‘What matters is not what we seem to be but what we know we are.’

D I V E   I N

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Stuff

 

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1.

“We attempt to reprise moments (of happiness) by acquiring new possessions,” so say The Minimalists. “Peace is buried beneath the hoard we’ve added to our lives.”

 

 

2.

The Minimalists came on the scene in 2010 via a website, their presence radically shifting the image of minimalism many people had hitherto held: sparse, sterile spaces and fussy, joyless people. 

 

The duo shared their personal experience with minimalism, which had less to do with getting rid of stuff and more to do with life beyond the stuff. They left corporate careers and material luxury in order to emotionally and physically declutter (the latter accomplished by packing everything in boxes and seeing what remained, untouched, 30 days later). After doing the work, they acquired a sense of freedom, realising that no amount of money or purchases would make them as happy as society had promised. Their solution was not deprivation but consideration: what brings value to my life?

 

 

3.

One of the most important tenets of Buddhism is non-attachment, based on the idea that suffering comes from expectation and attachment to our desires and beliefs. Often, we refuse to accept things as they really are and want them to be different to such an extent that when reality presents itself and doesn’t match our expectations and desires, we then attach ourselves to other expectations or desires. This cycle often involves, among other things, the consumption of material goods.

 

Monastery-dwelling monks live with few possessions in order to practise detachment and in turn, appreciate life’s subtleties. Many believe that the goal isn’t to own nothing, but rather that nothing owns you.

 

 

4.

Of course, stuff is not inherently bad. Why we acquire stuff, however, can have negative undertones. In 2016 documentary Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things, our misuse of the word ‘materialistic’ is brought to the fore. The argument is that, for all of our excessive consumption, we’re not materialistic at all in the true sense of the word. That is, we don’t buy items for their materiality but for their believed symbolism (and even then, we don’t look after them the way a materialist would). A lipstick to gloss over the stresses of the day. An iPad so we can fit in with our friends. A dress to make us feel special. Even the most mundane of things, a plate or tumbler so our home more closely resembles that of our favourite Instagrammer.

 

 

5.

Henry David Thoreau’s 1854 work Walden chronicles the two years spent in a cabin he built on a patch of land in Massachusetts. Thoreau’s intention was to ‘live deliberately’, which meant doing odd jobs so he could afford basic amenities, marvelling at nature, and lolling around the lake outside his little wooden abode. Sidestepping the lively debates about Thoreau actually being just a few miles from home and getting his mother to do his laundry, Walden has a lot to offer in terms of understanding the nature of possessions, such as proffering the idea that the cost of something isn’t monetary but “the amount of life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.” What, beyond money, are we sacrificing when we bring a new item into our lives? A moment to check in with ourselves? Time spent with others? The joy in imagining or creating? The present moment and our reality? A chance, no matter how fleeting, to see that what we are and what we have is enough? Thoreau, an ardent minimalist, tossed aside three pieces of limestone he’d placed on his desk after discovering that they required daily dusting; he wasn’t willing to do this when the ‘furniture of his mind’ remained undusted. At first this seems ridiculous, but then something starts to stir within. How often do we truly nurture ourselves? Or do we hope our stuff will do it for us?

 

 

6.

The journeys both in and out of our current predicament are explained in Stuffocation, an exploration of ‘living more with less’ by trend forecaster James Wallman. It tackles everything from the GDP (‘it helps us keep up with the Joneses but does nothing for our wellbeing’) to minimalism (‘minimalism has many merits…but it’s not extreme enough’). Wallman repeatedly tells us a truth we’re all familiar with yet go to great efforts to forget: trying to find meaning, status, or happiness in stuff just doesn’t work.  He concludes that the key to contentment is experientialism. Less having, more doing. It seems that others have caught onto this, evident in the array of access-only platforms available to us (e.g., Netflix, Spotify) and the popularity of hands-on workshops, such as making kombucha or mastering urban gardening.

 

While focusing on experiences can sometimes be a lateral move (many social media users have replaced seeking the ‘right’ items for the ‘right’ experiences that, by posting about online, provide status), the link between experientialism and happiness makes sense. After all, we likely remember more things we did than things we bought, two, five, ten years ago.

 

7.

It’s not just about the stuff we buy. It’s about the stuff we keep, too — photos, ticket stubs, things we never look at but continue to stow away. In both my family home and my current home, I have storage boxes stacked with journals. As someone who simultaneously hates clutter and loves mementos (and, all the while, is attempting to emotionally detach from earthly goods), I’m reaching a pivotal moment. I must decide the fate of these journals (and the ones that will follow).

 

But the real question isn’t: what to do with twenty-odd years’ worth of notebooks? It’s: what are they for? I rarely read them and I don't particularly want anyone else to. The value (a kind of therapy) was reaped at the time of writing and does not linger on. Yet part of me still feels caught between the past, present, and future, reluctant to detach from these physical artefacts of my life so far. But I know they’re just mementos; they don’t change what’s inside. An easy enough truth to acknowledge but seemingly much harder to act upon.

 

 

8.

Some stuff we need. Some stuff brings us value or joy. For everything else, perhaps we ought to take a closer look. Are these items, to borrow an idea from The Minimalists, simply pacifying us? Keeping us from our true selves or the present moment? One thing’s for sure: only by looking at the stuff on the inside will we be able to truly see the stuff on the outside.