When we embrace the impermanence of things, we begin to value life more deeply
Ownership is temporary. Possessions are fleeting. But our values, actions, relationships, and stories — these endure
By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden
The Illusion of Ownership
From the moment we are born, we are conditioned to accumulate. Toys in childhood, gadgets in youth, homes in adulthood, and inheritance in old age — life appears to revolve around what we own. Yet, beneath the surface of this accumulation lies an undeniable truth: nothing we possess is truly ours forever. The idea of ownership is not only fragile but, in many ways, illusory. In a world marked by mortality, unpredictability, and change, can we really claim to own anything? Or are we mere custodians, passing through time with borrowed possessions?
This article delves into the philosophical, cultural, and ethical dimensions of ownership. Through real-life case studies and reflective questions, it challenges conventional notions of material success and invites readers to consider what truly matters in the short and beautiful journey of life.
Impermanence of Ownership
Ownership, when examined deeply, is a temporary arrangement. Land we “own” may be sold or inherited; houses are bought and lost; even our own bodies eventually return to the earth. Mortality is the great equalizer, reminding us that all possessions are borrowed.
Consider the story of Syed Jameeluddin, a wealthy merchant in Hyderabad who owned multiple properties and businesses. After his sudden passing during the pandemic, legal battles over his estate erupted. While he had once been viewed as the controller of a vast empire, in death, he became a memory — his wealth no longer his to manage. This is not just his story, but humanity’s. We take nothing with us, regardless of how much we owned.
Religions reinforce this. Islam teaches, “To Allah belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth” (Qur’an 2:284). Buddhism emphasizes Anicca — the impermanence of all things. Even Christianity asks, “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”
Ownership, then, is not a right but a fleeting relationship.
Material Possessions vs. Emotional and Spiritual Wealth
In our race to acquire, we often neglect the most nourishing aspects of existence — love, peace, empathy, joy, and contentment. These intangible forms of wealth are harder to quantify but infinitely more enduring.
Meet Fatima Begum, a widow in rural Sindh with no property to her name. Yet, she is revered in her village for her wisdom, kindness, and generosity. People seek her advice, children run to her with their joys and sorrows. She “owns” nothing, yet she is rich in every meaningful sense of the word.
Contrast this with the story of Amir, a corporate executive who owns a penthouse, multiple cars, and a high-ranking title. He confided in a therapist about his chronic anxiety, loneliness, and existential despair. His material abundance brought no emotional or spiritual satisfaction.
What do we truly seek? A full wardrobe or a full heart? A bank account or a peaceful mind?
Tangible vs. Intangible Assets
In business, tangible assets are things you can touch — land, machines, cash. Intangible ones are goodwill, brand reputation, and innovation capacity. This same framework applies to life.
The relationships we cultivate, the lessons we learn, the impact we leave — these are our intangible assets. They don’t depreciate like cars or fade like fashion. They accumulate value through time and human connection.
Consider Abdul Sattar Edhi. He lived in simplicity yet possessed an ocean of humanitarian goodwill. His assets — compassion, trust, humility — remain more valuable than any building he could have bought.
Cultural and Philosophical Views on Ownership
Ownership is a deeply cultural concept. In indigenous communities, such as the Maori in New Zealand or the First Nations in Canada, land is not “owned” but belongs to. It is sacred, not to be exploited but to be honored. There is a collective responsibility toward nature and the future, not individual possession.
Philosophically, the Stoics taught that external goods are beyond our control and hence should not be sources of our identity. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “You may leave this life today. Let that determine what you do and say and think.”
In contrast, modern capitalist cultures equate ownership with success. The more you own, the more powerful you are perceived. Yet this worldview is now being questioned, especially by younger generations exploring alternatives like co-living, shared economies, and minimalist lifestyles.
Legacy: What Do We Leave Behind?
The most powerful legacies are not measured in rupees or square footage, but in impact. What do people say about us when we’re gone? How do they remember us?
Nelson Mandela left no vast fortune, but his legacy of justice and reconciliation transformed South Africa and inspired millions worldwide. Mother Teresa had no bank account, but her service lives on in thousands of missionaries.
