Awhile back, I got another computer and transferred all of the information from my old computer to my new one, feeling confident that everything had transferred successfully. Some time later, when I went to look for an article I had written, I couldn't find any of my old documents.
I started to panic because I had erased and reformatted the hard drive on my old computer and had given it to my mom. The sense of loss that I felt was amazing! I felt like something had just died. What if I had lost everything I had written over the past several years? What if I was being asked to let go of it all and just move on from there?
There were all kinds of treasures besides my writing; conversations with dear friends, different teachings and articles that I had found of interest, and all kinds of things that could not be reproduced. After a short time of stunned grief and personal heartbreak, I started looking around to see if I could possibly find my imported information somewhere on my computer.
What I finally discovered, was that I could log into my old hard drive information by signing in under my old user name (who knew) and after a bit of time had set up my computer using my old profile. Voila! There was all of my old stuff and even my old screen saver. I then copied all of it onto an external hard-drive. Something I should probably have done before I ever migrated everything over to my new computer, and then I added it to my new profile.
What an interesting exercise in letting go. The thing that struck me is that this is precisely what we experience when we are dying; a letting go of everything that we have thought, or done, or produced in this lifetime. It is not really gone. But, we must release our attachment to it. During my brief moment of loss that wasn't really a loss, I realized that nothing is ever lost. Even if I couldn't recover the hard copies of the things that I had written or learned, their effects were still there. It is only my need for a false sense of security that has me hanging on to the need to have them present.
Perhaps I can go through my day with a little less clinging to what I think is real, that really isn't real at all...just a thought.