Getting attached to your own creations

I like to think of myself as a non-materialistic person, but if I’m being honest, there’s one thing standing in my way. I suppose as long as that desire exists, I’m not truly a "non-materialist"—it's my attachment to things I've actually created myself.

Not letting go of things I've bought isn't really my issue. Over the last decade, I've lost so many phones, jewelry, accessories (gloves, scarves, umbrellas...), even pricier items like MP3 players and cameras... I don't think I've ever heard anyone else admit to being quite this clumsy when it comes to losing stuff. 😲
So, I've decided that maybe all this was meant to teach me not to get attached to things, and I am working on it; I believe I'm on the right track.

But when it involves products of my own mind and hands, it’s a bit harder. I have this ability to make aesthetically pleasing things—clothing, jewelry... I draw, I design, I just love it. If someone were to ask me "Why?", my answer would be—because I can. It frustrates me when people have talents they don't use, and I get frustrated with myself when I hit those long "dry" spells. During those times, I feel like an incomplete person, and as soon as I get back to work—everything feels right again. Anyone who has ever poured their entire mind and body into a task for hours upon hours knows how much it resembles meditation; plus, in the end, we aren't just rewarded with clear, focused thoughts, but with a tangible object that came into existence through the process.

The problem—though I'm not even sure if it's a problem—is that the item becomes deeply important later on. It gets to a point where I'd only ever gift it to my closest people, and if I thought about selling it, I don't think I could ever bring myself to part with it for any amount of money.
At this stage of my life, the feeling is perhaps the closest thing to motherhood I can experience.
I realize these are just "things," so I don't want to delude myself into thinking it's anything different from being attached to a car or a new pair of shoes.

Do you have similar experiences? Have you overcome this, and if so, how? 🙂

Susan Diaz3 said:I like to think of myself as a non-materialistic person, but if I’m being honest, there’s one thing standing in my way. I suppose as long as that desire exists, I’m not truly a "non-materialist"—it's my attachment to things I've actually created myself.

Not letting go of things I've bought isn't really my issue. Over the last decade, I've lost so many phones, jewelry, accessories (gloves, scarves, umbrellas...), even pricier items like MP3 players and cameras... I don't think I've ever heard anyone else admit to being quite this clumsy when it comes to losing stuff. 😲
So, I've decided that maybe all this was meant to teach me not to get attached to things, and I am working on it; I believe I'm on the right track.

But when it involves products of my own mind and hands, it’s a bit harder. I have this ability to make aesthetically pleasing things—clothing, jewelry... I draw, I design, I just love it. If someone were to ask me "Why?", my answer would be—because I can. It frustrates me when people have talents they don't use, and I get frustrated with myself when I hit those long "dry" spells. During those times, I feel like an incomplete person, and as soon as I get back to work—everything feels right again. Anyone who has ever poured their entire mind and body into a task for hours upon hours knows how much it resembles meditation; plus, in the end, we aren't just rewarded with clear, focused thoughts, but with a tangible object that came into existence through the process.

The problem—though I'm not even sure if it's a problem—is that the item becomes deeply important later on. It gets to a point where I'd only ever gift it to my closest people, and if I thought about selling it, I don't think I could ever bring myself to part with it for any amount of money.
At this stage of my life, the feeling is perhaps the closest thing to motherhood I can experience.
I realize these are just "things," so I don't want to delude myself into thinking it's anything different from being attached to a car or a new pair of shoes.

Do you have similar experiences? Have you overcome this, and if so, how? 🙂

I’m not attached to stuff like that, or even people—though they tend to attach themselves to me, which means I have to find ways to screw things up. Honestly, I’m not even attached to myself—to my physical body, anyway. Well, technically I am, but from my perspective, I'm really not.

So, here's the thing: while you're working, you've unconsciously slipped into that inner silence. That's why it feels so good and everything feels right—in that moment of doing, you just aren't weighing yourself down with useless mental chatter.

That’s exactly why you’re creative. You're tapping into that vastness out there—that nagual—drawing ideas from a place where you don't need to "think," you just act.

It would be a game-changer if you could do this consciously. Imagine being able to do absolutely nothing and feeling just as good as when you're actually producing something.

Give it a shot. Go sit in a park, stare at something, and just shut off the internal monologue.

👍

Susan Diaz3 said:I like to think of myself as a non-materialistic person, but if I’m being honest, there’s one thing standing in my way. I suppose as long as that desire exists, I’m not truly a "non-materialist"—it's my attachment to things I've actually created myself.

Not letting go of things I've bought isn't really my issue. Over the last decade, I've lost so many phones, jewelry, accessories (gloves, scarves, umbrellas...), even pricier items like MP3 players and cameras... I don't think I've ever heard anyone else admit to being quite this clumsy when it comes to losing stuff. 😲
So, I've decided that maybe all this was meant to teach me not to get attached to things, and I am working on it; I believe I'm on the right track.

