Things We Own: Part Three

"Have you lost your riches?" said Govinda.

Sidhartha answered, "I have lost them, or they have lost me.  I am not sure.  The wheel of appearances revolves quickly...The transitory soon changes."  Herman Hesse - Siddhartha

Since I lost my phone in a taxi in China, I have taken to carrying my iPod in situations where I feel the need for a time keeping device, in addition to the usual situation where I just want to hear some music. There is a degree of paranoia that comes with carrying my most expensive possession and I find myself often checking and rechecking for it, confirming it's place in my zipped pocket, especially when I'm riding the motorcycle.  But somewhere along the road I lost this habit, or at least cut down its frequency, and some time after that I dismounted the bike, wandered down yet another dark alley in search of a vacant guesthouse, wondered about the time and, in reaching for the iPod to check, found my pocket unzipped and the device absent.  

As faithful readers know, I have experienced the dread of losing this possession before, in Nepal, early in my travels.  At that time, the combination of its newness and the prospect of my entire remaining trip without music broke my heart, all the way up until I discovered it hidden in the pocket of the pants I was wearing.  This time, there will be no moment of salvation, but I am more prepared for the loss, can tell myself that it was just a thing, not something that is a part of me, but an object, transitory, meaningless.  Still, there is a part of my mind that tries to prevent the loss, that seems unaware that the ship has sailed, retroactively correcting the mistake; zipping my pocket, checking more frequently during the ride from Padangbai to Ubud, slipping it into my pack on the ferry, noticing it dropping as I climbed on or off the bike somewhere; trying to solve the problem like it's a Zen Koan, except without the peace that comes from the lack of an answer.  

My travels have been fairly painless so far.  I have lost an old, cheap phone, a towel, a t-shirt, a flashlight, and a 160GB iPod packed with playlists and music that I am irrationally fond of.  I can tell myself, intellectually, that possessions are of little value, that they end up owning me and I should examine my attachment to them rather than mourn their loss; but there is still a part of me that is wounded by the missing item, and perhaps more by my carelessness in allowing it to slip away.  There is a metaphor there somewhere that applies to my not too-distant past, but I will ignore that for the moment and focus on the task of forgetting my silly little toy.