Splashing at the Surface

“Detachment” is a concept that exists within spirituality. For anyone who isn’t familiar with what detachment means, I’ll give a brief definition:

Detachment is the ability to separate oneself from thoughts, opinions, and outcomes. For visual learners: imagine being planted at the bottom of the ocean. Detachment is not fretting about the surface being rocked by waves. It is being able to sit on the ocean floor and watch as birds swoop in, boats sail by, and people surf through, without being bothered by what’s coming and going.

Inversely, attachment is being agitated by the birds, disturbed by the boats, and disheveled by the surfers. Ultimately, to avoid being emotionally toyed with, you need to be detached from what’s rocking your emotions in the first place.

It is believed that detachment allows us the opportunity to be deeply involved in life because we are not attached to outcomes that may arise. If you live in a detached state of being, you welcome and enjoy life at its roots. The more rooted and grounded you are, the less concerned you are with what’s blowing in the wind.

A mindfulness expert, Osho, once stated that, “When you are attached to an object, a goal, a dream, or another person, there are feelings that tell you, ‘If I don’t have that, I won’t be whole.’”

Attaching yourself to another person, place, or thing is like handing over the keys to your car and sitting idly in the backseat. It is allowing someone else or something else to control your emotional state of being— something that only you should have power over. It also plants your identity in fluid matters. If you are attached to your significant other and then you happen to part ways, you will feel less “whole”. If you are attached to your job and then get laid off, you will feel less “whole”. Notice the trend here?

I want to make something very clear: I believe in the concept of detachment; I even deeply resonate with it. I, however, do not fully live by it. My most awakened self knows that in order to be completely fluid with the happenstances of life, I need to practice detachment. Since nothing is permanent and no situation is everlasting, attachment breeds disappointment and heartbreak. Jobs will come and go, friendships will fade, and places will be left behind. We are players, and the rules are written in the stars. That is the name of this game.

As much as I understand everything I just said, I cannot imagine going through life staying detached, and I have wrestled with this concept for a long time. There are elements of life I have worked on detaching from (some I would say I have even mastered), but the most wonderful things in life have been felt by my extreme attachments. I know that if circumstances changed, and I were never able to write again, hold my dog, hang out with my friends, enjoy my family, or spend time in my favorite places, I would likely feel less “whole”.

But to me, the joy and love I feel by staying attached is worth every single heartbreak I will inevitably endure in the future. There will be a day I no longer relish in those segregated happinesses of mine. Perhaps I will look back and scold myself for not practicing detachment harder, but I am simply unwilling to detach from my individual deep loves.

I am completely aware that at some beaches, I am splashing at the surface and won’t even look down at my feet, let alone the ocean floor, but I have learned that the surface is where the sun shines. That is where the bright rays warm the tides. I may be terrified of being planted at the bottom of the ocean surrounded by sea creatures, but I have also felt the sun.

I have slowly come to learn where hate lives, and I avoid it at all costs if I can detect it. But if I see passion in the same place where I see the opportunity for heartache, I welcome it. Not because I enjoy heartache but because I would not trade passion for anything.

If there’s a day I decide that complete detachment is actually the best method for me to practice, I will do so, but for now, I will chip off little pieces of myself and sprinkle them around what I love. The core of who I am knows and believes that I am whole all on my own, but the Taylor who is living this life doesn’t know if being whole matters all that much when parts of what have stolen my heart leave. I am well aware that if I lost a friend, a family member, my dog, or my ability to write, I would not be whole. I also think that maybe my love should leave if one of them does. That love was always for them anyway and not for me to keep.

You have to know that accepting the boaters means accepting the wakes, and as much as Osho and every spiritual guru out there will be disappointed by my decision to stay partly attached, I’m going to continue riding the waves.