I did not understand life until I realized that nothing really belongs to me.
Nothing… not my house, my car, my stuff, my job, my bank account, my pets, my titles, my accomplishments, my citizenship, my village, my family, my friends. Any of these can be lost to me in a heartbeat. Some will most certainly outlive me. Even my own body is just a loner that will abandon me in time.
Yet it is curious that we seem incapable of referring to such things without preceding them with word “my”.
That said, and for lack of a better word, I am okay using “my”… as long as we agree that it is a declaration of stewardship, not just possession.