The Illusion of Ownership

It’s difficult to let go. Of our possessions, of people, of the past. We can even become attached to our expectations of the future and what we hope to happen. What is worse – letting go of something we are attached to or letting that attachment chain us to the wall?

Today I find myself looking at pictures of my house. When I bought my house, it was a foreclosure – it wasn’t pretty. Most people thought I was coo-coo to buy a house (on my own) in that condition. But it was cheap. And I saw potential. And my parents did too and gave me their support. Before I went to the closing to sign the final papers, I called my Dad in tears, “please, you have to promise me you’ll help me”. He assured me he would.

And he kept his promise, and my mother, too. They helped me fix up my little two-story brick and cedar house in a “transitional” neighborhood of Pittsburgh. They sanded the dirty hardwood floors and installed new plumbing so I would have water and a working toilet. My Dad installed ceiling fans and light fixtures and door locks. He carried my washing machine and dryer down the basement stairs (with my help, which is almost like saying “all by himself”).  My mother worked for hours cleaning closets and painting walls. She scrubbed the used stove that I purchased for hours, making it shiny and new. All this while enduring my bossiness and demands for perfection! They really are troopers. And I spent weeks staining my hardwood floors, scraping gunk off of the kitchen cupboards, and bleaching the bathtub so it was no longer black. It was a lot of work.

But when my house was fixed up well enough for me to live in and be comfortable, I wanted to make even more improvements, like remodeling the kitchen and bathroom. I wanted to do all of this so that a) I could sell the house someday and b) to have a nice home. That’s when my then 21-year-old nephew, Matthew, stepped in. He was going to school nearby and could work at my house in the evenings. He needed a job and I needed a cheap laborer I could trust. It worked out great.

Matthew and I worked on my house every evening, Mon – Thurs for about three months straight. It was hell. It was blood. It was sweat. It was tears. (Mostly my tears.) But we bonded and we had some fun, too. He installed new plumbing, knocked out a wall, moved a gas line, installed new electrical outlets, moved the duct work, installed a new hardwood floor, and tiled my granite countertops. I sanded, stained, scraped, cleaned, and painted until I had blisters and bruises.

With the help of my Dad,  a new ceiling, a new door, and a new window were installed. In the end, I had a beautiful kitchen that I was so very proud of, and of course, I was proud of my nephew, too. He was ever so resourceful, learning how to do things he had never done before. I was very lucky because 1) My nephew is smart as hell 2) My brother-in-law (Matthew’s dad) is a carpenter 3) My sister (Matthew’s mom), remodeled her kitchen about the same time I remodeled mine, allowing Matthew to see first hand how it was done.

It seems that when something is meant to be and you’re following your heart, things fall into place. It works out. People will help you, people will come in out of the blue (like my neighbor, Celeste, who taught me how to garden and prune my rose bush). The universe comes together and makes it happen.

I loved my house and I lived there for a little over five years. But things were no longer working for me, at least on a personal level. The world was no longer “falling into place”. I was struggling. And I wanted other things like traveling and expanding. So I rented my house and hit the road.

Almost a year later, without even putting my house up for sale, someone has offered me a decent price on it with a rent-to-buy option. This works perfectly for me. I want to leave, I will have to sell that house to buy another house, and I don’t want to sell it quite yet, as I’m not sure where I want to live.

I feel the world is working for me, not because this is “what is meant to be”, but because this is how I wanted it to be.

Still, I am having a difficult time letting go.  It’s been weeks and I can’t make a decision about my house. Why am I sitting here looking at pictures of my house and reminiscing? Why can’t I just pull the trigger and take the guy’s offer?

Because I’m emotionally attached to that house, that’s why. And it breaks my heart to let it go. But by clinging to it, I’m only limiting myself. I’m not expanding, I won’t be able to forge ahead. And that’s why this world works for you when you make positive changes in your life – when you try to go out of your comfort zone – when you try to grow big and be bigger and dare greatly.

Speaking of being bigger, I learned recently that the universe/space is always expanding. Space changes all the time. It’s always changing and seems to want more – more space, more planets, more life. A day on Earth is slightly (very slightly) longer than it was last year.

And as human beings, entrapped in this space-time continuum, we’re wired to want more also.  We’re supposed to go out and get whatever our hearts desire. In fact, some argue that’s the only point in life – to find joy, even in the middle of shitstorms.

But we can’t get anywhere if we cling to what we already think we have, even though we don’t actually “own” anything – the universe owns our possessions (and us), ultimately.  We can’t move ahead if we seriously think we possess anything and can’t let go of what we don’t really own. After all, I still have a mortgage, which means the bank actually owns my house, not me 🙂

My kitchen when I first bought my house.
My kitchen after the remodel.

 

 

Jami
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2 thoughts on “The Illusion of Ownership

  1. It is odd. I’ve been working on my house for many hrs/day for the last 7 yrs and yet one of my major goals in life is to NOT own a house or car. To me owning nothing would be the ultimate freedom.

  2. The real illusion is that you believe you owned “your” house at all. Like you said the bank is who owns it… kind of, or is it the county, the state, the nation, china etc. You pay taxes on your land every year, even if you paid your mortgage off you are still technically “leasing.” Anything you have that you consider yours can easily be taken away from you if you stop paying your accrued debt or reccurent debt. So how can anyone say they own anything in a commodified world?

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