A Blessing in Diguise.

It quite saddens me to contemplate the prospective demolition of my greenhouse on Monday, for greenhouses enclose a singular space suffused with a wholesome and gentle sense of tamed fecundity. I’ve been used to having it to hand for nearly eleven years now, and the loss of anything valuable is always a little irksome.

But today it struck me that for most of those years the rise of gale or storm force winds produced a sense of anxiety. The old greenhouse, being made of wood, was clearly going the way of the aged and becoming weaker, and elemental blasts always kept me on edge waiting for the sound of smashing glass and cracking timber that was inevitable in the fullness of time. Now I have one thing less to worry about, so maybe there’s a sense of relief to be taken after all.

And maybe that suggests the truth of a doctrine common in Vedic philosophy – that while it’s perfectly fine to enjoy the pleasant accoutrements of life, it’s equally a mistake to grow attached to them. Attachment, they say, is the root of all suffering. It’s a moot point which makes no allowance for our need of rollercoasters, but it’s still a point worth considering.