People and Their Stuff
I freely admit to having issues with dealing with stuff. I don't shop much, and I don't beg, borrow[permanently], or steal, so I'm not sure where all my stuff comes from. I do know that what I have is not very easy to part with if--
1. It was given to me by someone I love.
2. It was a blessing when I got it.
3. It's beautiful or it makes me smile for some other reason.
4. It's still in reasonably good shape.
5. I've seen it sell for good money somewhere. (Like the retro swivel chair that Shane resolutely carried off to the dumpster today. It was in perfect condition, but he was sure no one would ever want it. Not my taste, or his, but someone's, surely. Big gulp.)
6. I can visualize it being re-purposed.
7. It reminds me of happy events.
8. It is functional, and helps me accomplish something I need to do.
9. It symbolizes something I'm passionate about.
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Hiromi can, with no remorse, get rid of anything--
1. With a purpose he doesn't recognize. (Me: Do you know what this is for? Hiromi: No. Pitch it.)
2. That needs cleaning.
3. That is relatively inexpensive. ("I can get another one.")
4. That doesn't work perfectly. (The small coffee maker that requires forcing the switch hard to the left, or it won't turn on.)
5. That is ugly.
6. That is not being used for its original purpose. (The whipped cream tubs I use for seed starting.)
7. That takes up too much room. (With a perfectly straight face, he said the other day that he thought we should just get rid of everything that was still left in the farmhouse, because we already had enough stuff here. None of the closets or storage places had yet been emptied out.)
8. That looks like too much work to deal with.
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I've concluded that some people in the world will never venture into any area of endeavor that requires resources or equipment if their current circumstances (time, space, or finances) can not easily accommodate such things. Others are driven to explore a wide variety of endeavors, even if limitations are significant. They are carried along by a sense of optimism and adventure that makes them willing to adjust their expectations as needed, but they go forward somehow, making do as best they can. When they finally are able to acquire what they knew they needed in the beginning, they are deeply grateful. Without realizing it, they might even continue to collect such things after the supply is adequate.
It's the second kind of people, of course, who end up with a lot of stuff. It's not necessarily classy stuff, but good stuff because it helped accomplish good things, marking answered prayers and triumphs of innovation along the way. Here's where Hiromi and I find common ground, although for him and me the collection of stuff looks very different.
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Quote for the Day:
Shane: When William and Elizabeth moved [I was picturing our long-ago neighbors, until I realized I was on the wrong track.], their boys made a big bonfire and disposed of a lot of stuff they thought shouldn't stay around. William was mad for about three weeks, but after that, he really didn't miss much of that stuff. I think there's a lesson in that. Short term pain is sometimes necessary. . .
Poor William. He has my deep sympathy.
1. It was given to me by someone I love.
2. It was a blessing when I got it.
3. It's beautiful or it makes me smile for some other reason.
4. It's still in reasonably good shape.
5. I've seen it sell for good money somewhere. (Like the retro swivel chair that Shane resolutely carried off to the dumpster today. It was in perfect condition, but he was sure no one would ever want it. Not my taste, or his, but someone's, surely. Big gulp.)
6. I can visualize it being re-purposed.
7. It reminds me of happy events.
8. It is functional, and helps me accomplish something I need to do.
9. It symbolizes something I'm passionate about.
******************************
Hiromi can, with no remorse, get rid of anything--
1. With a purpose he doesn't recognize. (Me: Do you know what this is for? Hiromi: No. Pitch it.)
2. That needs cleaning.
3. That is relatively inexpensive. ("I can get another one.")
4. That doesn't work perfectly. (The small coffee maker that requires forcing the switch hard to the left, or it won't turn on.)
5. That is ugly.
6. That is not being used for its original purpose. (The whipped cream tubs I use for seed starting.)
7. That takes up too much room. (With a perfectly straight face, he said the other day that he thought we should just get rid of everything that was still left in the farmhouse, because we already had enough stuff here. None of the closets or storage places had yet been emptied out.)
8. That looks like too much work to deal with.
******************************
I've concluded that some people in the world will never venture into any area of endeavor that requires resources or equipment if their current circumstances (time, space, or finances) can not easily accommodate such things. Others are driven to explore a wide variety of endeavors, even if limitations are significant. They are carried along by a sense of optimism and adventure that makes them willing to adjust their expectations as needed, but they go forward somehow, making do as best they can. When they finally are able to acquire what they knew they needed in the beginning, they are deeply grateful. Without realizing it, they might even continue to collect such things after the supply is adequate.
It's the second kind of people, of course, who end up with a lot of stuff. It's not necessarily classy stuff, but good stuff because it helped accomplish good things, marking answered prayers and triumphs of innovation along the way. Here's where Hiromi and I find common ground, although for him and me the collection of stuff looks very different.
*****************************
Quote for the Day:
Shane: When William and Elizabeth moved [I was picturing our long-ago neighbors, until I realized I was on the wrong track.], their boys made a big bonfire and disposed of a lot of stuff they thought shouldn't stay around. William was mad for about three weeks, but after that, he really didn't miss much of that stuff. I think there's a lesson in that. Short term pain is sometimes necessary. . .
Poor William. He has my deep sympathy.
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