Living in a Material World

I have this couch that I really love.  I’m not one of those people who picks a color palette and then carefully arranges furniture and decorations to fit with a specific design trend.  But, this particular piece of furniture was purchased just for how it looks.  I’m pretty sure my mom thinks my couch is somewhat hideous, which means that it is exactly my style.  She prefers a more refined look whereas I’m all for anything retro, mid-century, or eclectic; and if it’s a shade of yellow or green all the better.  A few years back my husband and I were moving into a rented upper duplex that was built sometime in the 1920’s.  After packing up all of our possessions and traveling across state lines we were tired and a little frustrated by the fact that our puffy leather sofa and love seat physically couldn’t fit up the old, narrow stairwell to be placed in our new living room.  We didn’t want to spend a lot of money on new furniture, so we went to a local thrift store.  The place was huge and filled with all sorts of awesome things waiting to become someone’s new treasure.  We walked amongst the many cushioned seats in the large room of furniture and there it was.  It called to us in all of its 1960’s gold and olive striped glory.  It must have sat in some little old lady’s home covered in protective vinyl for how pristine it looked.  The fact that it was especially comfortable to sit on was just an added bonus. 

 

My husband and I have been talking a lot lately about shaping today for our future.  Not to create a rigid guideline for a specific outcome, but to start living in a way right now that allows us to continue to live the way we want long-term.  In other words, we agreed that we aren’t willing to trade a piece of our lives for the long road to get where we want to go at some unknown future time.  Instead, we’re going to fire up the FTL Drive (“faster than light” for those of you who aren’t in the geek club with us) and jump to where we want to go.  We asked ourselves the question: “What would you trade minutes of your life for?”  It was just what came out of regular conversation, but it spurred us to really think about all of our stuff.  This was somewhat profound.  How many minutes of your life are you trading to own your car?  Your house?  To pay the credit card interest for the newest upgrade in tech gadgets?  Do you have enough minutes to trade for money to pay for the things society tells us we need?  I wish I had a magic eraser for the pointless purchases of my past.  At some point in time we went the route of “average” and bought things we thought we needed but we really couldn’t afford and increased our debt.  Luckily, we as human beings have this amazing ability to constantly improve our personal value statements.  I can’t uncharge my credit cards, but I can decide what significance the stuff in my life holds.  When I really think about it I don’t care enough about any of the things in my life to trade the precious few minutes in my bank of life to pay for them.  As a result we’ve been working toward simplifying our lives.  It’s absolutely true that the more clutter you have in your home the more clutter you will have in your mind.  It seemed natural, then, to start removing items from our house immediately.  I occasionally go through periods where I wish I could throw out everything in the house because I get frustrated by the inevitable mess made with all of those things.  I thought for sure that purging would be easy for me.  I think I was a little bit wrong.  When it came time to go through all of the toys in the playroom I found myself looking at a bunch of my own childhood stuff.  My mom saved a lot of the stuffed animals that I cherished as a kid and they now fill bins alongside the many toys my kids have received as gifts.  I don’t know why I would assume that my children should have the same sentimental attachment to those items as I clearly had (enough for my mom to decide to hang onto them).  When I discovered that our puppy had recently damaged a beloved stuffed bear I surprised myself and started crying.  My shock that those tears actually surfaced was nothing compared to seeing the look on my husband’s face.  Mouth agape, puzzled brow, and mild concern for my sanity he sat there almost speechless until he said: “Seriously?”  Yep, it’s what I thought too.  Seriously? Why did I care about a thirty year old stuffed bear?  I don’t play with it anymore.  Seeing the nose missing from its face didn’t equal the removal of any piece of my treasured memories from hours spent clutching it in my once small hands.  It’s just another one of those things I don’t need cluttering my life.  Suddenly, sentimentality took on a new meaning to me.  The truth is I really don’t care about the bear (or any of the many other things that I have linked with sentimental meaning), it’s the experiences that those items represent to me that I value.  I want to spend the minutes of my life making experiences that contribute to a life fulfilled.  So what’s my conclusion?  I just simply don’t value stuff anymore.  Ownership of items will still have a place in my life (I’m not going to start sleeping on a bare floor or give away my pots and pans), but in a much different way than before.  I’m a practical person by nature anyway, so future purchases will be given careful consideration to make sure that whatever I bring into my life serves a purpose in a constructive way.  Doing this will leave more room for the few things that I do truly love.  

 

That same energetic puppy contributed to the total demise of our couch.  Six years of kids and dogs forced it to reveal its age with little holes and tears in the fabric.  Surprisingly, the cushions had held up well against the force of repeated jumping and removal to build forts.  But now, sadly, both are ripped wide open and must remain in place covered by a sheet.  We talked about possibly getting it reupholstered.  I’m certain someone has some incredible gold and olive corduroy fabric, though I’m not certain that it’s worth the effort.  Even though my couch is torn and aging it is still comfortable and serves its purpose just fine while covered up; I think it’ll stick around a little while longer.  But in the end, I guess I realized that maybe I don’t love the couch as much as I thought I did.  It isn’t a part of a set, it doesn’t coordinate with other furniture, it doesn’t make me any happier to sit upon than when I sit on the cushions of my mom’s elegant gray sofa or any others owned by family and friends.  It’s just a place to put my butt.  I think the idea that we all live in a material world is hard to escape, but not impossible.  I’m changing how I view the things around me in order to focus more on making an atmosphere of creativity, family togetherness, and valued experiences.  We’ve decided not to trade minutes just attempting to increase our earnings to pay for more stuff.  We want to spend those minutes crafting a simpler life with richer participation.