Dispossessed

August 29, 2016

Greetings from the storage unit,

My Mom says that you shouldn’t throw a book away.  She is not a big fan of storing a bunch of books on a shelf either.  She believes you should read the book, and then give it to someone else to enjoy.  She’s like a rogue librarian.    

Lately I have been more conscious of things in people’s homes.  I wonder what the story is behind their presence there, and sometimes when I am feeling less charitable, I wonder about the senselessness of the accumulation.  I think things like: “It seems sad that people collect all kinds of junk that will just go to the curb when they die.  No one will care about that stuff as much as they did.”  I don’t typically say this out loud.

It’s easier to see that in other people’s homes.  Not so fun to see it in your own.  There is that time when your possessions stage a coup and you become possessed by them.  Sometimes I lack the courage to stage another revolution just to get rid of mismatched socks and old marathon posters.

I am not a fan of clutter, or accumulation of useless stuff.  It happens if we don’t pay attention, and sometimes if we do, in spite of us. We inherit some things and it seems disloyal to think about throwing them away; now we are the curators of the family history, even if it’s an ugly paperweight.  Gifts come to us via good intentions but with bad fit, and seasoned with their own guilt.  Ghastly sweaters from loving aunts, gargoyle bookends, and garish souvenirs from better travelled acquaintances.  I have one friend who somehow got the reputation for collecting Disney memorabilia, and now she’s too embarrassed to tell everyone that was someone else.

I like the idea of a simpler life, with fewer things to contend with, but for the most part I just can’t be bothered.  That’s the truth.  Once in a while the urge to purge gets a hold of me and then there is a trip to Goodwill or a few more broken things at the curb.  But one thing I notice is that with each possession comes its own share of inertia.

There are ways to overcome this.  I’ve read: ‘Hold something in your hand: if it does not give you joy, get rid of it.’  If you don’t use something for a year, out it goes.  There is a movement called A Month of Minimalism, where you get rid of one thing on day one, two things on day two, and so on.  Don’t do the math or you’ll never try it.

I have a few heroes who seem to have a handle on this.  People who think carefully about owning something, and regularly tithe their belongings to keep the dust from settling on stuff that has no meaning.  My friend Steve has said: “I want fewer keys.  I am not buying anything else with a motor.”  Inspiration comes from interesting places.

Last night an old friend of mine told me he sold his bicycle.  My first reaction was surprise.  First that he had kept this particular bike for more than forty years, and second that somehow the day came that four decades was enough time to own it.

To understand the beauty of this you have to know the context.  This yellow Schwinn was Brian’s first taste of freedom.  It took him, alongside a few of his crazy friends, down two lane roads to the first real distance into his life of independence.  It was an important possession, and I can completely identify why he kept it all these years.

The other interesting part is that during many of the years he owned it he loaned to other people who made good use of it, for years at a time, before returning it, where it waited for the next rider.  Brian maintained it, as is his nature, because he respected the bike, and out of the loyalty he had for its place in his life. 

And it became apparent that the next rider was not coming of his own volition, so Brian decided that it was time to push the issue.  He put an ad in Craigslist and sold the bike immediately.  For about the money he paid for it forty plus years ago.

Brian was not entirely sure of his choice.  He said whenever he tells someone he sold his bike they say ‘You’re kidding!’ and he has second thoughts.  He was motivated to get rid of things that he was not using, that were not adding value to his life, and he made a good decision I think.  Because now someone else is enjoying it.  He’s like a rogue librarian.  For bikes.

I have to admit it would be hard for me to sell the bike sitting in my basement right now, collecting its fourth decade of dust.  There are sentimental reasons to keep it, but maybe those don’t hold up as much as the reasons to find another rider.

In fact, regardless of how things come into our lives, we are only temporary stewards of them.  At some point we either choose to store them or share them.  There are reasons for either choice, but I am going to be more thoughtful about what is best for my stuff and me.

Hope this finds you simplifying,

David

Copyright © 2016 David Smith