It looked like Eric’s job was going to be fully remote. Besides, his contract was coming to an end in the next few years, and we hoped we would have enough it retire. It was time to consider where to put down roots and build a life. Connecticut, which neither of us were particularly fond of, was always meant to be temporary, just a place close to Eric’s office.

We decided we would try out Pittsburgh – it was a mid-sized, affordable city, and it let us be closer to Eric’s family. When we visited, we fell in love with a house there and inquired about a purchase. The place was in default – bank owned – so there was to be an auction to determine the buyer. Eric and I signed-up to join the auction, scheduled for several months hence, and waited.

While we waited, we let our imaginations run wild: We considered the renovations we would make. The time we would get to spend with family. Life in our new neighborhood. With each passing day, our excitement, our delight rose to new heights.

When the auction day came, the home was already ours in our heads, we just needed to finalize the formalities. We were so sure we would be the highest bidders, there was only one other person signed-up for the auction and they didn’t seem all that serious. But at the last second, a dark hose bidder showed-up. A deep-pocked developer who convinced the judge to allow him to be part of the bidding, even though he had not followed procedure and signed-up in advance. Yup, you already know where this is heading — we lost the bid. We lost our house. We were crushed.

A few days later, I was thinking more about the course of events, about my disappointment, and it dawned on me – I was sad about loosing something I didn’t even have yet. Something I never had, and never will have.

The house was supposed to solve a future problem – giving us a place to live, a new life. My hunger is so pervasive, I am so use to it, that I don’t even need to relieve it to feel joy, just the belief I might relieve it later is enough to provide momentary contentment. But the other side is also true, just fantasy was enough to crush my heart with disappointment.

The thing about imagination is that, unlike reality, it is boundless. If I don’t even need to have to lose. My wants are infinite, my imagination on how to solve those wants, also infinite. So how can my dukkha be anything less than infinite as well?