As I ran the tape gun over the final box of books that would moved to our new apartment, I took a breath, sat down and stared at the wall of containers in front of me.  Every single one of the them contained the books I had collected over the years.  It was easily a collective 400-pounds that I would have to move between states so I could unpack them into another bookshelf where, by all accounts, I would have to move them at least one more time before they found a permanent home.  I had enjoyed each one of them many time over and to be honest, many of them I would never read again, but parting with them was something I had always found hard to do.  A full bookshelf always made me very content, but this was going beyond that.  I’m sure many of you that enjoy reading out there can relate, and possibly even have a similar problem. 

Moving a 3-4 bedroom house into a 1-bedroom loft proved to be an exercise in “trimming the fat” for both me and my wife.  While I was having issues with my books, DVD collection and other knick-knacks, she was having a difficult time with the holiday decorations, frames and artwork we had gathered.  There was no getting around it: we needed to get rid of this stuff before we moved or we would have no space to ourselves.  The process turned out to be easier than we thought, even though it was most certainly something we weren’t used to.  In the end, it was quite liberating, actually. 

For myself, coming to the realization that we hadn’t used much of the stuff we were selling/giving away made the process a little easier.  We were without a doubt clinging onto these things for two main reasons:  

1. Someday, we would (re)use these things.
2. We couldn’t part with something because there was a memory attached with it.

There wasn’t much in the house that didn’t fit into these two categories, and what I found was that #1 applied more to me while #2 applied to my wife.  There was no issue with the cost of the items, what purpose they served or how often we would use them.  It simply boiled down to practical and sentimental decisions.

Now, we made the most of the items we had, selling a bunch of it on craigslist.org, giving it away to friends and relatives we knew would get use out of them, and donating the rest to good homes at non-profit businesses, libraries, etc.  As the methodical process of deciding what was to go and what was to stay, I felt a mental weight being lifted.  Forcing myself to analyze the usefulness, necessity and worth of each item was a very enlightening experience.  When all was said and done, I knew that the things we were parting with (all things we had used many times or not at all) would find a purpose in someone else’s life, however small.  On the same token, I could almost see the figure on the moving invoice going further and further down.  That, was most certainly something I wasn’t going to argue with! 

I don’t think that the act of simply giving things away is enough to ease the stress of ownership, however.  Some of the things that we had, despite the other’s persuasion to get rid of it, were going to make the move with us - no if’s, and’s or but’s.  Two ceramic painted garden gnomes (that we keep in a spare bedroom for some reason) that my wife’s grandmother made fell into that list.  While I’m not fond of them and they scare everyone who sleeps in that room like some lurking spectre, I can most certainly understand the emotional attachment to those items.  Who am I to throw those away, after all?  The same hold true for some of my Dungeons & Dragons paraphernalia (yes, I am a geek of the higher levels).  My friends and I use pretty much each and every last item when we play, and I found it incredibly hard to give away something that we all enjoy and have a good time with.  The point is, there were compromises, but the majority of the stuff went.

Going through all of this, it got me thinking: why do we get so attached to inanimate objects?  Obviously, as it has been stated, we associate some of them with a memory or person, specific events and moments in our life.  By getting rid of the item, we almost feel a sense of betrayal or loss of the past.  I would imagine that is the most common reason, or at least the most easily understood.

The practical side of our minds would find a need to keep hold of things for their eventual use.  You may not need it now, but what if you find a use for it in the future?  How much of a shame it would be if you threw something away that still had use left in it - almost like throwing leftover food away.  Sure, you could shove it in your mouth and force yourself to eat it, but would you be better off for it?  If you’re already full, are you really helping those that don’t have any food, or helping yourself by overeating?  If you can honestly answer ‘no’ to that question, why would material goods be any different?  That old stack of magazines hasn’t been read in years, but what if you need to reference something?  I think you get my point.  Give them to the library where everyone can access them, including yourself! 

I’d love to hear your stories or reasons for hanging on to or getting rid of items that you owned.  It’s a very interesting process by which the human mind actually places a value or some sort, whether it be monetary, emotional or practical on an item.  Even more captivating are the ways in which people handle those values and apply them to their daily lives.

Do you believe it is better to live a ”trimmed down” life, or do you prefer to have potential necessities on standby?   

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