Use by Expiration Date

All objects have an expiration date. Not in the long-term certainty that eventually they will be discarded, crumble and disintegrate, but in the other unavoidable truth that they will someday stop providing us pleasure. Sometimes this reality becomes a frustration, like when the music you used to love no longer does it for you—when even silence is preferable to listening to any one of the 10,000 songs you bought on iTunes. Thus, our never-ending search for more-better-different. 

Vedanta is right when it says to not hang your hat on object-oriented happiness. This kind of happiness, by nature, is uncertain, fleeting and unreliable. And we’re not just talking about the kind of happiness that requires a lot of maintenance and upkeep—like owning a boat or sustaining a passionate romantic relationship—we’re talking about actual expiration dates, like the kind you see on a carton of milk or a loaf of bread. Let’s face it, eventually that $3,000 mid-century black walnut coffee table you bought last month is going to blend in with all your other knick-knacks and cease to provide you with much, if any pleasure. This is a fact, not a likelihood. This is samsara, and it’s why they say life is a setup. If this weren’t the case, you would still be playing with all your childhood toys because they would still be providing you with hours of enjoyment. 

Where are your G.I. Joe, Micronauts, Atari 2600 game console or Pet Rock now? What about your first car? Remember when going to the arcade or playing mini-golf was still fun? Why do you still clean out your wardrobe each year, change diets, switch gyms and seek out new vacation spots? 

So, if life is a setup, what is it setting us up for? What’s the message? Should we just continue to seek out one temporary and ultimately, unsatisfactory joy after another? What happens when old age, financial restraints, war or a natural disaster restrict our ability to tap into certain joys? 

But what if there’s another way? 

What is it that never expires and is a permanent source of happiness? 

What if it’s closer than you think? 

What if it’s closer to you than, let’s say, your nose? 

From "The Broken Tusk - Seeing Through the Lens of Vedanta"