Yeah. It’s a broken bowl. It’s a Royal Austria O&EG bowl. It was my great grandmother’s..she gave it to me shortly before she died.
UPS broke it. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a bowl.
I’m able to say that NOW- two days later. At the time I was pretty fucking pissed. It holds sentimental value that is absolutely priceless.
My husband said he would glue it back together.
My grandmother would have said, in this situation…go buy another bowl.
It’s an attachment to an object, to be sure. It is the cause of my suffering, of course. What does the Buddha say about attachments to “stuff” ???
like grass after rain
For anyone overcome by this miserable craving
And clinging to the world.
Sorrow falls away
Like drops of water from a lotus
For anyone who overcomes this miserable craving
And clinging to the world.”
It’s a funny thing nowadays- clinging. I am able to recognize it, when it arises (which is pretty big progress, right?) That doesn’t mean I’m always successful in not giving in to the desires and attachments to happiness and meaningless objects that probably make me borderline hoarderish. I do get over shit much more quickly though…I’m able to say, “That doesn’t matter- it’s not real.” And I was even nice to the UPS guy today when he came to apologize.
I don’t raise my children as Buddhists or Atheists. We just don’t raise them as anything “religious.” They are free to explore religion on their own and come to their own conclusions. As they get older, they will be more inquisitive and I will help them find the proper sources for the answers they seek.
This is a tender age for them now. I must be very calculating in what I say and how I say it, as I don’t want to shape their opinions surrounding religious topics.
Today, during homeschool, we were reading “Little House in the Big Woods.” The family was celebrating Christmas, and read their Bible around the fire. My children wanted to know what “The Bible” was, and why the children weren’t allowed to talk or play on Sundays.
So began the delicate dance of giving them just-enough information. It went something like this:
“Well, Christians read the Bible. They go to church to be with other Christians and to listen to stories from the Bible. The Bible tells stories about God and Jesus. Christians believe that God and Jesus can do powerful and magical things.”
My middle child asked, “Like superheroes?”
Me, trying to hide a smile, “Yes, just like superheroes. And some people don’t believe that superheroes are real, right? Well, some people don’t believe that God is real either, but some people do.”
Then he got very serious and said, “Well mama, policemen and firefighters are the REAL superheroes.”
So much wisdom for someone so small.