I sat in the attic, staring at an ocean of boxes that were strewn about but still somewhat organized. One cluster was a combination of luggage and camping gear. Another was clearly Christmas decorations, except it wasn't exactly clear because somewhere in the cluster it turned into Christmas clothes, then simply clothes, and then an old humidifier ...
OK, so none of it was organized. Anyway, I guess I should explain why I was up there.
You see, I'm kind of a romantic old soul, with a personality not focused on material possessions. That, combined with the fact that I am only 25 and not yet a parent, allows me one of my favorite fantasies: that, at any time, I be able to pick up my things and head on down whatever dusty trail my life diverts onto.
You never know when you might have a major life change, be it premeditated or otherwise, so I recently decided to revisit my situation, identify where my loose ends were and tie those up.
I didn't need to make a to-do list to figure out where to start: my "stuff."
The great comedian George Carlin, a writing idol of mine, once said "That's the whole meaning of life, isn't it: trying to find a place for your stuff." It's very true. Stuff - or "belongings" as some people call them - is a big part of life.
But I also believe that stuff is baggage.
Maybe it's my aforementioned fantasy talking, but if I have something that I do not use or that does not contribute to my life in any way, I see it as fat that can be trimmed from my life.
Everyone has stuff, and some have tons of it. And keeping a lot of it is unnecessary and without strong reasoning. We just keep it. Someone else could better use it, but we hold onto it.
But why? There isn't always a clear reason. We just keep it, this ... stuff.
And now we have entire subcultures obsessed with it, and those subcultures have their own TV shows: "Antiques Roadshow," "Hoarders," "Storage Wars," "Auction House," "Oddities," "What's the Sell," "Pawn Stars" etc. etc. etc.
The inability to detach from one's things is turning into a marketable plight.
Sure, it's not all junk, but it's also not all valuable treasures either. More importantly though, what are YOU doing with it?
If you have it, you're not using it and you probably won't ever use it, why do you have it?
A lot of the time, we simply don't have an answer to why we have things. We often don't want to deal with the debate of whether to keep it or ditch it, and we simply forget about it, moving on with our consumer lifestyle. Strangely, it appears it has become easier to buy stuff than it is to get rid of it.
As we enter this holiday season, we should keep in mind that disorganized anchor in the attic or basement. The task of going through it might seem like a daunting one, but it's not. And the simple act of organizing it is therapeutic. And once you organize, you should be able identify things you can rid yourself of.
But what can you do with it?
People often think of a yard sale, because they figure "I'm not using it, but I could turn it into money and I can always use money."
But why sell something to someone who might not need it, when you can give it to someone who most certainly will?
It's all about priority - "what do I actually need to keep" - as well as the priority of self, weighed against others: "what is this item's importance to me? Is it more than what it might be for someone else, someone in need?"
Certainly, my writings from elementary school, while they are not profound, do mean a lot to me (and mean absolutely nothing to anyone else).
However, clothes I can't fit in to anymore don't have much importance to me. Clothes in my closet that I routinely pass over for other garments don't either. Games I don't have an interest in anymore don't, and neither do books I've read but will never read again.
So away they go to St. Vinnie's here in Monroe, as well as Goodwill: the most recent piece of fat trimmed from my lifestyle. It might seem like a drastic act, but it's not.
I don't have any problem getting rid of something now, because it serves me no purpose now. I don't worry about a possible day, down the road, when I wish I had that thing back, because that day hasn't come yet, and I simply tell myself "I'll cross that road when I come to it." And with that, there is no fear of regret, and that stuff is gone.
Do this enough times, and maybe that attic or basement will become more easily traversed. Or maybe, just maybe, it will become a livable room again and not just a palace of things that we have forgotten about but can't yet let go of.
- Jeremy Pink is Page Designer at The Times and can be reached at jpink@themonroetimes.com. Follow his writing online at facebook.com/jerpink.
OK, so none of it was organized. Anyway, I guess I should explain why I was up there.
You see, I'm kind of a romantic old soul, with a personality not focused on material possessions. That, combined with the fact that I am only 25 and not yet a parent, allows me one of my favorite fantasies: that, at any time, I be able to pick up my things and head on down whatever dusty trail my life diverts onto.
You never know when you might have a major life change, be it premeditated or otherwise, so I recently decided to revisit my situation, identify where my loose ends were and tie those up.
I didn't need to make a to-do list to figure out where to start: my "stuff."
The great comedian George Carlin, a writing idol of mine, once said "That's the whole meaning of life, isn't it: trying to find a place for your stuff." It's very true. Stuff - or "belongings" as some people call them - is a big part of life.
But I also believe that stuff is baggage.
Maybe it's my aforementioned fantasy talking, but if I have something that I do not use or that does not contribute to my life in any way, I see it as fat that can be trimmed from my life.
Everyone has stuff, and some have tons of it. And keeping a lot of it is unnecessary and without strong reasoning. We just keep it. Someone else could better use it, but we hold onto it.
But why? There isn't always a clear reason. We just keep it, this ... stuff.
And now we have entire subcultures obsessed with it, and those subcultures have their own TV shows: "Antiques Roadshow," "Hoarders," "Storage Wars," "Auction House," "Oddities," "What's the Sell," "Pawn Stars" etc. etc. etc.
The inability to detach from one's things is turning into a marketable plight.
Sure, it's not all junk, but it's also not all valuable treasures either. More importantly though, what are YOU doing with it?
If you have it, you're not using it and you probably won't ever use it, why do you have it?
A lot of the time, we simply don't have an answer to why we have things. We often don't want to deal with the debate of whether to keep it or ditch it, and we simply forget about it, moving on with our consumer lifestyle. Strangely, it appears it has become easier to buy stuff than it is to get rid of it.
As we enter this holiday season, we should keep in mind that disorganized anchor in the attic or basement. The task of going through it might seem like a daunting one, but it's not. And the simple act of organizing it is therapeutic. And once you organize, you should be able identify things you can rid yourself of.
But what can you do with it?
People often think of a yard sale, because they figure "I'm not using it, but I could turn it into money and I can always use money."
But why sell something to someone who might not need it, when you can give it to someone who most certainly will?
It's all about priority - "what do I actually need to keep" - as well as the priority of self, weighed against others: "what is this item's importance to me? Is it more than what it might be for someone else, someone in need?"
Certainly, my writings from elementary school, while they are not profound, do mean a lot to me (and mean absolutely nothing to anyone else).
However, clothes I can't fit in to anymore don't have much importance to me. Clothes in my closet that I routinely pass over for other garments don't either. Games I don't have an interest in anymore don't, and neither do books I've read but will never read again.
So away they go to St. Vinnie's here in Monroe, as well as Goodwill: the most recent piece of fat trimmed from my lifestyle. It might seem like a drastic act, but it's not.
I don't have any problem getting rid of something now, because it serves me no purpose now. I don't worry about a possible day, down the road, when I wish I had that thing back, because that day hasn't come yet, and I simply tell myself "I'll cross that road when I come to it." And with that, there is no fear of regret, and that stuff is gone.
Do this enough times, and maybe that attic or basement will become more easily traversed. Or maybe, just maybe, it will become a livable room again and not just a palace of things that we have forgotten about but can't yet let go of.
- Jeremy Pink is Page Designer at The Times and can be reached at jpink@themonroetimes.com. Follow his writing online at facebook.com/jerpink.
