Cherishing Your Stuff
Not a Wasted Word and I share a deep love of talking about decluttering. I would say we share a deep love of decluttering, but the reality is that I schedule my declutters far more often than I do them.
A few weeks ago, she sent me a New York Times article celebrating clutter. Not declutter. Celebrating clutter. The article points out how useless it is to stress about the accumulation of stuff because accumulating things (intangible and tangible) is part of the human experience. Why should we get rid of the things that we once wanted or that remind us of happy times or which simply bring a spot of colour into the corner of the room? Why should we get rid of books we’ve read or clothes we rarely wear?
The part that really resonated with me was this:
The stuff we accumulate works the same way our body weight does. Each of us has a set point to which we invariably return. Each of us has been allotted a certain tolerance, if not a need, for stuff; each of us is gaited to carry a certain amount of weight in possessions.
Some of us, rare breeds, tend toward the minimalist; some tip into a disorder of hoarding. Most of us live in the middle range. How marvelous it is to simply accept that, and celebrate it.
If this is true, it explains a lot.
I love minimalism, but I don’t think I really have a minimalist “body.” Just as I’m more curvaceous in nature, my possessions bulge in places like my pear-shaped body: piles of books for my wide hips and stacks of paper for my big chest. And a lack of knickknacks for my thin arms and no decorative touches for my thin legs.
I do have to declutter regardless of what this author says, but I am going to allow myself to keep whatever my heart wants. After all, it’s mine. And I love my stuff, too.