I pruned my closet last week. My middle name is “Declutter.” I love getting rid of stuff.
My goal is to be a monk—without the weird parts like obedience, poverty, celibacy, and tonsures. My aim is simple: simplicity—the fewest things possible without suffering discomfort or inconvenience, and without precipitating a divorce.
(My wife, Paula, likes our stuff. She’s no nun.)
I’m a minimalist, not a materialist, except when it comes to books. I love books. I own hundreds. But let’s not get hung up there. That’s honorable materialism.
Every year I downsize. And every year gremlins upsize while I’m sleeping. My middle name should be “Sisyphus.”
Stuff metastasizes into every room, cupboard, and drawer. The only cure is death. At last, we leave it all behind.
But don’t be too sure.
Years ago some friends moved to town with a truck and two cars—stuff on the roofs, stuff in the back seats, stuff in the trunks—and, of course, stuff in a U-Haul trailer.
(They once were hippies living out of backpacks.)
The first two hours moving stuff in were jolly fun. WHEE. The next two hours were laborious. UGH. The last two hours were HELL.
That’s when I formulated a counterintuitive view of the afterlife:
YOU TAKE IT ALL WITH YOU.
If you go to heaven, you’re done moving. If you go to hell, you move every year. For eternity.
(Yes, there are U-Hauls in hell.)
DOWNSIZE NOW! DOWNSIZE FOREVER!
I recommend backpacks. You know, just in case.
Among my pile of clothes bound for Goodwill was a tailor-made suit I purchased for my daughter’s wedding in 2010. By then I had officiated 200 or so weddings. This one was different. I walked my beautiful daughter down the aisle in my handsome three-piece suit.
After that, I wore that suit for three weddings and a funeral, hung it up, and reverted to my Steve Jobs look. No more suit and tie.
That suit hung untouched for 14 years. I thought it could be my burial suit and mentioned that to Paula.
You won’t need it, she said flatly. You’ll be cremated.
I’m all for cremation. But I was just a wee bit startled that I’d not been included in that particular decision.
I’m totally cool with it. I imagine my elegant urn on an empty bookshelf.
Total simplicity.
At last.
_______________________
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Aw yes! Clutter. It’s evidently part of the human condition. Sentimentality. You and I share an attachment to books. Old friends they are. Including J.D. Vance’s, “Hillbilly Elegy”. I keep it as evidence against him. Of course, he wasn’t a hillbilly. That was obvious in the book. But enough about “Mr. Supreme Genuflection”. Claire was always on me about buying more books. “Renew your library card,” she would say in her dry, direct manner. However, don’t touch any of her stuff. That was an unspoken rule. Now all of that is my responsibility too. Another part of the human condition is to leave it for somebody else to deal with. Is it right? Is it fair to the ones we love? Of course not. I think sometimes that’s why folks decide to become renunciate. It’s the only real way to break the chain of acquisition. We human’s resemble magnets; we attract stuff. As Kerouac once articulated, “It’s memory, babe!
Right there with you. As a close relative said, “Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you how to get along without it.”
Have you always been a minimalist? Decluttering each year? The older I get the more I find all the stuff incredibly bothersome. I inherited all my mother’s stuff because she was living with us for a while. I have all my stuff. And my husband has all his stuff. He is not a minimalist. This leads to periodic heated discussions about value. Value to him value to someone else. Ex. we had a garage sale some years ago and he packed up those “valuable” items and took them and found that others did not want to honor the value he placed on them. Guess what ! Most of the items came back and were left packed up in a bin where they sit today. Our son begs us not to leave all this stuff for him to get rid of. I assure him , I am trying.
I am in the same situation. Sometimes I can sneak stuff out and then conveniently forget where I last saw it. Daughter has said, “please do not leave all this stuff for me!”
Loved the backpack statement. Had to laugh, I have two backpacks in my closet. One I used on two Camino walks and a new one that I bought when I decided I needed to downsize what I carry when I walk. Even a pilgrim has to fight the same desire to bring it all with you. Isn’t there a pill for that?
Decluttering is a great motivator for good health, according to the latest scientific research. A “spring cleaning” is good for our mind and body—a kind of cleansing and liberation for the spirit. It also says that less is somehow more.
