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The Paradox of Ownership
What we claim vs what claims us.
Have you ever imagined how vast the concept of ‘space’ is? It is undefined, broad, and expansive, waiting to be claimed. It exists in its way until someone steps into it, breathes life into it, and gives it meaning. But when does a space become a place? When do we start to belong?
As a Test Venue Supervisor, I escort test-takers to their desks. ‘This is your desk,’ I tell them. At that moment, a generic workstation transforms into being owned by a person. They arrange their mouse, keyboard, and screen with quiet familiarity, creating a sense of ownership. For three hours, this small corner of the room belongs to them. And then, as the test ends, they gather their belongings, push back their chairs, and leave. The desk, once ‘theirs,’ resets, ready for the next person.
When we lose someone, do we mourn the absence of our person, or do we grieve the part of ourselves that leaves with them? When we lose a job, is it the countless hours of effort slipping away, or the loss of our livelihood that weighs heavier on scale? It’s like a Schrödinger’s cat paradox — where we were present, yet not entirely, and what we once claimed as ours was never truly ours to begin with.
We build homes, decorate rooms, and fill shelves with books and memories. We call these places ours. But how…