But when it involves products of my own mind and hands, it’s a bit harder. I have this ability to make aesthetically pleasing things—clothing, jewelry... I draw, I design, I just love it. If someone were to ask me "Why?", my answer would be—because I can. It frustrates me when people have talents they don't use, and I get frustrated with myself when I hit those long "dry" spells. During those times, I feel like an incomplete person, and as soon as I get back to work—everything feels right again. Anyone who has ever poured their entire mind and body into a task for hours upon hours knows how much it resembles meditation; plus, in the end, we aren't just rewarded with clear, focused thoughts, but with a tangible object that came into existence through the process.

The problem—though I'm not even sure if it's a problem—is that the item becomes deeply important later on. It gets to a point where I'd only ever gift it to my closest people, and if I thought about selling it, I don't think I could ever bring myself to part with it for any amount of money.
At this stage of my life, the feeling is perhaps the closest thing to motherhood I can experience.
I realize these are just "things," so I don't want to delude myself into thinking it's anything different from being attached to a car or a new pair of shoes.

Do you have similar experiences? Have you overcome this, and if so, how? 🙂

You say that simply because you don't know me very well enough. 😬 It isn't just that I lose or forget things; I have this uncanny knack for breaking them or dropping them into water, and they seem to have a particular penchant for doing so right when they are brand new. 🙂
An anecdote: I once rode my bicycle to the corner store and ended up walking home, though I didn't realize what had happened until a few days later when I needed the bike again to run an errand; naturally, it was gone for good. 😢

Now, regarding the second point. Since I write a bit myself and am terribly sensitive to all manner of criticism, I have come to the conclusion that this is fundamentally a matter of ego. In principle, for the sake of our own mental well-being, we ought to release our creations into the world in such a way that they might live on their own, develop their own identity, and tell their own stories entirely independent of our influence. I am well aware that this is a difficult task, as it feels much like severing a part of oneself.

Zachary Cook2 said:I’m not attached to stuff like that, or even people—though they tend to attach themselves to me, which means I have to find ways to screw things up. Honestly, I’m not even attached to myself—to my physical body, anyway. Well, technically I am, but from my perspective, I'm really not.

So, here's the thing: while you're working, you've unconsciously slipped into that inner silence. That's why it feels so good and everything feels right—in that moment of doing, you just aren't weighing yourself down with useless mental chatter.

That’s exactly why you’re creative. You're tapping into that vastness out there—that nagual—drawing ideas from a place where you don't need to "think," you just act.

It would be a game-changer if you could do this consciously. Imagine being able to do absolutely nothing and feeling just as good as when you're actually producing something.

Give it a shot. Go sit in a park, stare at something, and just shut off the internal monologue.

👍

Yes, I understand that part. But maybe one has to take that first step and force oneself at the start... then, once I "warm up," I guess everything just flows naturally. 🙂

Zachary Cook2 said:I’m not attached to stuff like that, or even people—though they tend to attach themselves to me, which means I have to find ways to screw things up. Honestly, I’m not even attached to myself—to my physical body, anyway. Well, technically I am, but from my perspective, I'm really not.

So, here's the thing: while you're working, you've unconsciously slipped into that inner silence. That's why it feels so good and everything feels right—in that moment of doing, you just aren't weighing yourself down with useless mental chatter.

That’s exactly why you’re creative. You're tapping into that vastness out there—that nagual—drawing ideas from a place where you don't need to "think," you just act.

It would be a game-changer if you could do this consciously. Imagine being able to do absolutely nothing and feeling just as good as when you're actually producing something.

Give it a shot. Go sit in a park, stare at something, and just shut off the internal monologue.

👍

I suppose I manage to pull it off occasionally, though it's much harder because those intrusive thoughts are just so difficult to shake... It really is a discipline that people have to work incredibly hard to master. 😉 It seems to come naturally to some people, I guess. For me, I really have to put in the work.

hiddenhound3 said:You say that simply because you don't know me very well enough. 😬 It isn't just that I lose or forget things; I have this uncanny knack for breaking them or dropping them into water, and they seem to have a particular penchant for doing so right when they are brand new. 🙂
An anecdote: I once rode my bicycle to the corner store and ended up walking home, though I didn't realize what had happened until a few days later when I needed the bike again to run an errand; naturally, it was gone for good. 😢

Now, regarding the second point. Since I write a bit myself and am terribly sensitive to all manner of criticism, I have come to the conclusion that this is fundamentally a matter of ego. In principle, for the sake of our own mental well-being, we ought to release our creations into the world in such a way that they might live on their own, develop their own identity, and tell their own stories entirely independent of our influence. I am well aware that this is a difficult task, as it feels much like severing a part of oneself.

