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 ...
“It’s Just Stuff”
Sympathy
Having moved more than 40 times in my life, much of it as a Marine brat, I learned early not to get attached to things too much. That has been both good and bad, of course.
My last move - and I pray it IS my LAST move - to Wyoming was after 17 years in one place, and I wound up leaving about 80% of the stuff behind. It was traumatic in many ways, but it doesn't bother me now.
My Mother always told us that we were lucky to just be moving - so we could choose those few things we could take. We were always advised to compare it to having a fire instead...
Keep the good memories, and the stuff that goes with them if you can. Keep the timeless and classic books, but forget the rest. I kept all my old college nursing books for many years, for instance, and then when I packed to come here realized how sadly out of date and irrelevant they all were. I sent them to missionaries in Peru or somewhere.
I suspect all things are relative. Just do the best you can, and don't get caught up in too much anguish over it, or guilt, or let it paralyze you into inaction.
Come home to the west...
It might all be a thing of perception...
I stipulate that it is not enough that we own a thing in the ethical/legal abstract. Perhaps it's more important, in this sense, that we value a thing, or that it is, in some sense, caught up in what we see in and as being ourselves. I submit that a certain volume on my shelf is more precious than all the others, though I paid far less for it than for all but a few. It's not the most generally useful, being a general exposition on a single field of human knowledge, but it meant so much to me when I read and understood it. That experience, and its importance to me, is what ensures that I'll keep that book handy for as long as I can. It's also the only book that, despite being a theoretical work and just begging for it, I'll never mark up. I like it just as it is.
Stuff!
Up until recently, I have had a hard time getting rid of stuff. Books are my big weakness. I'd almost rather part with my left arm than toss a book. Now that I am committed to moving out of town, I find it much easier to get rid of stuff. I plan to make my next move with one pickup load, and so I have been pretty brutal when it comes to getting rid of stuff, and it's been pretty easy. I just got rid of a whole pile of books, and have managed to clean out my "electronic junkyard" almost completely. No "stuff" is going to make it harder for me to accomplish my goals. If my family members and I can manage to stay healthy for a while, I should be able to move in a few months with no troubles.