| Our Addiction to Stuff, Part 1 |
| Saturday, 25 July 2009 | Amy Kaplan | Blog Entry |
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I flew around the house in an angry and sad daze, grabbing things and putting them into piles of wanted and unwanted. Anything that gave me the slightest sense of anger and sadness had to go, ASAP. This is when Freecycle came into my life along with deep philosophical thoughts about death, the Bible, Greek tragedies, karma and recycling. The more stuff I got rid of or stored in one of the two giant garages, the more philosophical I got. I am not much of a collector. I like to have just a few things—with the exception of kitchenware and tools. I have though, collected dolls for most of my life. I had, in summer 2006, a large collection. I gave most of it away to people from Freecycle. I gave my sewing machine away, my sewing supplies, arts and crafts supplies, gardening tools, seeds and chemicals, furniture, lamps, kitchen stuff and much more. Truckloads of stuff actually. I kept thinking, “Pay it forward.” I kept looking for the feeling of release from the burden of stuff laden with emotion and history. I got that, but not until I was out of that too-big house in the suburbs and thousands of miles away—which didn’t happen for almost two more years. Still, that summer, I was able to give pleasure to the people to whom I gave things. My memories of that time are vague. I was under a lot of emotional stress. I do remember a lady who came by to get my dolls. She was so grateful to be able to take these dolls from me so she could give them to her granddaughters, who she was raising due to some unspecified family tragedy. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I just nodded and gratefully accepted her effusive thanks for helping her to make her granddaughters a little happier. I was grateful to have the dolls taken off my hands. Pay it forward. My relationship with stuff is complicated. I believe all of us have such a complicated relationship. We live in a global economy that preys on our desire for things. An economy that fosters our addiction to getting just the right thing. An economy that is eating up our world and making us sick because of this prey-and-addiction cycle. All my dog cares about is being near me, getting fed and going for a long walk—with me—every day. There’s more truth for me in his desires then in my own acquisition of stuff of any kind. Now, I am back in a house and wallowing in these complications once again. Rather, I have been all year—just not as directly. Stuff and where I house my body seem to be the central questions of my life now. How about you?
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Written by Ann Lee , July 26, 2009
This recession has put the brakes on many people's fantasy of their ideal future. It took hitting a brick wall, but I too have decided that I no longer want to scale those walls that were a challenge to me in my youth. In a light bulb moment, I not only don't need to scale those walls, I no longer want to. I believe that letting go is going to become the new green movement. As America greys, I am seeing more downsizing, more reflection, more commonsense. An article I recently read talked about a company in Texas that makes small houses. And it is successful, as is Lowe's Katrina cottage blueprint offerings. People that planned McMansions for their retirement are now letting go, seeking out homes that would have fit in the great room of their once sought after fantasy. And they are happy and fulfilled. Well, on to another closet.
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I’ve been moving for the last year. No, for the last three and a quarter years. At the end of March 2006, I filed for divorce after 24 years of marriage and two then-teenage sons. I lived for more than half my marriage in a too-large house in the suburbs. A house I never wanted. A house that became a prison. A house that was a stage for too many ugly scenes. That summer of 2006, I began to rid myself of things. 
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