Possessions

[Guest guest]

Possessions

 

By Dr. Sarada (Ramana Way)

 

There is a flower blooming in the garden. It has just opened its

petals in the morning. The gentle, cool breeze carries its fragrance

to the road so that passers-by stop and turn and look and smile. The

flower nods back at them swaying gracefully with the breeze. The

dewdrops glisten like many jewels that adorn this little beauty. Rays

of tiny rainbows rise and dip from these drops. A child is crying,

the mother points to the flower, the bawling stops, Ôpoo, poo, lisps

the child. Another is walking by with heavy gait and suddenly chances

upon the blossom, pauses,looks, a soft smile lights the face and the

step that continues is light too. A lovely woman comes by. She too

stops, reaches out, plucks the flower, puts it in her hair and moves

on. It is over, the wonder of the flower, the marvellous mystery of

its dance in space, free, belonging to all. Soon it will fade, no,

wilt and dry. It is no longer a flower, it has become a possession,

someone s belonging, someone s property or attribute. It has ceased

to be itself. True, it would fade and drop off even if it were on the

plant. Yet, how infinitely more beautiful, more magical it would be

in belonging to none and so belonging to all. It would live in

fullness, not wilt in a day. It would dance in freedom not be choked

in a single position, held in place by a painful clip. It could drink

of sunrise dew every day, it could whisper to the winds and listen to

the melodies of birds, the chatter of squirrels and the chirping of

crickets at nightfall. It would drop into the soil from which it

arose, not be buried in some garbage heap.

 

We limit all things by seeking to possess them. And we limit

ourselves by our possessions. The more we possess, the greater we

believe we are. It may be material objects that we wish to acquire,

money and all that money can buy. Vehicles and houses, clothes and

jewels, artefacts and instruments and rare collections, strange

collections. The material battlefield of not merely keeping up with

but being at least one ahead of the Joneses. It may be social status

that we wish to possess. A higher and higher position, membership in

exclusive clubs, right contacts in the right places, power, the area

of bureaucracy and politics. Or else the seeking of emotional

possessions. Wife or husband, sons and daughters, why, even friends.

They are mine, we say. We wish them to be ours. If they seem to care

equally or more for someone else we are upset. The famous bouts of

jealousy, the infamous quarrels between mother-in-law and daughter-in-

law, all spring from the need to possess the person. This is the

field of domestic warfare. The tumult of little joys and deep

disappointments, of excitements when one captures attention and hurt

when the captive attention breaks loose and turns elsewhere. Then, of

course, the combat-ground of intellectual dominion. Hoarding

knowledge, more and more of it. About what? About the nature of cells

or the origin of the universe, the nuances of a comma or the single

shade of a melody, the turn of a hand or the shift of a look in

dance. Or of all these put together in order to earn the title of a

Shatavadhani , one adept at performing a hundred tasks

simultaneously.

 

Yet do we really possess anything at all? Is it not mere transfer of

place, a name on paper or a mental image that we really effect. We

possess a saree. We have transfered it from the shop to our cupboard;

it is true. Yet the servant-maid or the washerwoman may wear it

without our knowledge. It may get carried away by a petty thief, or

be confiscated by the state with all our other properties. If it were

our very own could it ever be taken from us? It is no longer ours.

Even while it did belong it was so only because of certain

prescriptions, certain social norms which give us rights to use it.

If it were our very own would it not be with us always? Would there

by any need to acquire it? And could it ever be taken from us? No

material object is ours in this intimate, constant sense. At best we

are guardians and storekeepers with whom certain limited rights rest

for a brief time. This is true of all physical objects, including the

body which we take to be the very self. Any part of the body can be

taken from us at any time, by accident or force, by disease or decay.

>From a little finger to a major organ, parts of the body can be

removed and replaced. The whole, of course, deserts us at the time of

death. If at all we do possess it, it is only for the brief interval

between birth and death and it comes with no guarantee or warranty

about its functioning or life expectancy. Such of our dearest most

intimate physical possession. Of power and social status not much

need be said. What are they but titles, names on paper, small

documents in a file which empower one to attain greater material

benefits that are in turn, no possessions at all. And what of

relationships? Can we ever possess a person? We may use illegal

bonded labour or child labour, we may keep our spouses or children

obedient by instilling fear, yet the people can never belong to us.

They may fly the coop any day. They may destroy the bonds of

suppression and break free. Their bodies may serve us but can we have

any power over their minds, their thinking, their soaring

imaginations? Neither can we possess by showering care and affection

for there may be no response or else the child or the friend may

suddenly have a change of mind, just an impulsive whim and cease to

care for our caring. Even if they are fond of us, does that mean we

possess them? It only means that some of their thoughts are given to

us. And from our point of view, it means we can satisfy ourselves

with the image of being loved, of being thought well of. What more

does this possession amount to?

 

Our intellectual achievements seem to be our very own, do they not?

Knowledge of language, power over words. Knowledge of music, power

over sound. Knowledge of dance, power over movement. Knowledge of

science, power over certain elements. And in all understanding of

technical matters, remembering many facts pertaining to the subject.

What is this possession? It is the transfer into my memory of certain

facts that are already recorded somewhere, of certain practices that

are pre-existent. With a loss of memory, with a problem in the brain

all knowledge can be wiped out.

 

All that we can possess is not ours for ever. They are all things

that existed before us and will continue to do so after us, though

the form may be modified. What have we achieved by possessing them?

Added our name to the list of owners and users. No more, no less. And

what have we got from doing so? Abiding happiness? Immortality?

Absolute Awareness? Perfect peace? No, what we have gained is the

sense of limitation. From This body is mine, we move on through

growing possessiveness to I am the body . I am a teacher, a king, a

scholar. I am considerate and affectionate. I am a father. I am a

child. I am one who loves. I am one who is loved. I am neglected. I

am honoured. I am intelligent. I am creative . We are possessed by

that we have sought to possess,are limited by that which we wish to

limit.

 

The most magical things in the world are those which we cannot

possess (though we try hard). The mountains and the seas, the skies

and the breeze, the burst of creation in spring, galaxies upon

galaxies of ever moving stars, space itself. The innocence of a

child, laughter that springs from abandon, love that knows no

boundaries, that includes everyone and everything, that shines in the

eyes, that wafts from the smile of the Sadguru. Yes, infinitely

magical is the one who revels in the Self having renounced all. How?

By renouncing the possessor, the one wishes to possess, the primal

possession, the I am the body idea. Yes, the most magical is he, our

Bhagavan, who reveals that possessing nothing one possesses the

entire universe.

 

 

Hari Aum !!!