It is more enjoyable spending time outside when the temperature drops and the air isn’t saturated with humidity. The stickiness is nothing more than a tease, magnified by the falling water table and the rainfall deficit. It hardly seems fair for such diametrically opposed conditions to coexist, but life doesn’t always function in absolutes.
I was cutting the grass and thinking about the willdfires. While I absolutely detest mowing, weeding and trimming shrubs, I was acutely aware that I was damn lucky to have the burden. When compared to camping at Qualcomm Stadium and not knowing if your home was pile of ashes, pushing a mower seems rather benign.
I considered the people in California who will be starting over after the embers have smoldered, and tried placing myself in their shoes. I’ve accumulated a lifetime’s worth of stuff. What if I only had the clothes on my back and a few mementos from the past? I wonder, if I were relieved physical possessions, would I evolve into a better person?
Things distort our view of the world. Few in American society are immune to materialism. If I were less obsessed with technological conveniences, would I better appreciate the world around me? Mankind functioned for centuries without SUVs, cell phones, hell, even shoes, why can’t I allow two days to pass without checking my e-mail, or relying upon my microwave?
Simplicity. The years following college, I lived in an old duplex. The only grounded outlet was in the bathroom. My decorating style resembled refugee/garage sale. The furniture was either hand-me-down or reclaimed. Most of the time, I didn’t have a working television. I kept a broken one in my living room so friends wouldn’t pity me. I only had to track five bills a month. I never suffered from lack. All my needs were met. I appreciated what I had.
There’s a fine line, a place where stuff makes things easier and improves the quality of life, and on the other side, a darker place, in which we collect so much we no longer appreciate, much less, enjoy the things we have. Accumulation may elevate our status in terms of society’s class system, but do things really make us happier?
I’m not likely to abandon to all my possessions because I’m overcome by the weight of decadence, but I am trying to streamline my need for things. Consideration is given to things that no longer make my life easier and more fulfilling. Perhaps they will fill a void in someone else’s life, someone who needs, or enjoys the item for its function. If it becomes a status symbol collecting dust in their closet, so be it, I’ve no interest in judging them, only coming to terms with what I can live with in my own life.
I hope I haven’t left the impression that I believe those starting over after the wild fires will have it easier, having been stripped of the burden of things. I don’t believe it for a moment. An insurance check is hardly a suitable substitute for a house full of memories, photo albums, a bed room suit passed down from great grandmother, and the daunting task of starting over.
If you’re interested in more information about the fire locations and their status, here is an interesting resource.
October 27th, 2007 at 2:29 pm
You know, it’s interesting. My mom went through hurricane katrina and now my dad and brother are in the middle of the fires. What it boils down to, for me, is this. Conveniences don’t keep you from appreciating the world around you, perspective does.
October 27th, 2007 at 5:06 pm
I try not to let my things own me. But my partner loves stuff. So he has more of it than i do, but of necessity, the stuff is in our house (or the garage.)
Once, i moved out of a place and only took the stuff i wanted. It was freeing.
Thanks for the link.
October 28th, 2007 at 12:29 am
i started over once, but by choice. and it was amazing. and yet to have it taken from you…well that’s a whole other deal isn’t it.
this is a really terrific post.
October 28th, 2007 at 4:56 pm
Good question.
Years ago, a few months after my mother died. I was burned out of my home. I lost my cat, the silver, heirloom items.
I was lucky to have been left with the jewellery the photos(!), some larger furniture, some of my clothing.
I was in art school at the time. Poorer than a pile of dust, and grieving the loss of both parents etc boo hoo hoo. But that fire. man. It was scary. And the rebuilding was so hard.
October 28th, 2007 at 8:15 pm
flutter, you nailed it. The boundary between convenience and excess is the one that causes me pangs of guilt. The place where you ask yourself, “How many computers or weed eaters do I really need?
meno, my better half is something of a pack rat. I’ve been trying to get rid of things since we combined households, all overlap not being necessary, hoping he might be encouraged to do the same. No such luck. I think for him some things are proof of accomplishment. I don’t begrudge him his trophies, until it prevents mobility in the garage.
I think in some ways it would easier to start over, than to go through the process of culling out and sorting.
jen, when I was asking myself this questions, I didn’t factor means into the equation. The scenario changes entirely if you don’t have an insurance settlement to rely upon.
crazymumma, when I wrote this I was thinking of it from the pov of someone with the resources to begin again (insurance). Pretty short-sighted of me, huh? I know it was difficult overcoming so much adversity all at once. It’s much easier to set up a philosophical debate, than to find a place to live, determine what you need, and sell enough blood to get started.
October 29th, 2007 at 12:28 am
A few years ago, the wildfires in California came very close to our house. Close enough for the sheriffs department to bang on our door at 1:30 am. I loaded my van with things that I thought were important (photos, important papers, clothing for a few days, the computer tower, medicine). Fortunately our house was spared, and we were able to unpack the van after a few days…but before I unpacked the ‘important stuff’ I found myself wondering why I insist on keeping all of the other stuff that clearly wasn’t really important enough to take with me.
That experience, has made it easier for me to get rid of some stuff, but I still find myself holding onto things, just because. sigh
October 29th, 2007 at 10:30 pm
Lynn, wow, you guys were lucky. It’s not easy to let go of things all at once. I haven’t been able. I’ve been cleaning clothes out of my closet little by little for the past three months. I move a load into the spare bedroom to donate. A week later, I repeat the process, and move more clothes. Part of it is familiarity, and the other part is memory. These things, no matter how useless, stimulate my memory.
