Freedom in the Fall

I've been reflecting on all that I've lost lately, like the last four months. Loss of my sense of self, loss of being able to express that lost sense of self vocally, loss of my Airpods while on vacation to Cuba, loss of my relationship, loss of my best friend, loss of dignity, loss of my ability to love another human being. And while all of that loss is sad, its also the most free I've ever been. That statement alone reminds me of Epictetus' Discourses about how you should free yourself from all attachment from the things you can't control if you want to be happy and attain peace. True peace and happiness, not the fake kind of doom scrolling to infinity. The best explanation of this is with a comment to a Reddit post.

"Take for example wishing a seed to grow into a flower. Of course, you can do everything you can to make sure the seed has the best chance of growing into a flower like putting it in fertile soil, putting fertilizer, watering the seed, making sure it has enough sunlight, etc., yet it's not a guarantee that the seed will grow into a flower. The future is not guaranteed and in this unpredictable, absurd world, something as simple as the seed is planted too deep or too shallow which might have been overlooked or the seed could have been eaten by mice, birds, or wireworms. This is not to say that we have no control over our immediate future; of course, we can do things that will increase our chances, but it's futile to put all our hope that the outcome will go our way because as the article states, that will only end in frustration, insecurity, and anxiety."

The article in question is: https://www.reddit.com/r/philosophy/comments/15f6tvg/if_you_wish_to_have_peace_and_contentment_release/

So now I sit with it; the silence, the emptiness, the vast, uncertain future. And I wonder: if everything I once clung to has fallen away, what remains that is truly mine? Epictetus would say only my will; only my judgment; only the inner citadel. Perhaps that’s the lesson buried in all this loss; that what is taken was never truly mine to begin with. What’s left is the space to examine what I am, without distraction. without illusion. And maybe, just maybe, that space is sacred.