November 3
I have placed detachment above all virtue. For whoever wants nothing and has nothing finds nothing left in the way — he is free and empty and open.
On Detachment (freely rendered)
Listening mode
I have placed detachment above all virtue. For whoever wants nothing and has nothing finds nothing left in the way — he is free and empty and open.
Sometimes you stop hoping for something without having decided to. An answer you've been waiting on for weeks, a yes, a particular word from a particular person. One morning you no longer check, first thing, whether it has come.
The days become strangely light because of it. You listen again when someone tells you something, instead of wondering on the side what it means for you. Things that have nothing to do with your wish have room again.
The only hard part is giving this lightness its right name. It could be freedom. It could also be tiredness, a disappointment that has settled in comfortably. From the inside, the two feel much the same: less pressure, less expectation, less restlessness. And you can't simply make freedom your new goal without already wanting something again.
Perhaps the difference only shows if the message comes after all. Then you'll notice whether you open it as something that no longer concerns you, or as something you don't know yet.
