A few weeks back I went twice to the Strand with friends. The first time, I picked up about five titles that I really loved and wanted to read and genuinely thought would help me out. However, after the Great Book Purge of 2008, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fathom bringing some more stuff into my life after I’d spent so much time and effort culling out things to eject from my life—most of them items that I had purchased with the intention of them being helpful and treasured, but most of which ended up being mere clutter. Seeing firsthand how this thought process worked and the drastic change in utility that occurred between the purchase of thse books and their sale made me loath to allow anything but the most utilitarian of objects into my life again.

I had to physically talk myself into even thinking of of getting them. My shopping companions were astounded at my composure, I and described me as a “brave minimalist”. And that’s where the confusion started.

I have a good friend from high school who used to be a complete minimalist. He owned only what he needed. It was during college, and he did it because his life was constantly in flux—he was always moving into a new apartment every few months, sometimes across state or continental lines. was convenient for moving, but in general it was problematic: while he met his Maslow-defined basic needs, he needed a lot more to actually function as a working member of society. So, he depended on his roommates and freecycling for furniture and kitchenware.

For me, so many of my material attachments used to be sentimental; I kept them because they represented a person, place, thing, or time period that I enjoyed and wanted to always remember favorably. After my mum passed away in 2001, I hoarded everything that she had ever owned because I felt so bad about getting rid of it. It was awhile before I realized that keeping things that belonged to her wasn’t going to bring her back. With this realization, I became aware that my memories existed independent of the material mementos of them, and hence I didn’t have to keep all of the mementos to retain the memories.

With that, I began furiously decluttering. I discovered Unclutterer about a year and a half ago, and I started ruthlessly evaluating the objects that I allowed to take up space and time in my life. And while I’ll never reach the stoic minimalist aesthetic that my high school friend achieved, I can confidently say that everything in my space is either extremely useful, extremely sentimental, or extremely beautiful.

I’ve prepared a couple more posts about the role that stuff plays in our lives that I’ll post over the next few days. I’m curious to know, though, what your most valued possessions are. Where do you fall on the material/minimal continuum? How do you evaluate what you allow to come (or stay) in your life?

No related posts.