If we are honest, we realize that ownership is an illusion. We only rent space for a while. Ultimately, we “own” nothing—not our books, nor even our bodies, as is manifested by an “elegant urn on an empty bookshelf.” Thoreau’s words ring true: “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
Finally, Buddha says, “Joy comes not through possession or ownership but through a wise and loving heart.” It is not what we have (or don’t have) that counts, but how we strive to walk a path of love.
“If you go to heaven, you’re done moving. If you go to hell, you move every year. For eternity.”
Hemingway couldn’t say it better.
Thanks for sharing Judy Collins singing Simple Gifts. A simply beautiful Shaker hymn. Now my crib is filled with Sunday morning folk singing. Thank you. I don’t have much stuff. I’ve moved all over too often to drag too much stuff with me. But I love simplicity. I’m not much for materialism and consumerism. It’s easier to “Be here now” if there’s not a bunch of stuff in the way. I’m with you.
I like it!
Oh – Randy – smiles and reflection. I have been attempting to downsize since before we moved to WV. Much to my chagrin, “stuff” accumulated again. And then reality check and out the door with some things no longer suited to our current life. Thank you for what you share … we need less for JOY!
It’s always fun to listen to people speculating about who should inherit which tranches of their stuff. Young people don’t want our china, silverware, furniture, and definitely not our books and clothes and miscellaneous tchotchkes with sentimental value. I too have too many books, even after giving most of them away (the library probably just sells them to be pulped, but that’s not my lookout). 90% of my clothing was given to me by someone who imagines that I will look better wearing it, and I have to send perfectly good shirts and such to Goodwill to make room in the drawers.
We live in a fairly densely populated (inner suburb) area, so if I leave pretty much anything on the curb, it’s gone in 24 hours. Old Ikea desks and bookshelves, games, tools… I wonder if all the people taking it really do use the stuff or some are hoarding it. Not my problem.
I think I’m slated for cremation, and it’s none of my business what happens to the ashes. The landfill would be fine. Who needs a dirty urn? It seems a nasty trick to present someone in the next generation with a choice of either throwing Dad in the trash, sticking him in a closet, or displaying him in the living room.
Avoid the void. If it is empty, it must be filled. You move everything out of a room to lay some vinyl flooring. You sort and part with stuff. It’s a new start. It feels good. A small victory on the 3rd rock from the Sun. First you organize what you keep. At stages two, three, and four, you fill the void. Piles three and four will be the first to go in the next purge.
I care little as to what folks keep and toss. Although I have some neat stuff from Danny Frye and the Yellow Brick Bank. If anyone recalls the “Keep on Dancing” poster. Decluttering is a worthy goal. I am more curious about what generations hold onto and pass along.
Ours was a cedar chest family. A small container in the great scheme of available spaces. Yet, as I once noted, it was the “wooden archival vault of mementos and doilies, testifying that we were all young once, emerging from black and white into colorful hues.”
Thank you Randy! Just what I’m preparing to do. What a good reminder and pep talk!
Almost 20 years ago, George Carlin gave good insights on stuff. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvgN5gCuLac
I definitely need to get rid of some ‘stuff.’
“Clutter is not just the stuff on your floor – it’s anything that stands between you and the life you want to be living.” Peter Walsh
Loved this piece! Resonating, & chipping away, bit by bit… have had numerous conversations over the past months with friends about letting “things” go; creating open, simple space (& making sure my loved ones aren’t stuck with the task when I go).
Your humor & wit put a positive spin on it, and the images are priceless!!
Thanks once again to you and all for sharing this American story!
I live in a home filled with art and artifacts. Virtually everything has a story. A piece of furntiure that my grandfather purchased when he was first on his own. The first new piece of furniture my parents acquired (a maple dresser) as a newly married couple in the midst of the Depression. Quilts from my wife’s families going back generations and those she has made. Objects acquired over the years for their beauty or for the sheer whimsy. Beautiful prints and paintings – supporting the work of artists we have met along the way. Pieces of pottery – some art and some just old storage containers. Crystal found in second hand shops. Rugs – handcrafted and fair traded – that provide me a Zen moment when I follow their amazing patterns with the vacuum cleaner. Declutter – you have no soul.
Ah, yes. And then there’s that side of stuff. Heirlooms to keep and treasure. I rename you: Randall, the wiser.