My Damn Pens Won’t Work

Why Letting Go of Broken Stuff is the Ultimate Power Move

Diamond-Michael Scott here, aka The Chocolate Taoist here with a quick request asking if you would be kind enough to consider becoming a paid member supporter. I would greatly appreciate your support as I aim to keep this daily content flowing like chocolate into your inbox. At $6.00/month or $60.00/year, every little bit counts.

I recently purchased a set of sleek, black Sharpie S-Gel pens from Target, expecting them to glide effortlessly across my journal, each word flowing like a river down a mountainside. But now, just a month later, these once-mighty writing instruments have betrayed me. 

The ink refuses to flow, the tip scratches instead of glides, and my hopes of a seamless creative process have been dashed. being the contemplative person I am, I immediately began to think:

“….what would Lao Tzu or Confucius say about such a mundane yet utterly aggravating problem?” 

“…..How does one move past this obsession with a malfunctioning object?”

“…And more importantly, what can meditation and mindfulness teach us about moving on from our attachment to what "should" work?”

The Tao of Malfunction

Lao Tzu, the sage behind the “Tao Te Ching,” would likely shrug at my frustration over a pen. "Those who know do not speak," he might say, but if he were to comment, perhaps he'd advise something along the lines of, "A wise man sees not the pen, but the hand that writes." In other words, it’s not the pen that is the issue—it's my attachment to its flawless function. 

Taoism is all about flowing with life, not against it. If my Sharpie no longer serves its purpose, I then simply need to let it go. I can replace it with another or, better yet, enjoy the blank space it leaves behind. 

Perhaps the ink's refusal to cooperate is the universe's way of suggesting that I practice calligraphy with a twig and some mud. 

Maybe all of this is simply a gentle reminder for me to embrace the unexpected!

Confucius and the Sharpie Conundrum

Confucius, on the other hand, might approach the situation differently. "The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones," he famously said. In the context of my now defunct Sharpies, perhaps he'd propose a more structured reflection. “Examine your process,” he might suggest. “Did you leave the pen uncapped too long? Did you misuse it?” 

Confucianism teaches the virtue of introspection and accountability. Confucius would likely encourage me to consider how my actions—or inactions—might have contributed to this malfunction. 

But he'd also remind me that life is about adapting and learning. Next time, maybe I should choose a fountain pen or consider the power of words spoken aloud rather than written.

Mindfulness: The Art of Detachment

So, what is my obsession with why these pens stopped working? Why am I wasting energy pondering a mystery that offers no valuable insight? Here is where mindfulness and meditation enter the picture. 

Imagine you are sitting quietly, focusing on your breath. A thought enters your mind: "Why do these pens no longer work?" You notice the thought but do not follow it. You let it pass like a cloud drifting across the sky. 

In mindfulness practice, we learn to recognize our obsessions and let them go without judgment or attachment. This allows us to conserve energy for more meaningful pursuits—like appreciating the empty page or taking a moment to consider the tactile joy of writing by hand.

Face the Impermanence and Move On

The key to navigating life's minor irritations, like defunct pens, is to embrace impermanence. Everything is in a state of constant flux, and my Sharpies are no exception. Today they work, tomorrow they don’t. It is a simple lesson in the nature of reality: nothing lasts forever, not even the ink of a reliable pen. 

Meditation can help us cultivate an attitude of acceptance. When we release our need for control over every small detail, we free ourselves to move forward. In the grand scheme of life, a pen that doesn't write is a minuscule problem. Let it serve as a gentle reminder of the greater dance of existence—sometimes things work, sometimes they don't, and that's perfectly okay.

So, what would Lao Tzu or Confucius do? They'd suggest we stop obsessing over why something isn't working and simply accept it as part of life's grand, unpredictable flow. Whether by meditation, mindfulness, or just good old-fashioned moving on, we learn that the answer isn't in fixing the pen but in fixing our relationship to the pen. As with all things, when we let go, we gain far more than we lose.

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