I guess I have to admit... I haven't heard that one before. 🙏 I feel for you. I really do. 🙂

hiddenhound3 said:You say that simply because you don't know me very well enough. 😬 It isn't just that I lose or forget things; I have this uncanny knack for breaking them or dropping them into water, and they seem to have a particular penchant for doing so right when they are brand new. 🙂
An anecdote: I once rode my bicycle to the corner store and ended up walking home, though I didn't realize what had happened until a few days later when I needed the bike again to run an errand; naturally, it was gone for good. 😢

Now, regarding the second point. Since I write a bit myself and am terribly sensitive to all manner of criticism, I have come to the conclusion that this is fundamentally a matter of ego. In principle, for the sake of our own mental well-being, we ought to release our creations into the world in such a way that they might live on their own, develop their own identity, and tell their own stories entirely independent of our influence. I am well aware that this is a difficult task, as it feels much like severing a part of oneself.

Sure, the ego. It loves praise, but it gets wounded by criticism..
but that's exactly what I was emphasizing. If people didn't take their own work so personally, they wouldn't feel this way.
For instance, a friend of mine who writes. She rarely writes, but when she finally does, I just lose my mind because it's so good. And she says herself that she isn't trying to write, it just happens—afterward, she feels as if she didn't write the story, but rather the story wrote itself. Like she doesn't even deserve it. That way, she stays distanced from the work itself.
I guess the problem is that I perceive my ideas as "mine," instead of divine inspiration.

hiddenhound3 said:You say that simply because you don't know me very well enough. 😬 It isn't just that I lose or forget things; I have this uncanny knack for breaking them or dropping them into water, and they seem to have a particular penchant for doing so right when they are brand new. 🙂
An anecdote: I once rode my bicycle to the corner store and ended up walking home, though I didn't realize what had happened until a few days later when I needed the bike again to run an errand; naturally, it was gone for good. 😢

Now, regarding the second point. Since I write a bit myself and am terribly sensitive to all manner of criticism, I have come to the conclusion that this is fundamentally a matter of ego. In principle, for the sake of our own mental well-being, we ought to release our creations into the world in such a way that they might live on their own, develop their own identity, and tell their own stories entirely independent of our influence. I am well aware that this is a difficult task, as it feels much like severing a part of oneself.

The thing is, creations can only ever have an assigned identity, because they aren't independent thinking entities capable of interacting with some other similar entity on their own.

It’s all ego, really—this idea that the ego is just a projection of the past and the future, which means it doesn't actually exist in the present. More specifically, the ego is just a collection of thoughts where we project our "ideal" versus our "real" selves, and you can only truly think about the past or the future; in the actual present moment, there is only action.

And another thing: ownership isn't some inherent right a person just possesses. It's more like a privilege where you can use an object, a plot of land, or a car for your own purposes as long as you remain in harmony with your environment.
So, you can't actually lose anything because you don't truly possess it in the first place—things just change. Ownership is just a temporary state, not some permanent thing.

Your attachment to your own creative work isn't some flaw you need to fix—honestly, don't even try to strip that feeling away. In many ways, it’s actually safer to be tethered to your art than to people... because objects and materials can't break your heart, whereas people certainly can. Now, while I might not be capable of practicing my own theory in practice—admittedly a bit of a hypocrite there—I know for a fact that the logic holds true. And remember this: the ultimate masterpiece is simply the one the creator actually likes. If you find value in what you make, that’s the only metric that matters; the opinions of others are largely irrelevant noise. If someone tries to label you a mere materialist or claims your work lacks merit, just tune them out. True materialism—if you have the capacity to achieve it—is actually quite a blessing 😉

That sense of attachment? It’s definitely coming from the ego, but honestly, it depends on how long it sticks around. In small doses, it can actually be useful. It makes you feel connected to the source of your creativity, giving you a sense of awareness about what you're building. That part is fine. But once you hit that mature stage of the creative process, you start to realize something: you can't fulfill the true purpose of creating if you don't share it with others. Which means you have to let go of the thing you love most. When you stay attached to what you've made, you just end up being arrogant and chasing validation. Once you start detaching, you finally see the bigger picture. You see the distinction between the creation and the creator... and that creator isn't your Ego. It's your Soul.

Susan Diaz3 said:Yes, I understand that part. But maybe one has to take that first step and force oneself at the start... then, once I "warm up," I guess everything just flows naturally. 🙂

I suppose I manage to pull it off occasionally, though it's much harder because those intrusive thoughts are just so difficult to shake... It really is a discipline that people have to work incredibly hard to master. 😉 It seems to come naturally to some people, I guess. For me, I really have to put in the work.

I guess I have to admit... I haven't heard that one before. 🙏 I feel for you. I really do. 🙂

Sure, the ego. It loves praise, but it gets wounded by criticism..
but that's exactly what I was emphasizing. If people didn't take their own work so personally, they wouldn't feel this way.
For instance, a friend of mine who writes. She rarely writes, but when she finally does, I just lose my mind because it's so good. And she says herself that she isn't trying to write, it just happens—afterward, she feels as if she didn't write the story, but rather the story wrote itself. Like she doesn't even deserve it. That way, she stays distanced from the work itself.
I guess the problem is that I perceive my ideas as "mine," instead of divine inspiration.

