own.  The poor, who own nothing, are not exempt.  They grasp as tightly to their grimy life as you do to your house and bank accounts.

When it is all said and done and the final betted pot is divvied up and the dice polished and put away, it makes not a wit of difference whether you are an American bank president or a nameless Pakistani ship breaker.  Naked you came into this world, naked you passed through this world and naked you will leave this world.  As the poet so eloquently says, “No, you own nothing”.

  The Moment, by Margaret Atwood

The moment when, after many years

of hard work and a long voyage

you stand in the center of your room,

house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,

knowing at last how you got there,

and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose

their soft arms from around you,

the birds take back their language,

the cliffs fissure and collapse,

the air moves back from you like a wave

and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.

You were a visitor, time after time

climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you.

You never found us.

It was always the other way round.

bobb