When I was about five or six years old I had an unfortunate incident with silly putty that forced my mother to declare that she would NEVER, EVER buy it again. Sadly, she kept her word.
I loved everything about silly putty: It was a toy I could take anywhere inside its travelling egg case. It was malleable, sort of like play dough but also surprisingly different. It had an endless stretch if you pulled it apart slowly and a clean break if you ripped it apart fast. I liked that it bounced (even if it picked up strands of hair or bits of whatever else off the floor). I didn’t mind that the colour of it went from a pale pearly white to a dull grey because it did something else that was entirely miraculous: it glowed in the dark.
One night I got ready for bed in record time. I was tucked in, lights were out and for once I wanted it to be really dark. I’d been charging up my silly putty on a lightbulb for as long as my patience allowed before I took it under the covers I’d tented over my head. I had seen it glow a bunch of times already in my closet but this technique was better. It was super dark and it glowed more than ever. The coolest part was that when I stretched it really thin, I could see the tiny bits of stuff stuck in it that wasn’t silly putty. I didn’t get tired of stretching it and stretching it and stretching it, until of course I finally did and fell fast asleep.
In the morning silly putty was everywhere. It was in my hair, on my pyjamas, on the sheets, the blankets and, since I was such an active sleeper, it even found its way onto my mattress.
A weird haircut and lots of harsh words later, I was acutely aware that my silly putty days were over.
Currently, I’m taking a course with spiritual guide, Eckhart Tolle. So many of the teachings resonate but the wisdom that I have the most sincere desire to take-in and live is this:
“No relationship can be satisfying for long in the absence of the transcendent dimension.” —Eckhart Tolle
Even silly putty, Eckhart?
Yes. I am convinced he’d say that even my exhilarating and pure relationship with silly putty would have gone south. My fascination would have run its course. The egg container may have become too odd a shape to take everywhere. The bits of gunk I accumulated in it would have looked gross eventually. The stretch and snap would have been ‘just what it does’.
Think about all the stuff and achievements you’ve obtained in your lifetime that held the promise of happiness, of telling you who you are, of taking away your pain. All relationships, whether with another human being, with desired material possessions, work or other accomplishments, might make you happy at first but it doesn’t last for long if you are using these as distractions, as a way to fill yourself up or to ease your dis-ease about yourself.
This becomes most evident when the object of your attachment is withdrawn. Your neediness and clinging cause the real suffering although that won’t be what your mind tells you. Think about a specific situation in your own life and weigh the truth of this.
Without awareness of your own being, doesn’t everything have the potential to become a prop in the stories you tell yourself about yourself?
Until a commitment is made to practice presence; to reside in the joy of being, a joy without cause, then the same make-me-happy-demand on everything in life continues. It is a cycle I want to break for good. It is a cycle I want to help others break too.
Here is a practice to try: When you catch yourself irritated about something, decide to experiment with dropping the story you are telling yourself in regard to the irritation. Start small and be relentless. You might watch the feeling in your body associated with the irritation but instead of fuelling it with thought, notice what is simply there. Each time you want to contribute to the story in your head, move back to what is happening right where you are in the moment. Begin to cultivate awareness of being.