It’s pretty natural for me, I guess. Honestly, a person just needs to become aware of it, and then it kind of clicks on its own. I stay quiet about 90% of the time; even when I'm "talking" to someone in my head, I just shut up. When a thought does pop up, I'm immediately aware of it and kill it instantly... it's great. You aren't weighed down by the nonsense of this world—you aren't spinning useless chatter around in your head that serves absolutely zero purpose... stuff like that.

Inner silence is the exact state that ancient shamans in Mexico strove to achieve above all else. It's a natural state of human perception where thoughts are blocked, yet all your abilities function at a level of consciousness that doesn't require the usual cognitive machinery. The body works as usual, but your attention becomes sharper. Decisions happen instantaneously, almost as if they spring from a specific kind of knowledge that requires no verbalization of thought.

Susan Diaz3 said:Yes, I understand that part. But maybe one has to take that first step and force oneself at the start... then, once I "warm up," I guess everything just flows naturally. 🙂

I suppose I manage to pull it off occasionally, though it's much harder because those intrusive thoughts are just so difficult to shake... It really is a discipline that people have to work incredibly hard to master. 😉 It seems to come naturally to some people, I guess. For me, I really have to put in the work.

I guess I have to admit... I haven't heard that one before. 🙏 I feel for you. I really do. 🙂

Sure, the ego. It loves praise, but it gets wounded by criticism..
but that's exactly what I was emphasizing. If people didn't take their own work so personally, they wouldn't feel this way.
For instance, a friend of mine who writes. She rarely writes, but when she finally does, I just lose my mind because it's so good. And she says herself that she isn't trying to write, it just happens—afterward, she feels as if she didn't write the story, but rather the story wrote itself. Like she doesn't even deserve it. That way, she stays distanced from the work itself.
I guess the problem is that I perceive my ideas as "mine," instead of divine inspiration.

Your friend sounds like she possesses a truly remarkable talent.👍
I find the notion of intellectual ownership quite unappealing. Ideas are transient things that come and go; we do not own them, but instead serve merely as the medium through which they manifest and the instruments used during that manifestation.
That being said, one must acknowledge that every idea is inevitably colored—either enriched or diminished—by the artist's own persona. Every concept absorbs a certain autobiographical quality from the medium through which it is filtered; on some works, this acts like the oak smoke that imparts nobility to a fine barrique, while on others, it acts like mold that spoils the original shape and purity of the idea.

I trust my metaphor is clear and doesn't lean too heavily into culinary territory. 😬

Peter Phillips32 said:The thing is, creations can only ever have an assigned identity, because they aren't independent thinking entities capable of interacting with some other similar entity on their own.

It’s all ego, really—this idea that the ego is just a projection of the past and the future, which means it doesn't actually exist in the present. More specifically, the ego is just a collection of thoughts where we project our "ideal" versus our "real" selves, and you can only truly think about the past or the future; in the actual present moment, there is only action.

And another thing: ownership isn't some inherent right a person just possesses. It's more like a privilege where you can use an object, a plot of land, or a car for your own purposes as long as you remain in harmony with your environment.
So, you can't actually lose anything because you don't truly possess it in the first place—things just change. Ownership is just a temporary state, not some permanent thing.

I certainly grasp the essence of your point, though I find myself unable to agree entirely. It seems to me that people err when they attempt to identify themselves with their possessions, the works of art they have produced, or most frequently, their own physical bodies; consequently, they perceive any detachment from these things as a loss of self, which is fundamentally an illusion.

Back when I was just a kid, I was head over heels—and I mean way past the point of no return—for science fiction.
I don't know why... I guess I was just "somewhere else" entirely back then. Every fiber of my being felt detached. I was constantly hungry for it—that deep, restless craving for everything that fed my obsession with the cosmos, interstellar travel, and the idea of life out there among the stars.

It was mostly just books and anything else that fell under the sci-fi umbrella.
Just everything I could wrap my head around at the time.
I was feeling inspired, maybe even a little high on life, so I actually sat down and tried to write something myself... I even went as far as publishing a few humble little pieces.
That dragged on for years... honestly, there was this whole chunk of my life that was just defined by it.

One of the few things I’ve ever done with actual, genuine heart—despite everything else being a total mess—was collecting "Sirius".
I can't even remember the name of it—some obscure sci-fi magazine from back in the 80s that used to be everywhere. I honestly can't recall who actually published it anymore.
It might sound like I'm laying it on a bit thick, but honestly, I could barely wait for that one specific day of the month when the new issue finally hits the stands at the local newsstand...

Whatever.

Every drought has its own little ways of getting by. For me, it was devouring everything they published, making every first Monday of the month—the day the new issue dropped—feel like a damn holiday.
Literally!
Man, Ursula Le Guin, Stanislav Lem, Clark, Asimov, Dick, Zelazny... wow. Just wow.
I’m not even going to get into how jealous and pathologically needy I was about keeping every single one of those specimens—honestly, I don't want to go there.

