After my unexpected jump in motivation yesterday, I have already gotten a fair bit of progress made. I sent off a large box of snolf books, and upon seeing how cheap media mail is, plan to do likewise with as many of my books as I can.

I can’t help but be reminded, as I start to dig through all the stuff I’ve accumulated, of the common admonition, “It’s just stuff”. While I certainly agree that a fair portion of people seem too focused on simply acquiring stuff—succumbing to the siren song of consumerism—and I am too often in that group myself, there’s stuff and then there’s stuff. And sometimes it can be hard to separate the two.

I think the most challenging aspect of what I’m facing is that not too long ago, I underwent an offloading of superfluous stuff: I don’t have a lot of furniture, for example, which for the most part is small-time stuff that can be fairly easily replaced if one isn’t terribly particular. (And even if one is, if one’s willing to pay the premium for new furniture.) I do have a lot of books, some of which I will probably never open ... but still, I’m reluctant to part with them. What if I do decide I need to read up on theories of perceiving again someday? That will be the toughest challenge ... and I admit right now that I will probably take the easy way out and keep most of them—I’m thinking of offering a few for sale here. Clothing can be gone through fairly ruthlessly, although I expect some waffling over some items I am fond of but probably will never fit into again (or shouldn’t be seen in again).

That leaves a broad swath of stuff still to be addressed. Things passed down in my family ... things from my own past that might be of interest or entertainment value to my children some day ... stuff that is replaceable, but that I don’t necessarily want to discard and replace. Sure, it’s been years since I’ve even looked at my stained glass supplies, but I remain interested in the craft; and it seems so wasteful to simply sell or toss it all just because I haven’t used it recently. Why not consign my aging crêpe pan to history, and get a new one for my new home? Well, because the one I have was given me by someone special to me; and it has figured in many a lovely meal, not to mention my development as a cook. There are memories in that pan ... and I wonder: without its visible reminder, how many of those memories might I lose if I do get rid of the crêpe pan?

And I think that is a strong element of why so many people hold on to so much stuff: for some of us, our trail of stuff is a tangible reminder of who we’ve been, where we’ve been, and what we’ve been doing. It helps mark our territory ... making a piece of earth familiar, making it home. Stuff can offer utility, beauty, memory, history ... So, no, even in my current, more cutthroat frame of mind in evaluating my property, I cannot agree with the general statement, “It’s just stuff”. My stuff is a cluttered, wandering, messy roadmap of me—partly as I was and partly as I am.

But then, I have always been extremely sentimental about some things ...