There was a fad quite some time ago to wear puzzle rings. These are allegedly Arabic or Turkish in origin and were used to insure the wearer’s devotion, in that most people didn’t know how to put them together so wouldn’t dare to take them off. I had a silver one as a teen ager. It was some kind of fashion statement.
Years later my husband and I decided to get these kinds of rings in gold when we got married. He rarely took his off since he couldn’t figure out how to put it back together. I had to keep putting it together. That is a very apt metaphor for the marriage in general. I write that out of some remaining residual tiredness, not bitterness, since we divorced some years ago.
I still have that ring from the marriage and am thinking about getting it resized to wear on another finger. Generic sorts of rings at least have a recyclability that very-specific-purpose-created ones don’t. Now it only reminds me of things like the entropy of the universe. It reminds me that it takes some amount of work to hold things together even if they seem to be made to stay together. It reminds me that things are not as solid as they may seem. It reminds me that what appears to be one thing is often a composite of many things. So it has lost it’s previous emotional value and become a generic thing to which I can attach any sort of value or meaning, if I decide to do that at all.
Not being a big fan of sentimentality I do once in a while get caught in that bramble bush though.
A while back I was cleaning out a long neglected closet. I came across my wedding dress-all wrapped in a plastic cover, hanging on it’s special hangar. As well was the box with wedding photos and the silk flowers I had worn in my hair on that afternoon in August on the beach. It was close to the day that would have been my wedding anniversary. I have moved on, he has moved on. Yet….[insert fluffy cloudlike reveries here]
Then some months later as I was moving some data from an old computer to a new one I happened upon some old email correspondence from around the time of the decision to divorce. Bang. That’ll cure any simmering sentimentality for sure.
The world is a rapturous place. Precious and as far as I know something that can only be experienced once. Every moment is only once. Clinging to the moment. Becoming enraptured with the moment and the infinite exquisite beauty of any particular moment is quite a trap.
Equanimity is not only for unpleasant encounters.