On a smaller scale, we all know someone, a teacher, an elder, a parent, whose wisdom or love shaped our lives more than any material gift could. Their legacy is etched in our behavior, values, and decisions.
What we own fades. What we give remains.
Minimalism and Detachment
Minimalism isn’t about deprivation. It’s about intentionality — owning only what adds value. It’s a rebellion against clutter, chaos, and consumerism.
Joshua Fields Millburn, co-founder of The Minimalists, once lived the American dream with a six-figure job and a big house. After losing his mother and marriage in the same month, he reevaluated his life. He let go of 90% of his possessions and found more space — literally and emotionally — to live.
In Pakistan, minimalism is emerging among youth, rejecting the pressure of extravagant weddings, brand addiction, and the culture of “show.” A shift is underway toward simpler living, more time with family, and less time chasing things.
In Sufi thought, detachment (Zuhd) is a spiritual path. Letting go is not a loss, but liberation.
Ownership in the Age of Consumerism
We live in an era where ownership is aggressively marketed. From smartphones to smart homes, buying is made seamless, sometimes addictive. Social media compounds it, turning our lives into exhibitions of material worth.
But this consumerism is unsustainable — environmentally, emotionally, and financially. The earth groans under our plastic dreams and carbon-fueled aspirations. Depression, anxiety, and debt soar as we seek fulfillment through things that cannot satisfy.
A recent study in Karachi found that young adults who spent excessively on fashion and tech reported lower life satisfaction compared to those who spent on experiences like travel or learning.
The more we own, the more we fear losing. Ownership, in this sense, becomes a burden.
Ethics of Possession and Hoarding
What are the ethics of having more than we need while others go without? In a world where millions lack clean water, how do we justify ten watches or five cars?
In Sindh, there are villages where children still walk miles for water, while luxury housing societies nearby consume more in a day than those villages in a month. The moral tension is palpable.
Religious teachings warn against hoarding. The Qur’an condemns those who “hoard gold and silver” and fail to use it in the path of good. Hinduism speaks of Aparigraha — non-possessiveness. Jesus said, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.”
Possession becomes unethical when it disconnects us from the suffering of others.
Time, Relationships, and Experiences as Real Possessions
Perhaps what we truly own — if anything — is the way we spend our time. A shared laugh with a friend. An evening under the stars. A story told by a grandparent. These are real possessions, not because they are kept, but because they are lived.
A Pakistani couple, Shehla and Fahad, decided to sell their house and travel with their savings. “People said we were crazy,” Shehla laughs. “But we’ve seen sunsets in Santorini, danced in the streets of Havana, and cried at Auschwitz. These memories are our wealth.”
Our time is finite. Our experiences are the only assets that death cannot confiscate.
Leaving the World with Balance Zero
There is a powerful Japanese and Buddhist-inspired idea: “Die with a balance of zero.” Not financially, but emotionally, spiritually, and ethically. It means having used everything you were given — time, talents, money, compassion — in service of others and the self.
This concept echoes in Sufi and Stoic thought. Don’t depart this world with unused kindness, unspoken love, or unshared blessings. Distribute what you can while you live, not after you’re gone.
An example comes from a humble bookseller in Lahore named Khalid. For 40 years, he ran a small roadside stall. As he neared the end of his life, he gave away his entire collection to neighborhood schools, teachers, and young readers, without charging a rupee. “I came empty,” he said, “and I wish to go empty—but fulfilled.”
This is the wisdom of balance: zero — living fully, giving freely, dying peacefully.
Living with Less, Loving with More
Ownership is temporary. Possessions are fleeting. But our values, actions, relationships, and stories — these endure. When we embrace the impermanence of things, we begin to value life more deeply. We consume less, hoard less, and give more. We live not to impress, but to connect.
We stop asking, “What do I own?” and start asking, “What do I give?” We shift from acquisition to contribution, from clutter to clarity.
Ultimately, the question is not how much we own, but how well we live.
So let us live as if everything is borrowed — gently, gratefully, and generously — and leave this world with a balance of zero, but a heart full of meaning.
Read – Geopolitics: Wounds Without Borders
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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.