So... anyway...
After years of obsessively collecting things—and even more obsessively hoarding them—something just shifted. It was sudden, totally unprompted, and honestly? I can’t even begin to explain the change that’s taken over my soul.
It was a total, fundamental shift in how I saw everything. My whole perspective on life, how I interacted with the world around me, even just the way I processed my surroundings... it all flipped.
My entire value system just flipped upside down overnight. Everything I thought I stood for? Gone. Just... poof.

One thing that’s been gnawing at me lately—honestly, I can’t get it out of my head—is this nagging, uncomfortable feeling that this whole "burden" of mine, this obsession that kept me tethered to SF... all those heavy volumes and endless stacks of magazines that basically smelled like my own fixation, have become part of my DNA. It's gotten to the point where I feel like I actually have to deal with it... I have to resolve this.

There wasn't any logic to it... honestly. It was just this feeling... this gut instinct I had that I couldn't explain away no matter how hard I tried.

He really dug deep, forcing me to take everything I’d ever done and view it through this one specific lens... but here’s the weird part—it was almost grotesque how the "Sirius" collection just suddenly bubbled up to the surface!
At first, the whole thing seemed pretty banal... but it didn't take long to realize it wasn't quite as soulless as it looked at face value.

Honestly, just the thought of having to get rid of them sent me into a total tailspin... It felt heavy, you know? Like I was contemplating getting rid of my own kids. Just crushing my own flesh and blood.

Good grief!

It honestly hit me like a ton of bricks—this overwhelming sense of total helplessness whenever I even tried to wrap my head around the idea of just tossing that whole collection out.
All that enthusiasm, all those years I spent stockpiling what I thought was "pure joy"—it all boiled down to just fifteen kilos of paper.

Finally... one morning, this absolutely gorgeous sunny day that I know I’ll never forget—without any big drama or overthinking it—I just grabbed everything. All those copies I spent years meticulously collecting, pouring so much energy and enthusiasm into? I stuffed them all into two massive trash bags and headed straight for the Brooklyn Bridge.

I felt like a total pack mule, honestly. Just standing there, weeping inside while I lugged that massive weight across my shoulders, praying for the chance to just hurl the whole damn thing into the river and be done with it.

Why throw it in the river? Why not just burn it... or better yet, give it away, or sell it? Back then, those things actually fetched a decent price. I can't for the life of me figure out why we didn't. Honestly, I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it.

It just completely blindsided me—that sudden flash of inspiration. It was one of those "now or never" moments where a window opens and you realize if you don't jump through right this second, it’s gone forever. Like a rogue wave that hits out of nowhere; you only get one shot to ride it. Honestly? It wasn't exactly easy for me to pull the trigger, but I did it anyway.

Everything around me felt heavy, possessed this indescribable "quality"... like I was walking through a trance. Honestly, I was just reeling from the fact that I was finally doing the one thing my whole being had been fighting against. One part of me was feeding me this relentless, suffocating wave of self-pity—something I’d been struggling like hell to shake off—while the other side of me, the part that actually realized I had to drop all this dead weight, was racing toward the river. It felt like my absolute last shot at washing all that filth off my soul.

Like some mystical river is just gonna swoop in, absorb all my baggage into its current, and carry it away to some far-off delta to deposit it on a distant shore... ......................yeah, right. Give me a break.

Long story short...

When I finally made it to the bridge and walked out to the middle, looking down at the river rolling calmly below, it was time. Time to take those two heavy bags off my shoulders and just hurl them into that crystal-clear water swirling lazily against the pilings.

That was easily one of the hardest things I’ve ever done... and believe me, I’ve been through the wringer. I’ve seen it all, lived it all, put my head in the sand a hundred times over... I’ve tasted everything life has to throw at you.

The second I let go, I felt this—it's hard to even put into words—this sensation of literally shedding the weight that had been suffocating me for years. It felt like an invisible shroud was being physically ripped away, something that had been clinging to me like tar, slowing me down and draining the life out of me constantly...

Even now, I look back at that "trivial" moment—that act of "childish stupidity" that any "normal" person would have laughed their head off at... that beautiful spring morning back in the 80s—and I realize it was one of the most pivotal moments of my entire life.

It was one of the toughest, most brutal battles I've ever fought.

A split-second decision that sent my life spinning in a completely new direction, changing everything from the roots up... irreversibly.

🙂

Susan Diaz3 said:I like to think of myself as a non-materialistic person, but if I’m being honest, there’s one thing standing in my way. I suppose as long as that desire exists, I’m not truly a "non-materialist"—it's my attachment to things I've actually created myself.

Not letting go of things I've bought isn't really my issue. Over the last decade, I've lost so many phones, jewelry, accessories (gloves, scarves, umbrellas...), even pricier items like MP3 players and cameras... I don't think I've ever heard anyone else admit to being quite this clumsy when it comes to losing stuff. 😲
So, I've decided that maybe all this was meant to teach me not to get attached to things, and I am working on it; I believe I'm on the right track.

