The past few weekends we’ve been getting rid of stuff. The kind of stuff we don’t need or even really want, the kind of things that make us ask why did we keep this? and then say I can’t remember. Old clothes we haven’t worn in years, books we bought and never read or only read once with no intention of rereading. We’ve been taking it one room per weekend and going through, bagging and boxing things up for Goodwill and Half Price Books. It feels good.
A colleague of mine recently said he thought it was a sin to keep things you don’t want or need. I don’t have his Catholic conception of sin, but I do find myself in agreement. We Americans collect so much, so much we don’t need, so much we don’t even want, most of which will just be tossed by our descendents. I’m not arguing for stripping down to the barest essentials, but it’s been good to go through the house, looking at everything and asking questions like ‘Why do we own this?’ ‘Do we want this?’ ‘Who gave this to us?’
Sometimes, it seems the artifacts of our lives pose as many questions as we might have hoped they’d answer beyond whatever perceived need prompted their purchase.
Books are like that and used to be hard for me to get rid of, but now even those are easier to part with. I tend to keep cookbooks, guidebooks and assorted references. Poetry books stay since I’ll pick those up and reread through them randomly. Novels I’ve read and don’t intend to read again are the first to go, which is odd since I’ve written a few novels and am trying to get one published, but as artifacts, those are the books I generally feel the least connection with, though I can’t imagine parting with my Lord of the Rings, Philip K. Dick, or Don Quixote. A few others. Enough to have a room full of books when random heady inspiration is needed.
Sometimes we find that the things we have carry some sentimental value. They were given by a loved one, they remind us of special times and places, and they are totems that aid travel through memory.
For many things, though, it just seems others can or will use them better than we will and so we let those things go. In doing so, we become a little freer and the house feels lighter and, strangely, more comfortable.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
I agree so much, I t ry not to hard stuff but every so often I find myself needing to have a clear out as stuff has accumulated. I’m good at getting rid of books once I’ve read them (if I know I won’t read them again) but I have a lot of books that I haven’t yet read.
I have lots of unread as well. I’ve lately been trying to institute a 15 year rule (yes, I have some unread books that have been lying around that long) since I probably won’t ever get to those if I haven’t yet 🙂