Assigned value and attachment

I've been thinking a lot recently about the idea of what I guess I'd call "assigned value", in that meaning is self-defined as opposed to being inherent.

The situation that reminds me most easily of this is with photographs (be they digital or physical).  The idea of "capturing a moment" with a photograph is so ingrained into societal standards that it's sort of just a regular sort of ritual that accompanies so many things (birthdays, weddings, tourism, maybe even simply eating a meal).  I think the meaning of photographs has changed significantly over time, in large part due to the ease at which they can be taken, though perhaps this is also in part due to my own personal experiences having shifted.  Social media I think has also redefined the purpose of photos; oftentimes they are used more for sharing than they are for archival or remembrance.

There was definitely a time period when I had the realization that so many of the photos that I felt compelled to take did not actually hold any meaning, to myself or to anyone else.  Humans are notoriously bad (in my eyes, at least) at introspecting and being pragmatic enough about the future to admit that something is not actually needed (c.f. hoarders, "I'll definitely use this someday", "I'll get around to that later when I'm not so busy", and even "Yes, I can totally eat this amount of food").  Most of my beliefs and learnings come from empirical experience, so when I looked back and realized that I never cared to look back at many of the photos I had, it eventually trumped any sort of "fear of missing out", as they call it.

But I think this extends past the archival properties of photos and into the sharing aspect as well.  Sharing a photo has no inherent meaning in and of itself -- the meaning is derived solely from the individuals that it is shared with, and also one's self-meaning in the act of sharing.  I'm not trying to say that it's a waste of time to do things that people don't explicitly derive meaning from.  In the end our lives will come to a close; that doesn't mean all of our experiences were "useless" if they didn't hold external value.  If you feel that you gain meaning by keeping a private journal, or taking a photo of every meal you cook, or writing a review about every movie you watch, then no one can argue with that.  But I think we shouldn't lie to ourselves about what these things actually amount to in the end.

Those "precious family heirlooms" may be very symbolic in nature to you but to the next generation they may end up being nothing more than materialistic burdens.  That example in particular is something that I believe will become much more common as the disillusioned millenial population ages.  This is an age group that I feel is well familiar with climate change (my state is burning down again this year...) and has already struggled to deal with the weight of false promises of "the way to live life and be happy" from the previous generation, not to speak of weight of actual physical objects.

Anyways, these thoughts were poignantly on my mind as I gradually took down a good ~75% or so of the decorations on my office walls.  Perhaps if I was an individual more open to change over time I would have already done this a long time ago (many people perhaps stop plastering posters over all their walls after their teenage years?), but I do think having all of these things around me has brought me meaning.  Even I am not immune to the sands of time, and there are things that I move on from, too.  And I realize very well, perhaps too well, that one can only bring forward a certain number of things with them through time.  For me, that number may be higher than most, as I move more "slowly" across the years, but fundamentally it is still the same as it is for anyone.

I really noticed that initial feeling I had, that I needed to take a photographic record of all of the decorations that I had up in this place.  A sort of marking of this particular achievement or chapter of my life.  There is a voice that says "you should record this!"  But I asked myself what the meaning would be in this, and I realized that there was none.  Part of this comes from age, and the realization that many things really aren't a big deal anymore in the grand scheme of things.  Or perhaps I am just more realistic (pessimistic?) about who else would actually care about this sort of thing.  I don't mean this in a sort of "boo hoo, nobody loves me or cares about me, so why should I bother sharing my life" kind of way.  I mean this more in an existential sense -- that I am only one person, with one story, in this world.  Is it really worth my time and effort to record this thing?

I decided at that time that the answer was no.  Of course, only you can answer that question for yourself, and I'm sure the answer would be different for many people.  I think by the same token we can argue that many of our interactions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but clearly this is not always true as I'm still here writing and posting this blog entry.  This piece of writing which will someday fade into nonexistence.

When people think of Buddhism, do they think solely about casting aside all worldly and material possessions and trying to attain "enlightenment"?  Maybe it's hard som'etimes to find the relationship between that and to our modern lives, full of phones and computers and very strange (or at least I think so) systems of doing things.  But I think it can be very enlightening (pardon the pun) to understand how the idea of attachment functions in our lives.

There is a saying or story that I think about often about how "the cup is already broken".  There are many different versions of this parable out there, and I think people interpret it in different ways.  I particularly appreciate the version I was first told (or at least how I remember it), as I think it was especially poignant in capturing a feeling, despite perhaps being a bit off from the canonical version.

As it goes, there was a Zen student who had a fine teacup that he admired and used to drink out of every day.  Another student pointed this out to their master, that their fellow monk seemed very fond of this special cup.  The master listened to this, then walked up to the table, picked up the cup, and he lifted it high up into the air...........and then he placed it back down.  "Just remember," he said.  "The cup is already broken."

When I look for this story online, I think there are a lot of people who say it is about "being able to appreciate the things you have while they are still here".  Sort of the idea that something is precious because it will not last.  As a variant on that, I think there are people who take it to mean that we should make the most of things in the present.  That we should use that fine china set -- at the risk of breaking it -- rather than keep it locked up.  Because everything will eventually be "broken" in the end.  I think there are many who say that the point is mostly about this, about should come to terms sooner rather than later that everything will come to an end, and that we must accept this, in order to avoid future sadness.

The thing I like about this story is that the master did not tell the student what to do about the cup.  The master did not break the cup, he did not tell the student to treasure the cup while it still lasts, nor did he tell the student that he should not become attached to the cup.  He simply reminded us of the universal truth, that all things come to an end.  And I think the image of holding a fragile cup high into the air really evokes that thought in a very visceral way.  In that moment, I think you realize very clearly what you will feel when this thing is taken away from you.

As opposed to many of the other articles that are written about this story, I don't think there is a right way to confront this fact.  I think "this cup is very precious to me, so I should really value it while I still have it" is valid, but just as valid is the idea that "this cup may seem special, but in reality nothing materialistic lasts, so really it is not so special at all in the grand scheme of things".  It is up to each of us to decide for ourselves what we wish to attach ourselves to.