Today’s Thought of the Day and Question of the Day are about the kinds of losses we can laugh about later—and the kinds we need to let go of before they undo us. We’re talking about detachment, unexpected returns (hello, Blackberry), and the fragile tightrope walk between joy and risk. Let’s dig in.
Thought of the Day: “Do not let your happiness depend on something you may lose.”
If we’re honest—most of us do let our happiness depend on things we can lose. Our job security. Our phone battery. Our kids’ behavior in public. Our ability to fit into the jeans we wore before the pandemic (or the last three stress-filled snack months).
But the real kicker is this: even the most precious, sacred parts of our lives are impermanent. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t love them deeply—it means we should love them wisely.
It’s not about becoming a minimalist monk who shrugs off attachment. It’s about building happiness on something steadier than circumstance. Something internal. Something that isn’t shaken every time your bank account takes a hit or someone forgets your birthday.
Here’s what I’ve learned the hard way: The more I root my joy in being needed, being praised, or being in control, the more life has a way of yanking the rug out. But the moments when I feel most grounded? They come when I’m grateful, present, and not clinging to the outcome.
It reminds me of what I wrote in this post about coming back to life—sometimes happiness isn’t lost, it’s just buried under all the things we thought we needed to be happy.
So ask yourself: What if joy isn’t a possession to guard, but a skill to practice—even when things go missing?
Question of the Day: What is the most expensive item you’ve ever lost?
I once lost a Blackberry. (Yes, those. The ones we all swore we’d never give up, because “real keyboards forever!”)
I think I left it behind at a local grocery store but details are fuzzy. Regardless, it vanished, and with it went a ridiculous amount of messages, contacts, and the illusion that I was a responsible adult who didn’t misplace things that cost more than my grocery budget.
Then, a full year later, I got a call from the local police station. They asked if I had recently lost a phone. I said yes, but define recently. Turns out someone turned it in—still working, still intact. My name was tied to the SIM, and they tracked me down like I was starring in an extremely boring episode of CSI: Suburbs.
It was a small miracle. And a bigger reminder: sometimes, what’s lost finds its way back to you. But more often, it doesn’t. And that’s okay too.
Because sometimes the lesson is about carelessness. Other times, it’s about release. And occasionally, it’s about realizing that even when we recover the thing—we’ve already grown beyond it.
Want more stories about loss and learning? Read:
What Have You Lost… and Found?
Whether it’s a phone, a piece of jewelry, a friendship, or a part of yourself you thought was gone—tell me about it. There’s always a story in what we lose and what we learn from it.
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