Attachment only breeds helplessness and despair

I am, and was, rather fond of this aphorism I baked up earlier.

So fond of it that I plastered it on my Facebook wall to a rising crescendo of indifference, such as this pitiful life may afford.

Problem is that too many literal-minded and pragmatic killjoys won’t really bother to try and understand it beyond the superficial, one-dimensional state of its paper-bound existence.

Of course my tidbit of wisdom includes attachment to people. That goes without saying.

But it also includes attachment as a generalized reaction to our external, and internal, worlds.

We become attached to anything that is not us. Our environment is our magnet. We are helpless.

Attachments can be foods, ideas, philosophies, sounds, clothes, words…each little attachment we add to our Lexicon of Attachments whittles away at our sound nature, at our independence, at our precious autonomy.

No man is an island, I’ve been told, but the problematic falsehood is that we are all islands regardless of how much we delude ourselves into thinking that we are part of the mainland.

We are all islands and each grasp and clench of a foreign object not born of our island is an attachment.

We are weak.