Stuff is temporary.  We surround ourselves with it.  We place high importance on it.  We often define ourselves by it.  Yet, we exist when it’s gone.  Nice car, lovely home, fancy gadgets – all just stuff.  I’m not immune to it.  I have a lot of stuff.  Even if we don’t have a lot of stuff, we often cherish the few things we have.  That thing our grandfather gave our dad who gave it to us.  We hold onto it.  We make room for it in our life.  We push things out of our lives to make space for it.  We collect books, photos, and mementos.  We covet them. We look to them to enumerate us.  We love little black dresses, dark mascara, tiny straps, and tall heels.  We see our beauty in them.  We look to them in good times and in bad times.  At the center of stuff is the life we have built.  When it vanishes, what do we have?  We have the life we have built.  Only our experience persists.  Stuff is temporary.