I have a thing for mugs. I don’t know for certain how it started, but I have a few ideas. Some of my fondest childhood memories occurred at my granny’s house, and she had an extensive collection of teacups that children were not allowed to touch under any circumstances.
The cups were kept in the living room on shelves that were too high for me to reach, so I would sit on the couch and stare at them, getting as close as I could without breaking the rules.
Some of the cups had fancy patterns on them, others were adorned with flowers and butterflies. There were a few that were emblazoned with the names of various cities and states. One of my favorites had Chicago written on it in bold red and yellow lettering.
So maybe my love affair with mugs has an element of forbidden fruit: I couldn’t get my hands on granny’s cups, so I bought some of my own.
The other option is a bit more prosaic, but it’s still interesting to think about. Perhaps it all comes down to utility. As I’ve grown older and life has made it harder to get a full eight hours of sleep each night, I’ve found myself relying on caffeine to make it through the day.
Generally, I start off strong. But the moment mid-afternoon hits, I need a cup of tea or coffee to ward off a midday nap. Painful experience has taught me that coffee tastes terrible when you drink it out of a paper cup. And drinking tea out of glass just feels weird.
So I started accumulating mugs out of necessity. At first, there was nothing special about them. They were standard, department store mugs that I picked up while stocking up on socks or laundry detergent.
But as the years progressed, something shifted. I started acquring mugs from other people. Perhaps a job I worked at would hand out mugs with the company logo or a family member would give me one as a gift. I also started being more intentional about my mug purchases. I bought some to commemorate a trip or a special occasion. I bought others because they reminded me of a favorite restaurant or a fond childhood memory.
After several years of this I realized that I wasn’t just collecting mugs. I was collecting stories and experiences that I associated with them.
For example, one of my favorite mugs is a small black one bearing the Marine Corps logo. As far as mugs go it’s fairly nondescript, but each time I use it I’m reminded of my old platoon and the adventurous times we shared together.
Another was a fun gift from a family member. When it is filled with tea, the mug looks quite ordinary. But as I drink from it, and the level of the tea becomes lower, a small cat becomes visible on the bottom.
As a cat-lover, this one always brings a smile to my face. And it makes me think of small bits of mischief that my cats, Henry and Enso, have committed.
I’m fond of my mug collection and I’m confident that it will only grow larger as the years pass. But there is a tension here. In Buddhism, we are taught that suffering is caused by desire. And one of the ways to end desire and the suffering that goes along with it is through the practice of non-attachment.
When we practice non-attachment, we systematically let go of things in our lives, limiting our possessions and our desires so that our existence becomes simpler and more peaceful. The extreme end of this practice can be found in the lives of orthodox Theravada monks who eat only what is given to them and have no possessions outside of two robes and a bowl.
This allows them to devote more time and mental energy into Buddhist training and the pursuit of enlightenment. This high level of restraint works well for Buddhist monks. But how do householders, people with jobs and families, put non-attachment into practice?
For my part, the realization that I attach stories to each of the mugs in my collection caused me to realize that I attach stories to almost all of my possessions. Sometimes the stories are healthy and life-affirming, sometimes they are not.
If I find that one of my possessions elicits bad memories or negative feelings, I limit my use of it or throw it away. If I find that one of my possessions is helpful, that it elicits fond memories, or helps me to end suffering for myself and others, I keep it.
My mugs have shown me that nonattachment doesn’t require us to have nothing. But it does require us to be selective in what we possess. Like a skilled collector, we must hold on to the things that serve us and discard the rest.
Namu Amida Butsu
Related features from BDG
Beginner’s Mind: The Timeless Art of Being: A Contemplative Resistance in a Burnout Society
The Dharma of Money
Anam Thubten Rinpoche On Non-attachment, Being a Buddhist Gypsy, and Impermanence
The relationship between non-attachment and unconditional love in Buddhism
