Can You Hear Me Now?

My cell phone died.

No, I don't mean it's broken, just the battery died. I have no idea where my wall charger is, but I've been charging my phone through the USB port in my computer without issue for some time now. I have recently learned that apparently you can charge your phone through your computer if it still has some battery left, but if it's completely dead your computer won't give it enough juice to bring it back to life.

Why am I talking about this? Because it finally reminded me of the impermanence of everything. I know the connection is somewhat weak, but hear me out on this. By my battery dying, my cell phone transitioned from being more or less a lifeline to... well... a useless overpriced hunk of plastic. This transition happened in minutes.

It also got me thinking about the meaning we assign to things. When my phone is working, I value it greatly. I use it to keep in contact with my parents and friends, check my work email when I'm not there, listen to music, and pure pointless entertainment as well. It means a lot to me to be able to do this. When it's not working, it's still the same phone. It's physical properties haven't changed, but I value it much less.

Why is that? I don't think I'm the only one here, and I'm not even still talking about a phone. Why do we, as humans, value things by what they can do for us? My job allows me to pay for the apartment that allows me to live independently with my cat who allows me to live alone without getting lonely which allows me to come and go as I please and do things on my own terms.... Get the point here?

Also, meanings are relative. I don't know of one person or thing in my life that exits in a vacuum. That's not a bad thing, it just speaks to the connectedness of everything. But really, can we please start to place meaning on things for what they are, rather than how they serve us? Constantly looking to people and things to do things for us seems like (in addition to using those people or things) saying that our lives aren't good enough. That we need this or that in order to be happy.

It's crap.

I don't need my cell phone to be happy. It's a convenience. That's it. I know that saying that right now means a little less, seeing as how I managed to charge my phone and it's all working again, but the point still stands. The panic I went through when it died was a pedantic tantrum, and nothing more. I still had internet here, I still had ways to contact people I needed, but it would have been less convenient.

As people, we look for the easiest, quickest way to get what we want. Sometimes we can't have it all like that. Sometimes we need to pull our heads out of our asses long enough to see that everything we need is right in front of us, but that doesn't mean it will be given to us. Nor should it be.