A family member leaves an Eckhart Tolle book, which ends up in my multiple book rotation. Currently, Gray Ghosts and Rebel Raiders anchors the bedroom, My Silent War, by Kim Philby can be found in the kitchen, and Tolle ended up in the mudroom. Usually, a subhead like “Awaking to Your Life’s Purpose” would trigger a cringe and drop reflex. But skipping forward we find this:
Many people don’t realize until they are on their deathbed and everything external falls away that no thing ever had anything to do with who they are. In the proximity of death, the whole concept of ownership stands revealed as ultimately meaningless. In the last moments of their life, they then also realize that while they were looking throughout their lives for a more complete sense of self, what they were really looking for, their Being, had actually always been there, but had been largely obscured by their identification with things, which ultimately means identification with their mind.
Lately, my life has been bookmarked by my wife’s parents quickly declining toward death, and my newspaper web position being eliminated just before Christmas. But I look at this photo of the Charlie Brown tree and remember a quiet gathering with friends during the holiday.
All things depreciate all of the time. You begin and end with absolutely nothing, but the patterns, ideas and love you have shared.