I am grateful that my brain is wired in a way that enables me to grasp the complex harmonies of Stravinsky, Prokofiev, and Hindemith. But it that a possession? Some esoteric force in the universe enabled me to capture and keep the heart of the world’s most beautiful woman thirty-two years ago. Is that a possession? I was fortunate enough to get my genes into the future in the form of a son that I’ve cherished for twenty-nine years. Is that, too, a possession?
Funny, but it seems that the things I value most—entities I might, through the faultiness of human arrogance, claim as possessions—are not possessions at all. Like anyone else, I’m fond of my hardware but wouldn’t want to live a day without my software.
Michael's Corner 
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