Recently I was sitting in my nice chair listening to nice jazz sipping a nice glass of wine and enjoying my nice home in a very nice mood. I found myself taking a mental inventory of all that was in my sight. I looked at each picture on the wall, each Buddhist statue, each table, chair, and so on. Everything had significance in some way to my life; everything had meaning, a story behind it. And I sat there quite comfortably recalling all those stories. Some were simple, some were not, but all had value. Then I wondered what I would miss if it all went away in some tragedy. Would I miss each item, I wondered? I looked around at all my stuff and realized no, that I would not miss all the items in my home that I have taken so many years to collect. What I would miss is the reminder they give me of theirs and my wonderful history together. If I don't have that picture anymore I will forget about Gloria giving it to me. If I don't have that book I will forget about finding it in that used book store. If I don't have that couch I will forget about Robbie helping moving it here for me. And so on. Every item had a story, I realized, and I was not attached to all of my things nearly as much as I was attached to my story behind each of them. But who tells that story? Me. I do. So, following that logic train I realized that really what I am attached to is the story teller, which would be ME, this thing I call a SELF. Hmm... sound familiar?