Part I: on losing and possessing (people)

Recently, I’ve been losing several friends and close ones, both out of necessity, out of their will and my own. Because of it, I’ve learned to not be afraid of the possibility of “losing” anyone.

But in truth, there is no such thing as “losing” anyone, for the simple fact that I can never “possess” anyone. To “possess,” in the word’s most perfect form, would mean to have total control over something. To control, further, requires knowing something in its entirety. That is, to know it in its whole being, from its beginning to its end. To know every single detail about it, so that I am able to predict exactly what happens to that something until it ceases to exist. Which then carries with it expectations–expectations for precisely how that something will continue to exist, and the context by which that something will no longer exist. To possess something then, would essentially mean that I would be the god to that something.

From this, it becomes impossible for myself–for anyone–to truly possess anything, because I cannot fully know the course and end of anything. I cannot truly “possess” a pen, because that pen is susceptible to misplacement, theft, or breakage, and I cannot predict such occurrences. I cannot possess money, because likewise, money is susceptible to the same courses and outcomes. Even more so, I cannot validly claim that I possess another person, because I have too limited comprehension of that person.

People (and objects) only fall within our sphere of influence–we cross paths with each other, and (as crude as it sounds) we merely experience these people. Therefore, we cannot lose anyone; in other words, we cannot validly claim that we have, because we cannot lose something that we never even possessed in the first place.

When someone can no longer be near us, and when we can no longer experience the person, we may mourn for what can no longer be, and in appreciation for what was. We can mourn in such a way, and to do so is totally plausible, in fact we should; but we cannot be angry. To be angry would have meant that something has failed, or that something did not go the way we intended it to go, which implies that we had something in control which we failed to control, when in fact there was nothing to control. Controlling anything is god-like, and thus impossible; we can only influence.


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