“In the end, it doesn’t matter how many breaths you take,
but how many moments took your breath away.”
— Shing Xiong
This quote has always lingered with me, but recently, during a quiet stay in the Berkeley Hills, its truth resonated even more deeply.
The home where I was staying had a sweeping, cinematic view—San Francisco Bay, Mt. Tamalpais, the Golden Gate Bridge, ferries dancing across the water. Every day offered a picture-perfect backdrop, and I spent hours soaking it all in. Until the one day I’d set aside to write uninterrupted… when the entire view disappeared under a blanket of thick fog.
In the past, this would’ve triggered frustration: “Why today? Why now?” I might’ve told myself a story about how the moment was ruined. But thanks to years of inner work and self-inquiry, something shifted. Instead of disappointment, I felt presence. A quiet, unexpected peace. And even, yes—enjoyment.
The fog, instead of becoming a barrier, became a muse.
The Subtle Difference Between Enjoyment and Attachment
Enjoyment is about presence. It’s about fully experiencing what is without clinging to how you think it should be.
Attachment, on the other hand, ties our happiness to conditions—weather, people, productivity, outcomes. We begin to believe joy is only possible if certain variables align.
This distinction may seem small, but it’s everything.
Over the years, I’ve come to see that enjoying something doesn’t mean we need to own it, keep it, or repeat it. True enjoyment arises when we allow ourselves to be moved—by a sunset, a song, a memory, a bite of mango—and then release the moment as it fades.
We often think of attachment only in big, dramatic terms—relationships, careers, dreams. But the more subtle forms are just as potent: wanting the view to stay clear so we can feel inspired, wanting the fruit in our garden to be untouched, wishing someone would change so life would be easier.
Life on Its Terms, Not Ours
That same day, I received a text that shattered my heart. A boy from our neighborhood had died from an overdose. I knew the family. I’d even tried to help. But they weren’t ready.
No weather pattern, no mindset, no spiritual practice can shield us from the rawness of grief. But how we meet it—whether with resistance or surrender—can change everything.
Inner mastery isn’t about controlling life. It’s about living skillfully in the face of its uncontrollable nature. When we release attachment to what we can’t change, we create space for what we can: connection, presence, compassion.
We can’t force someone to be ready. We can’t manipulate nature, economics, or time. But we can notice beauty, give generously, and be moved by simple things.
We can practice en-joyment—letting joy in, without holding on.
A Gentle Practice: One Moment of Joy a Day
The antidote to attachment isn’t detachment. It’s appreciation.
Try this:
- Notice one small, real thing today that brings you a flicker of joy.
- Let it in—fully.
- Let it touch your body, your mind, your heart.
- And then… let it go.
It might be a flower. A smell. A laugh. A beat in a song. A smile from someone you love. The way your coffee tastes.
Practice this every day.
Life’s not about locking in happiness and never letting go. It’s about dancing with it while it’s here, knowing it will change—and trusting more will come.
When we trade attachment for enjoyment, we become freer. Lighter. More alive.
* From www.goodreads.com
* *From www.awakenthegreatnesswithin.com