But when it involves products of my own mind and hands, it’s a bit harder. I have this ability to make aesthetically pleasing things—clothing, jewelry... I draw, I design, I just love it. If someone were to ask me "Why?", my answer would be—because I can. It frustrates me when people have talents they don't use, and I get frustrated with myself when I hit those long "dry" spells. During those times, I feel like an incomplete person, and as soon as I get back to work—everything feels right again. Anyone who has ever poured their entire mind and body into a task for hours upon hours knows how much it resembles meditation; plus, in the end, we aren't just rewarded with clear, focused thoughts, but with a tangible object that came into existence through the process.

The problem—though I'm not even sure if it's a problem—is that the item becomes deeply important later on. It gets to a point where I'd only ever gift it to my closest people, and if I thought about selling it, I don't think I could ever bring myself to part with it for any amount of money.
At this stage of my life, the feeling is perhaps the closest thing to motherhood I can experience.
I realize these are just "things," so I don't want to delude myself into thinking it's anything different from being attached to a car or a new pair of shoes.

Do you have similar experiences? Have you overcome this, and if so, how? 🙂

That feeling can't be close to motherhood. Motherhood and possession are two fundamentally opposing concepts. While our creations fulfill us in their own way, the love one feels for a child and the love one feels for their own work aren't even in the same ballpark.

hiddenhound3 said:I certainly grasp the essence of your point, though I find myself unable to agree entirely. It seems to me that people err when they attempt to identify themselves with their possessions, the works of art they have produced, or most frequently, their own physical bodies; consequently, they perceive any detachment from these things as a loss of self, which is fundamentally an illusion.

It feels like we're actually on the same page here; we're just using different ways to describe the exact same thing.

This text comes from my archives. Unfortunately, I can't recall the author's name or the original source:

Michael Landy (41) is an artist from South New York City. His most famous project to date is 'Breakdown', where he destroyed every single material possession he ever owned. It is a brilliant idea. It is also incredibly radical. If you asked the average person on the street to do that, you would see how they react. I must admit, even I could not part with everything I own. Some things carry such emotional weight that they simply become part of who I am.

But what Michael accomplished deserves respect. It took him two weeks to dispose of all 7,006 items.

First, he spent three years systematically cataloging every little thing: assigning numbers and sorting them into various categories. Then, along with assistants dressed in industrial uniforms, he broke everything down into its core components. Finally, those dismantled pieces were packed into trash bags. This systematic destruction included Michael's Saab and his other artworks.

Passersby could watch the whole process in an empty department store located in the heart of New York City, right on Fifth Avenue. They could stare in amazement at such an unusual undertaking.

People are territorial creatures, naturally. When you see everything you have ever owned stuffed into plastic bags—shattered and stripped of their purpose—you have to wonder: what actually matters in life? What provides a real advantage? Are material goods truly the alpha and omega of human achievement? A house with a yard, nice furniture, a car in the garage, unique pieces of art, closets full of trendy clothes, family photos, or even mundane objects we have imbued with sentimental meaning... Could anyone act as radically as Michael? I admit, I could not. But I have never even tried or thought about it. So, who knows?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Landy

Breakdown, the work that brought him public recognition, was held in February 2001 AT an Old branch of The clothes Store C & in New York City on Fifth Avenue (C&A had recently closed, leaving the shop empty).

Landy collected all his belongings, from postage stamps to his car, including his clothing and both his own and others' artwork. He painstakingly cataloged all 7,227 items before destroying them all in public. The process of destruction was Dona on something resembling an assembly Lin in a mass production factory, where ten workers reduced each item to its basic materials and shredded them.

Nowadays, many of us live as if we are playing a game: "Whoever dies with the most toys wins!!!"

Let someone else throw the first stone... 😁

Jeremy Davis7 said:Back when I was just a kid, I was head over heels—and I mean way past the point of no return—for science fiction.
I don't know why... I guess I was just "somewhere else" entirely back then. Every fiber of my being felt detached. I was constantly hungry for it—that deep, restless craving for everything that fed my obsession with the cosmos, interstellar travel, and the idea of life out there among the stars.

It was mostly just books and anything else that fell under the sci-fi umbrella.
Just everything I could wrap my head around at the time.
I was feeling inspired, maybe even a little high on life, so I actually sat down and tried to write something myself... I even went as far as publishing a few humble little pieces.
That dragged on for years... honestly, there was this whole chunk of my life that was just defined by it.

One of the few things I’ve ever done with actual, genuine heart—despite everything else being a total mess—was collecting "Sirius".
I can't even remember the name of it—some obscure sci-fi magazine from back in the 80s that used to be everywhere. I honestly can't recall who actually published it anymore.
It might sound like I'm laying it on a bit thick, but honestly, I could barely wait for that one specific day of the month when the new issue finally hits the stands at the local newsstand...

Whatever.

Every drought has its own little ways of getting by. For me, it was devouring everything they published, making every first Monday of the month—the day the new issue dropped—feel like a damn holiday.
Literally!
Man, Ursula Le Guin, Stanislav Lem, Clark, Asimov, Dick, Zelazny... wow. Just wow.
I’m not even going to get into how jealous and pathologically needy I was about keeping every single one of those specimens—honestly, I don't want to go there.

