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.

For one, any of these can be lost to me in a heartbeat.

For two, some will most certainly outlive me.

Even my own body does not belong to me as much as I belong to it.

Yet it is curious that we seem incapable of referring to such things without using the word “my”.

That said, I am okay using the word “my” as long as we all agree that it is a declaration of stewardship, not possession.

Existentialism Humanism existentialism materialism ownership stewardship