October 29th, 2007 at 11:11 pm
Starting over. Yeah, it hasn’t been all it’s cracked up to be. But the fire that was created in my life was created in a secret room and smoldered for a long time. It’s traumatic because it’s my trauma and personal to me, but it’s nothing like a wild act of nature.
October 30th, 2007 at 1:00 pm
Hello there missy - I am just trying to catch up, and I have to throw my hat into liv’s ring. My “personal fire” left me with very few things - photo albums, etc. I would be devastated to lose them now. In the BF’s house, I feel like I am constantly throwing things away, things that have been saved as a reminder of a man dead many years. Do they really have that much significance?
October 31st, 2007 at 1:02 pm
I’m a clutter person. My five year old has inherited that from me. I’m trying hard to really pare down things I don’t need. Because really, most of it - I don’t need.
My sister and brother in law were evacuated from their home in San Diego - but luckily their home was not touched by the fires. I know so many were.
October 31st, 2007 at 1:07 pm
Again, I find myself in complete agreement with you. I often wonder why it is I have accumulated things that really are meaningless to me, and why I continue to hang on to them, regardless. The attachment is there but it is a shallow attachment, and I keep them because it costs me nothing to keep and I have no need to be rid of them. Nonetheless I wonder if my life would be simpler and more enjoyable without them…
Your post reminds me of an old Shaker (or Quaker?) song: “tis the gift to be simple”
Tis the gift to be simple
Tis the gift to be free
Tis the gift to come down
where we ought to be
And when we find ourselves
in the place just right
Twill be in the valley
of love and delight
And when true simplicity is gained
To bow and to bend,
We’ll not be ashamed to turn
To turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning,
We come down right.
October 31st, 2007 at 3:37 pm
QT, I think we save some things out of habit. I have been fortunate not to have been in the same situation as you and Liv. Starting over physically is one thing, but starting over spiritually and emotionally….whew. Things shouldn’t be an issue, until they take precedence over people.
sari, I’ll save stuff for a few years, then I’ll forget about it, find it, and then get rid of it. My current desire to simplify started when I help file papers for my in-laws. Ten years worth of mailing labels from Reader’s Digest and Easter Seals…It changes a person. How’s the newest? For that matter, how are you recovering?
rachel, what a lovely song. I have a collection of “temporary items”. I pick up sticks, shells, butterflies, whatever and keep them in my studio for rainy day inspiration. Those items have a purpose, if not a permanence. It’s the three year collection of Popular Science magazines, that I can’t seem to part with or justify, hence the shallow attachment.
November 3rd, 2007 at 12:38 am
“My decorating style resembled refugee/garage sale. The furniture was either hand-me-down or reclaimed.” You’ve just described my current home! LOL. Except for the tv. My husband is a cornucopia of techno info. As for our thrift store goodies, it’s by choice. I don’t take for granted one second that I could buy new Macy’s stuff in a minute if I chose to. But like you, I think we can get too caught up in consumerism. When is enough enough? I love thrifting for the simplicity - the reuse - the stories that come from objects that might have been forgotten but have been given new life. I like to view scarred people that way. We must look past the surface to the solid pieces underneath.
November 3rd, 2007 at 11:10 am
This entry (and the comments) prompted me to do an exercise a few days ago, wherein I pretended that I had to start over on my own, somewhere else. I walked into each room, looked around and decided what I absolutely had to take, would hate to replace. Turns out, most of the furniture stays behind. Just about all of the clothing. From the kitchen I take my fancy measuring cups, the perfect bamboo spoon, my coffee mug, a teapot in my favorite shade of blue, a glass jar of sand and a sand dollar from Cannon Beach sent to me by Meno. Even the original art on the wall, the things I was sure I’d take without question, I find I take one piece for every five.
Interesting exercise.
November 5th, 2007 at 9:59 pm
good post. I think sometimes people have so much stuff because they live in such big places that they have to fill the voids. I know that there are things that I would miss should they be taken from me but in the end I know that all that would matter in such instances is if my loved ones (including pets) were safe. Having evacuated for volacanoes, floods, tsunmais, avalanches, and fires I have been lucky not to lose anything but at those times the material things mattered not a whit in the face of the safety of those I loved.
November 7th, 2007 at 3:45 pm
mama P, we get so preoccupied with aesthetics. My better half suggested we look for new dishes a few weeks ago, because ours are scratched and scuffed. I gave him one of THOSE looks, and he backed off. I think he assumed I would prefer shiny and new, and fsometimes I do, I just get disgusted with how disposable lifestyles are becoming. It bothers me that it is easier to replace things than to repair them. I like what you said about scarred people. As a society, we’ve become too busy to get to know people for who they really are.
nancy, that is an interesting exercise. Glancing around the living room, I feel much the same way you do. The art art and the cats are my major weakness, followed by laptop. I collect rocks from places I visit now instead of little plastic crap. Strange as it sounds it means more to me.
wayfarer welcome back from vacation. Having evacuated so frequently, has given you plenty of opportunity to put things into perspective. Being caught u in the moment, doesn’t allow much time to make decisions. That’s an excellent point about filling voids. We experienced that when we moved into a larger place. I think sentimentality factors in as well. I tend to associate memories with certain things, rather than functionality, or enjoyment.
November 11th, 2007 at 6:33 pm
P.s. Help me! I need advice! Come see.