So... anyway...
After years of obsessively collecting things—and even more obsessively hoarding them—something just shifted. It was sudden, totally unprompted, and honestly? I can’t even begin to explain the change that’s taken over my soul.
It was a total, fundamental shift in how I saw everything. My whole perspective on life, how I interacted with the world around me, even just the way I processed my surroundings... it all flipped.
My entire value system just flipped upside down overnight. Everything I thought I stood for? Gone. Just... poof.

One thing that’s been gnawing at me lately—honestly, I can’t get it out of my head—is this nagging, uncomfortable feeling that this whole "burden" of mine, this obsession that kept me tethered to SF... all those heavy volumes and endless stacks of magazines that basically smelled like my own fixation, have become part of my DNA. It's gotten to the point where I feel like I actually have to deal with it... I have to resolve this.

There wasn't any logic to it... honestly. It was just this feeling... this gut instinct I had that I couldn't explain away no matter how hard I tried.

He really dug deep, forcing me to take everything I’d ever done and view it through this one specific lens... but here’s the weird part—it was almost grotesque how the "Sirius" collection just suddenly bubbled up to the surface!
At first, the whole thing seemed pretty banal... but it didn't take long to realize it wasn't quite as soulless as it looked at face value.

Honestly, just the thought of having to get rid of them sent me into a total tailspin... It felt heavy, you know? Like I was contemplating getting rid of my own kids. Just crushing my own flesh and blood.

Good grief!

It honestly hit me like a ton of bricks—this overwhelming sense of total helplessness whenever I even tried to wrap my head around the idea of just tossing that whole collection out.
All that enthusiasm, all those years I spent stockpiling what I thought was "pure joy"—it all boiled down to just fifteen kilos of paper.

Finally... one morning, this absolutely gorgeous sunny day that I know I’ll never forget—without any big drama or overthinking it—I just grabbed everything. All those copies I spent years meticulously collecting, pouring so much energy and enthusiasm into? I stuffed them all into two massive trash bags and headed straight for the Brooklyn Bridge.

I felt like a total pack mule, honestly. Just standing there, weeping inside while I lugged that massive weight across my shoulders, praying for the chance to just hurl the whole damn thing into the river and be done with it.

Why throw it in the river? Why not just burn it... or better yet, give it away, or sell it? Back then, those things actually fetched a decent price. I can't for the life of me figure out why we didn't. Honestly, I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it.

It just completely blindsided me—that sudden flash of inspiration. It was one of those "now or never" moments where a window opens and you realize if you don't jump through right this second, it’s gone forever. Like a rogue wave that hits out of nowhere; you only get one shot to ride it. Honestly? It wasn't exactly easy for me to pull the trigger, but I did it anyway.

Everything around me felt heavy, possessed this indescribable "quality"... like I was walking through a trance. Honestly, I was just reeling from the fact that I was finally doing the one thing my whole being had been fighting against. One part of me was feeding me this relentless, suffocating wave of self-pity—something I’d been struggling like hell to shake off—while the other side of me, the part that actually realized I had to drop all this dead weight, was racing toward the river. It felt like my absolute last shot at washing all that filth off my soul.

Like some mystical river is just gonna swoop in, absorb all my baggage into its current, and carry it away to some far-off delta to deposit it on a distant shore... ......................yeah, right. Give me a break.

Long story short...

When I finally made it to the bridge and walked out to the middle, looking down at the river rolling calmly below, it was time. Time to take those two heavy bags off my shoulders and just hurl them into that crystal-clear water swirling lazily against the pilings.

That was easily one of the hardest things I’ve ever done... and believe me, I’ve been through the wringer. I’ve seen it all, lived it all, put my head in the sand a hundred times over... I’ve tasted everything life has to throw at you.

The second I let go, I felt this—it's hard to even put into words—this sensation of literally shedding the weight that had been suffocating me for years. It felt like an invisible shroud was being physically ripped away, something that had been clinging to me like tar, slowing me down and draining the life out of me constantly...

Even now, I look back at that "trivial" moment—that act of "childish stupidity" that any "normal" person would have laughed their head off at... that beautiful spring morning back in the 80s—and I realize it was one of the most pivotal moments of my entire life.

It was one of the toughest, most brutal battles I've ever fought.

A split-second decision that sent my life spinning in a completely new direction, changing everything from the roots up... irreversibly.

🙂

😲😲😲 ... check out this next clip:

J. G. Bennett on Identification

Mr. Bennett was a student of Gurdjieff. In this lecture, he discusses how one must sacrifice something incredibly precious to us—a deeply ingrained identification—in order to gain self-remembering in return. He even cites a specific example involving a woman. If you're interested in diving deeper into the mechanics of self-remembering, I'd suggest leafing through some of Gurdjieff's books.

