I was reading a comic book version of the story of Ananda. In it, he and a number or his noble friends decided to depart from their worldly lives and go ordain as monks to follow the Buddha. Heading out into the forest to find the Buddha they stop along the way and decide to disrobe of all their finery. In the story it says that since they are going to become monks, they don’t need these things any more.  That moment, the giving up of what is not needed any more –without any pain, or anguish, or fuss — really struck me. It got me to start thinking about what it means when I think I still need something versus don’t need it any more.

Again, I thought of that Corvet I rented on my road trip to Florida. I had planned to drive it from Orlando to Miami and when the trip was done I returned it without a fuss. I felt no sorry, no regret, because my trip was done, I didn’t need it anymore. Why didn’t I think I needed it anymore? Because I imagined no further continuation of my journey; my vacation was over, my plane tickets to fly home from Miami already purchased, my mind was already spinning a new story. Just as Ananda and his cohort had already imagined up a new future for themselves in the monkhood.

On the other hand, when I think I still need something –when my mind is still wrapped up with a future I imagine with it, when it is still MINE — there is tremendous suffering when I part ways with it. When I lost my wedding ring, I was inconsolable, after all, I still NEEDED it. I needed it to prove my status, to prove I was someone beloved and cared for, to prove my worth and my specialness. After the ring was lost though, after the thing I NEEDED left me, life went on.  The world kept turning,  I remained beloved to my husband and my marriage kept-on-keeping-on.

I get so obsessed, open myself up to the pain of loss, because I imagine future needs. But in truth, once something is no longer with me, how can I possibly need it anymore? Not having that thing simply means there will be a different future, one in which, by defection, I can’t possibly need the thing I don’t have any more in order for it to occur. What I mourn isn’t an object, it was the future I imagined I would have with it: I mourn the loss of something I never actually had.

Years later, I don’t actually miss my wedding ring at all. Not only has life moved on, but my imagination has too: I built a new imaginary future, using new objects (like a Porsche) to ‘prove’ my specialness and worth.  And while I go about claiming new things, things I NEED to populate my new imagined future, I am laying the groundwork for new pain and despair when those new things inevitably leave me as well.   Maybe it is time to re-think what it is I actually ‘need’.