I am my stuff?
I have previously written on attachment to other people, places or things. Spiritually the most damaging attachments are my demands that other people be responsible for my happiness or well being. Yet, my attachment to stuff is also spiritually burdensome.
Currently, I am in the midst of sorting and packing for my upcoming move to Tulsa. One might think that since I have moved many times in this life journey I would be adept at living as a minimalist. I like to think of myself as a non-shopper and a person who can easily enjoy and then let go of objects. Yet, it seems that I develop attachments to artwork in the form of paintings, sculptures, pottery, and glassware. Then there are the photos I receive of friends, their children and grandchildren. I also love having a variety of baking and cooking equipment, good china, elegant crystal, books I may want to reread or follow through on my intention to read, clothes for every possible occasion, a variety of shoes, several sets of sheets and many towels. There is also the supply of greeting cards, the office equipment, old financial records Uncle Sam demands I keep, and even the variety of cleaning equipment. The list goes on and on and on and …
I read of a woman who had divested herself of all her possessions except for one hundred items. The count of 100 items included dishes, silverware, clothes and toiletries. I have often attempted to imagine what 100 items I would keep. I cannot even reduce the number of my possessions to 1000.
I am moving to a one-bedroom condo partly because I know that at 80 I need to be mindful of the fact that at some time in the not too distant future someone is going to have to clean out and get rid of all my stuff. Perhaps it will be sold at an estate sale or perhaps it will line the shelves and fill the racks of a thrift store. Some may be purchased by someone who attracted to its beauty or it utilitarianism. No one will have the same emotional attachment I now have.
Attachments are burdensome and expensive. I am paying to move by the pound. Once it arrives I have to find a place for it or decide to let go it if a place for it cannot be found. None of it will accompany me past this life journey. I will, at some point, be forced to let go of each item just as I will be forced to let go of each friend or family member either because I die or they die.
Perhaps, just perhaps, having put these truths down on paper, I can put more items in the stack to give to someone I know or to the local thrift store. Perhaps I can lighten my physical as well as my emotional burden. Attachments are, after all, burdensome. Enjoying an object for a moment can be great fun. Attachments force one to care for and hang on. They become a part of one’s identify. If not careful, one’s identity goes to the thrift store leaving only emptiness and, thus, non-existence.
Today I will strive to be honest with myself and to not identify my essence with these objects. Perhaps I might even smile.
Written October 10, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
I have previously written on attachment to other people, places or things. Spiritually the most damaging attachments are my demands that other people be responsible for my happiness or well being. Yet, my attachment to stuff is also spiritually burdensome.
Currently, I am in the midst of sorting and packing for my upcoming move to Tulsa. One might think that since I have moved many times in this life journey I would be adept at living as a minimalist. I like to think of myself as a non-shopper and a person who can easily enjoy and then let go of objects. Yet, it seems that I develop attachments to artwork in the form of paintings, sculptures, pottery, and glassware. Then there are the photos I receive of friends, their children and grandchildren. I also love having a variety of baking and cooking equipment, good china, elegant crystal, books I may want to reread or follow through on my intention to read, clothes for every possible occasion, a variety of shoes, several sets of sheets and many towels. There is also the supply of greeting cards, the office equipment, old financial records Uncle Sam demands I keep, and even the variety of cleaning equipment. The list goes on and on and on and …
I read of a woman who had divested herself of all her possessions except for one hundred items. The count of 100 items included dishes, silverware, clothes and toiletries. I have often attempted to imagine what 100 items I would keep. I cannot even reduce the number of my possessions to 1000.
I am moving to a one-bedroom condo partly because I know that at 80 I need to be mindful of the fact that at some time in the not too distant future someone is going to have to clean out and get rid of all my stuff. Perhaps it will be sold at an estate sale or perhaps it will line the shelves and fill the racks of a thrift store. Some may be purchased by someone who attracted to its beauty or it utilitarianism. No one will have the same emotional attachment I now have.
Attachments are burdensome and expensive. I am paying to move by the pound. Once it arrives I have to find a place for it or decide to let go it if a place for it cannot be found. None of it will accompany me past this life journey. I will, at some point, be forced to let go of each item just as I will be forced to let go of each friend or family member either because I die or they die.
Perhaps, just perhaps, having put these truths down on paper, I can put more items in the stack to give to someone I know or to the local thrift store. Perhaps I can lighten my physical as well as my emotional burden. Attachments are, after all, burdensome. Enjoying an object for a moment can be great fun. Attachments force one to care for and hang on. They become a part of one’s identify. If not careful, one’s identity goes to the thrift store leaving only emptiness and, thus, non-existence.
Today I will strive to be honest with myself and to not identify my essence with these objects. Perhaps I might even smile.
Written October 10, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
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