Imagined Property

Recently, whilst seeking protection from the rain, I sought shelter and found it in front of a closed tofu shop with a little dilapidated russet orange and faded brown cover. Prior to finding the shelter, I had been caught sight of something inspiring and was in the process of writing in my little inspiration booklet when this lady carrying the convenience of an umbrella walked down the stairs from the back and began blatantly staring at me.

Now, in hindsight and at the time I would have figured my presence would have unnerved any Japanese person finding a foreign person with shoulders cold and shuddering - but, it was not the eyes that put me on edge with the world it was what she said.

"This is my property."

Was what she simply let slip off of her lips. I immediately apologized and moved on toward my next temporary shelter from the insistent rain but found myself uncharacteristically angered and I could not for the best of me recall what had given my a rather sudden headache. And then it hit me in a wave. This woman had told me to get off of her property. Although considering the circumstances I am not entirely certain I would have not done the same as she, but the fact that I was huddled over suspiciously was nothing to compare with the fact that outside my little secure bubble - albeit transient - was sheering rain and me without an umbrella. However, as a Seattlite I fear no rain and quite honestly find comfort when the spirit of the rain seeps into my bones reminding me of the temporary harsh nature of life; yet, in my trance of inspirational creativity, I could care less.

Unnecessarily sensitive to my surroundings as per recently, I thought that this woman honestly believes that the ever-altruistic ground beneath her two inane feet could actually be under her control. The utter randomness of the event was enough to unnerve me, however, more than that, was the almost beautiful timing - what better time to test one's altruism than with a foreigner out in the rain with no umbrella for what some consider 'protection'. No doubt the woman failed, and I do not mean that merely because I entered 'my own home' drenched, as stated prior I could honestly care less, but she taught me in turn a valuable lesson.

Imagined Property...

We are all guilty of it. It was ingrained in our capitalistic, money-grubbing little minds since we were tykes and we all know how nearly impossible it is to removed societies invisible bonds - shackles really - around our hands. Speaking as an English speaker the usage of 'my' and other such pronouns showing ownership over something else is proof of that innate and insane societal idiosyncrasy. Nonetheless, what we consider our own is hardly so. Once we disappear of the face of this Earth, what will remain ours other than our soul...and who even knows if that is ours or will continue on after we pass?

I am not entirely sure where I heard this from, yet I had heard in any case that some philosophies consider our bodies to be mere vessels to encase our aetherial souls and that what really make us something is that soul. To continue on further, some philosophies state that not even our souls can be considered our property - and I am sure many of you have experienced this when you find yourself doing something that you had originally not intended to do; instinct if you will.

And to promulgate this idea further, perhaps redundantly for if you perceive it as such I apologize, if we do not even own ourselves how can we possibly own land more so other property. The woman in her secular suffering imagined that a designated space of land that had existed eons before our species even breathed its polluting first breath could be considered her own. I could not help myself from grinning at this realization after the fact - I found myself sorry for her and uncharacteristically proud of myself in that I broke her imagined property and made her attempt to assert what she had originally believed to be hers in the first place. Utter hilarity.

There seems to be somewhat of a correlation between variables of control and security - and such a relationship reveals an aspect of humanity that is most definitely taken for granted. Here is my current hypothesis...tell me what you think.

More control. = More insecurity.

Less control. = More security.

If this woman could handle her own addiction to control and let it go when the case arises she would not have to assert herself so and could enjoy what was really around her and write in her own little book as well...