Broken

My hands were full, the door to the kitchen was closed, a door with one of those handles you turn, not a knob. You can use an elbow and lean down on it to open the door. I was carrying a mug and a small dish in one hand, the other hand had a water bottle with another cup held by my little finger. Tucked under my arm, my upper arm close to my armpit, was another water bottle. Hey, I like water.

What I should have done is walk a few steps to the dining table, put the stuff down, walk back open the door, and then safely move the items in a couple of trips into the kitchen. But I'd successfully done this move many times with even more stuff tucked under my other arm. I yanked the handle down, pushed the door with the arm holding the mug and small dish. The small dish happened to get dislodged from my arm as the handle snapped back up when the door swung open.

It fell. The kitchen floor is ceramic, the dish was ceramic. Ceramic on ceramic not a good combination. The height was probably about three feet and it landed nicely on it's edge. It didn't have a chance. Shattering into small pieces and scattering a mile wide. Into the kitchen and also back into the dining room from whence I came.

I don't know why but I was immediately embarrassed. I felt judged for being a klutz by my inner imaginary conscience. That guy who sits on your right shoulder and tells you to slow down when you're speeding. To calm down and breath when you want to lash out. Then immediately came the sadness, the pain of loss. Of having a lost a really good friend because you killed them.

I'd had that small dish for almost twenty years. I remember when it was given to me as a housewarming gift. We'd been together for a really long time and it had served me with sandwiches, fruit, cake and snacks. Faithfully doing it's job and asking for nothing in return. And there, because I was so busy, I dropped it and it was now no more.

BROKEN

When things break, physically, or emotionally, the feeling is a sinking hollowness in the chest, at least for me. Some peopled possibly feel it in the stomach. It's a pressure-like feeling. Like something is pressing you down. And your head has this emptiness. You may even cry and though tears may not come out, there's a wetness around the eyes for the loss. You're never elated because you can always toss out things that you didn't like. But when you break something accidentally, you feel sad.

It similar to when someone close to you lies to you, or even worse, rips you off. A sense of lack of trust feels breaks you and you feel pressure and emptiness at the same time.

THE FIX

And so you tell yourself that next time you will only hold one or two things and do things carefully. You won't speed so that the cops don't stop you. You will not be so trusting so that you aren't hurt. You'll move in slow motion, like you're moving in thick oil, and be very careful as to not make any more mistakes in life. And this may work for a few hours, but you soon forget. That's the one good thing with our animal brain. Like good feelings also fade away, bad feelings also in time just disappear.

The Stoics know this and having a stoic frame of mind is an excellent way to live. Knowing and anticipating that breakage is a part of life and so when it comes, while the sinking feeling may still be there, at least now you can curiously observe the breakage with curiosity, and ask yourself, "so where have you been my friend?" "It's been a week since we last met, how've you been?" "Why did you choose to let me back into that raised curb and damage the car bumper?" "Now you've really cost me money that I was intending to spend on pleasure." "Oh well, till next time, just do something simpler." "And hey, leave my phone and computer alone."

That conversation trivializes the event, makes it look commonplace and even though unexpected, inevitable.

IT'S IN THE MIND

As with everything you've read, mental breakage is in the mind. While the loss is physical, your brain works against you to punish you for what you just did. It goes as far as telling you that you're a bad person, careless, not thoughtful, inconsiderate and stupid. You should have known, it says. It doesn't matter if what you broke was yours. If it was someone else's stuff, then you brain will really punish you. But when someone else breaks your stuff, you may even get angry. Angry at them for not being careful or considerate for your stuff. Thinking about this may make you a little bit more considerate towards people who break things. Because I'm sure you've broken and disappointed other people, not more than once. Perhaps you didn't know it, but trust me, you have.

Your brain is there to observe, file and categorize. I don't know who gave it the job of also making critical judgement and it appears that the critical judgement is aimed at reviewing what happened, so that it does not happen again. The trick is that you're only supposed to make mistakes once in life. Once you've made the mistake, you should not repeat it. You should have learned your lesson. 

But you keep breaking stuff, and the feeling of being careless and stupid comes back. Repeatedly, even stronger with each repetition. You can't help feeling bad when someone you know dies. It's natural for that feeling to come and with time it too dissipates. It goes away. That one does take a longer time irrespective of the circumstances. Natural death easier to take than accidental.

THE THING TO REMEMBER

Is that the broken events make up about 2 percent (made up statistic) of your total experience. The other 98 percent is OK, or even delightful. And when the 2 percent happens, we dwell on it as though it was 100 percent. And when it fades into the distance, we don't realize that we've been living in the 98 percent for much longer than the 2 percent. The 2 percent is like a visit from a parent, stressful, but it passes.

Dwell and live in the 98 percent, enjoying every moment of it. Knowing that the 2 percent is just around the corner. And so when it shows up, you can ask it, "hey, my friend, long time no see." "Glad to have you back, can I get you something to drink and we catch up?" "Remember last week, I spilled juice on the couch, ouch! that was two days of cleaning, and that couch will never be the same." "What was that?" "Oh no, I still drink juice on the couch." "Ok then, till next time, see you later."

And that's that.