My old man is an artist... and even though he’s always nudging me to help him set up some gallery shows or something, he rarely actually sells a single piece. He says his paintings are like his own children, which is fine and all, but his entire apartment is just overflowing with canvases while his wallet stays pretty much empty... 🤷
As for me, I guess I can be a little sensitive when it comes to my cooking. If someone doesn't give my specialties the credit they deserve, or if they have the nerve to start raving about someone else's food instead, there's zero chance they're getting a second helping from me. 😳

boldsailor32 said:

This text comes from my archives. Unfortunately, I can't recall the author's name or the original source:

Michael Landy (41) is an artist from South New York City. His most famous project to date is 'Breakdown', where he destroyed every single material possession he ever owned. It is a brilliant idea. It is also incredibly radical. If you asked the average person on the street to do that, you would see how they react. I must admit, even I could not part with everything I own. Some things carry such emotional weight that they simply become part of who I am.

But what Michael accomplished deserves respect. It took him two weeks to dispose of all 7,006 items.

First, he spent three years systematically cataloging every little thing: assigning numbers and sorting them into various categories. Then, along with assistants dressed in industrial uniforms, he broke everything down into its core components. Finally, those dismantled pieces were packed into trash bags. This systematic destruction included Michael's Saab and his other artworks.

Passersby could watch the whole process in an empty department store located in the heart of New York City, right on Fifth Avenue. They could stare in amazement at such an unusual undertaking.

People are territorial creatures, naturally. When you see everything you have ever owned stuffed into plastic bags—shattered and stripped of their purpose—you have to wonder: what actually matters in life? What provides a real advantage? Are material goods truly the alpha and omega of human achievement? A house with a yard, nice furniture, a car in the garage, unique pieces of art, closets full of trendy clothes, family photos, or even mundane objects we have imbued with sentimental meaning... Could anyone act as radically as Michael? I admit, I could not. But I have never even tried or thought about it. So, who knows?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Landy

Breakdown, the work that brought him public recognition, was held in February 2001 AT an Old branch of The clothes Store C & in New York City on Fifth Avenue (C&A had recently closed, leaving the shop empty).

Landy collected all his belongings, from postage stamps to his car, including his clothing and both his own and others' artwork. He painstakingly cataloged all 7,227 items before destroying them all in public. The process of destruction was Dona on something resembling an assembly Lin in a mass production factory, where ten workers reduced each item to its basic materials and shredded them.

Nowadays, many of us live as if we are playing a game: "Whoever dies with the most toys wins!!!"

Let someone else throw the first stone... 😁

What Mickey did was just pure nonsense.😂
Everything we deal with is basically just materialized energy anyway.

I mean, did he actually tear down the house he's living in or what? 😂

You shouldn't be obsessing over fixing everything—you can't let yourself get tied up in that stuff, period.

It’s like if you have these high-end speakers at home that cost you $1,200, and then some neighbor walks in and asks if you could just give them to him as a gift... and you actually do it.

That's pretty much the vibe...

😉

Zachary Cook2 said:What Mickey did was just pure nonsense.😂
Everything we deal with is basically just materialized energy anyway.

I mean, did he actually tear down the house he's living in or what? 😂

You shouldn't be obsessing over fixing everything—you can't let yourself get tied up in that stuff, period.

It’s like if you have these high-end speakers at home that cost you $1,200, and then some neighbor walks in and asks if you could just give them to him as a gift... and you actually do it.

That's pretty much the vibe...

😉

Maybe you misinterpreted the detail about how Europeans don't all own houses like some smuggler in the States does... Most people live in rentals.

And someone who spent a long time picking out $1,000 high-fidelity speakers? They'd sooner give up their seat on the couch than hand that audio pleasure over to a neighbor. 😉

This is a fascinating topic!

Drew Morgan, try doing the exact opposite of your usual routine—give your work away for free or just sell it off. Once you let go, you won't be so emotionally tethered to it. Ultimately, the act of creation matters more than the final product itself.

I deal with an even worse issue—I get pathologically attached to my concepts. I try to force them into reality, but it rarely works because those ideas come from a world of ideas—things like justice and other abstract nonsense. 😍

I also struggle to let go of things I’m not even personally invested in; they just end up irritating me. I really respect this artist. When I die, I don't want to leave anything material behind as a burden, least of all my own body.

boldsailor32 said:Maybe you misinterpreted the detail about how Europeans don't all own houses like some smuggler in the States does... Most people live in rentals.

And someone who spent a long time picking out $1,000 high-fidelity speakers? They'd sooner give up their seat on the couch than hand that audio pleasure over to a neighbor. 😉

Yeah, obviously...👍😉

I mean, through stuff like this, we find the starting point for releasing energy. We're also tied to our own creation—this idea of "ourselves" that we've spent years grooming, fixing our teeth, using various creams, maybe even getting cosmetic surgery... eventually, we get satisfied with our "creation"—our own selves—to the point where we wouldn't want to give ourselves away to anyone else..😂

We're also tethered to our creation of "our" world—everything we decide is beautiful or ugly. That's how we build our own reality...

Man, we need to shake that off fast if we ever want to become truly fluid beings...👍

😉