It’s 3 am. I should be sleeping after a 10 hour day of work but I need to write, specifically on the word “need”. This insomnia came from snowfall brightening my window and I’m guessing resulting in my brain thinking it’s morning. Either way, it’s a peaceful insomnia. I scrolled through social media; it’s interesting all the night owl posts you miss when your bedtime is consistently before 10pm. My dear friend Jill, who has a very similar life mindset, posted a thought-provoking article on the Diderot Effect and controlling overconsumption. I’d never heard of it before, but the article defined this 18th Century theory on possessions as “the introduction of a new possession into a consumer’s existence will often result in a process of spiraling consumption.”
I could very much identify with the article’s points of how buying one new thing leads to a desire for more “new things” that are of similar status to this new thing. While I feel I’ve mostly broken that purchasing trend, I face a similar issue of possession that I need to break- here and now- to break into Van Life. This is the attachment to possessions. I’ve culled my own belonging several times in order to become minimal enough for the van, while also trying to liquidate for some on hand cash I’ll need for van payments. Oh yes, I’ve given away and sold quite a few lovely things, and yet I still have many possessions. I’ll use that word specifically because each time I attempt to look critically at what’s left (and there’s a LOT left) I nostalgically reminisce on how much this or that means to me, or justify that even though I haven’t worn a particular dress in years- I’ll need it someday.
Take for example my ginkgo bowl. The first time I visited Graycliff I saw this bowl, a beautiful handmade piece of pottery that I just loved. I looked at the price tag, and although far from the spendthrift I am today, upwards of $80 for a decorative piece was not a justifiable price for an impulse purchase. Yet, the bowl lingered in my mind and I ended up calling the shop a few weeks later, only to find out it was discontinued. The shop clerk, however, ever vigilant for a sale, assured me that he could contact the artist to create one just for me. Uncharacteristically I agreed and $90 some-odd dollars later the beautiful bowl came into my possession. It’s several years later, and the ginkgo bowl continually finds itself at the center of any of my living spaces, beautiful to look at, but with little other purpose than to make other items on the shelf unfit to be alongside it, itself useful only as a collection point of business cards I used to collect. I don’t need it. The ginkgo bowl, along with so many other things I own, has no place- and more importantly- use- in the Van Plan. I’ve irrationally wrestled with giving it away, how could I just give up such a lovely piece that personifies my style- and to whom would I gift it? I couldn’t possibly sell it to a stranger- it means too much! Only after reading the above mentioned article did I recognize this unhealthy attachment to my possessions and the self-worth I assume based on their possession. Add to that the self delusion that anyone else would of course assign similar worth to these items- just because I loved them.As always, writing these things down helps solidify their lunacy. If I truly desire to live the Van Plan life now there is no room for possessions of status, or defining of worth based on what I own. I seek a life that will not be easy to maintain, and certainly not attainable if I value things over being.
I know I’ve come a long way from the girl who would easily spend $200 on a shopping trip with no need other than that if getting something new. The only store I enter regularly is the grocery store (my food habits will need to be addressed in a later self-evaluation) and occasional local shop for gifts. These habits formed more from my employment choice of choosing passion over paycheck and adjusting to a much smaller budget as opposed to self-examination of possession attachment.
Guilt over selling or giving away thoughtful gifts must also be set aside. Friends: if you see a gift you purchased for me up for sale, I hope you understand it’s true worth is in propelling me towards my dreams, and that I value our friendship far more than the tokens of it we’ve exchanged over the years.
And so, the ginkgo bowl must go, along with every earthly possession that cannot presently be of use inside the van or needed for present living. If there is anything of mine you desire, please ask for it; I’d gladly fill friend’s homes with things I once loved. You might be gifted one of them either way, and what you do with it is truly up to you. Things are things, I seek connections and experiences first and foremost. I can hold on to a dress, or a bowl until I die- but the relinquishment of possessions of yesterday results in the realization of my dreams today.
