the Mine

It occurred to me today how funny the mine is. Yes, the mine, that association to what 'is' --essentially and/or existentially-- mine.

No big reason.. I saw somebody's pen break, and I didn't react to much at all except smile at their condition. And then I thought 'if it had been my pen, how frustrated I would be'. Why is it I wonder? …The inconvenience of going to the store aside, any object is just an object. But for some reason there are objects we associate so strongly with Me. It is mine. It is special.     ..not like those other things..

I think of any table packed with of all sorts of items.. my eye goes right back to the object I call mine, that I associate with me, however it may be that I acquired it (gift/bought/found/stolen, etc). To think of this table and somebody bashing every item on it.. I wouldn't mind too much until my own 'special' object were bashed, at which point I'd feel the tightening around the sternum. Even to know its somebody else's object, I don't embody or feel for them the same way as I do for what I call mine*. Even food for heaven's sake! the food from a dining room! Think of how you raise an eyebrow when somebody takes a bite of your food, checking to see what quantity exactly they just extracted.. Its funny how we associate to things like this, one day one thing, another day another thing and another thing.. this dining food right now, another plate of food at another time and so on..   and so incredibly  strongly as well. 

Its just funny. 

Mine. 

Is Mine. 

Is --essentially and/or existentially--      mine.

Where did the ontological connection come from? How did we come to take it so seriously? So incredibly volatile, the mine. Down the the small M&M's I'm not hiding in my hands.