As I was dancing my ass off recently, it occurred to me to tell Sweet Hubby that if I should happen to drop dead while dancing, he is to remember that I died completely happy, fully alive, and full of joy.
But when I think about our deaths, mine and SH's, I realized with a cold shudder that someone is going to have to clean up after us. Someone, probably a niece or nephew, is going to have a come into our home and make a decision about every single tchotchke, scrap of paper, utensil, t-shirt, earring, photo, etc. To whomever she or he or they end up being, first of all, my deepest apologies, and second of all, my deepest thanks. Do what you like with all of it. Keep it, share it, sell it, donate it, throw it away.
I've hoped that someone might enjoy our vast DVD collection, but now I realize the younger generations stream their movies. Same for our CD collection. Same for our book library. Our stuff is the stuff of an older generation, a different time, already artifacts. It's hard to imagine anyone will want any of it. It's too bad just to throw it away, but if someone keeps it who doesn't want it, then it is clutter and a burden.
Sigh. I wish we had less stuff.
Is it all just going to end up on a trash heap? Or worse, in the ocean? Even if we start lightening our load of possessions, as we do in very small increments, it still goes somewhere on the planet. SH does his best to find someone who wants what we're giving away, and that's reassuring. But most of it is going to outlive us even after it has outlived its usefulness. I am painfully aware of how all this stuff burdens not just us and those who come after us, but the planet as well. It already exists, so me getting rid of it just moves it someplace else.
Why do we have all this stuff? My closet is full of clothes I don't wear. Every article is nice and fits and is perfectly fine, but I tend to wear the same clothes over and over, so too many garments hang there unused. I keep photos I don't look at and books I haven't read (yet, is what I tell myself) and scraps of paper with ideas for writing and mementos of occasions I barely remember. And that's just my stuff. SH's stuff triples the load. I feel terrible for whomever has to deal with it in the end, and even worse for this poor planet who will have to deal with it into eternity or until full decomposition, whichever comes first.
I think we humans hold onto the artifacts of our lives, maybe partly because we want to remember our pasts, but mostly because we don't want to become nothing, don't want to face how ephemeral we truly are. Our stuff says "I was here, I was this kind of person, I did this, I owned that." This is a first world problem; not only a problem plaguing members of the first world, but a problem with which we first worlders plague the rest of the world.
The accumulation of "stuff" is a problem for me, too. And lately, now that I'm knocking at the threshold of 80 yrs, I too am looking at this stuff and knowing intellectually it could all go, but struggling with releasing my grip. When Judy and I took our Coos Bay apartment, we vowed to keep it minimal. We'd only furnish with stuff we could do without so if one of us was left or if we decided to terminate our stays here on the coast, we could send it all to GoodWill or somewhere. It's our 4th summer in this apartment, and we've added things like too many cottage cheese containers, a few flat pasta bowls, a cookie scoop. We started out with too many clothes and books, and that hasn't changed, even though we've given some of both away. We're readying to return home in a few weeks and have promised ourselves and each other we'll get rid of some of this stuff before we go.
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