As we age there’s one thing we all must learn to come to terms with...loss.

I’m well into middle age now and loss, or more accurately fear of loss, circles high above me like a flock (or a kettle, according to Google) of vultures. Inevitably life plucks away the people, things, and eventually the freedoms we treasure one-by-one. This isn't something I really like to dwell on but every now and then I can't help but think about it.

All we really have is the present moment, right?

I found a story on social media today that I had never read before. It slapped me across the face and woke me in a beautiful, almost Buddhist, way. It exemplified a wise way to think of loss as we walk our journey on this Earth.

As so often is the case on social media the story was bastardized and misrepresented. After all, social media is just like the modern equivalent of “the telephone game”. Some of you younger readers may have never heard of the telephone game but the gist of it is this...each time a story or fact gets passed from one person to another it’s changed slightly or diluted in some way. These days this bastardization happens to all of the information we consume to the point that it's difficult to discern truth from fiction.

I got the impression that the person sharing this story about Kafka assumed that the event actually happened. In reality the story of Kafka's encounter with the little girl came from a work of fiction, author Paul Auster’s book, The Brooklyn Follies on page 153 to be exact.

In this case, the fact this event never actually happened doesn’t detract from the story’s gravity and value. It does, however, speak to the talent of the author and is a good reminder of the true power of the written word, whether it be fiction or nonfiction. It also speaks to the value of looking at life events through a different lens.

The story goes like this…

Franz Kafka encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.

Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot.

Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.

'Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures.'

This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.

When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained 'My travels have changed me.'

Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll

It read: 'Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.'

~Kafka and the Doll, The Pervasiveness of Loss

How beautiful is that?!

"Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form."

Take a deep breath. Let that sink in. Ponder it as you go about your day.

I hope you've enjoyed this post. Have a wonderful Sunday!

Eric

*I am an American novelist, poet, traveler, and crypto-enthusiast. If you’ve enjoyed my work please sign up for my author newsletter at my website. Newsletter subscribers will receive exclusive updates and special offers and your information will never be sold or shared.

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