Bleh, Buddha

Just checking in, staying in the habit, yackyackyack. I had some deeply spiritual thoughts this morning but managed to squelch them by noon.
No, seriously. I got to thinking about books I've owned. I like books and will buy them if they have pretty pics, historical significance, etc. One time I bought a beautiful book on herbal lore written by Culpeper who everyone thought knew his shit in the dark ages. Beautiful book with lots of hand drawn pctures of herbs, delightful passages on bodily "humours" (you don't want to know). Well, one day during some very bad times, I'd pawned everything of real value but, still needing money for gasoline, I sold some of my treasured books-including Culpeper's Herbal.
Usually I look back on these memories and want to cry but this time (going over and over this shit is known as OCD...rememeber that, kiddies) I started thinking about that Zen story-the one where the monk burns his wooden statue of Buddha to stay warm.
I enjoyed the book when I had it. I sold the book when I needed something else. There is no loss there, only necessity. Only replacement. Why be attached to mere things? They serve their purpose and then their time is over.
My next thought was about people. Loved ones-how precious they are. I can't apply the same cold-hearted theory to people. When they die, it hurts and their loss leaves a hole in my life. There is no way around that. I don't know if Buddhism has an answer for that one. I do know that, regardless of circumstances, of things, of people who are present or not, I am as content as I choose to be. Contentment must come from within, not from things or even other people.
And I do mean contentment, not happiness. Happiness is a fleeting thing like a raindrop in the desert. When happiness comes, I enjoy it but I don't get used to it or come to expect it. Like I said, I'd banished all of these thoughts before noon but dammit, I've got to fill this blog with something.