(Non)Materialism March
Mar. 24th, 2010 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windinthemaplesI started the month with an idea for an experiment wherein I bought nothing but food and other necessary consumables. I'd noticed, as I looked around me, that I am addicted to acquisition. I go shopping with no real needs in mind and collect more and more possessions as I age, collecting like a giant out-of-control snowball flying down the slopes and picking up skiers, trees, discarded cups of hot cocoa along the way. All this stuff then gets bagged up throughout the year and lugged to a charity shop. How many items have I given away that were never used? How many thousands and thousands of dollars a year do I spend on things that do not add to my happiness? How much of the crap I'm obligated to haul around with me on the circus train of my life is actually only existing as a burden to me and the environment?
I was watching a trailer for a documentary, Dive, about dumpster diving in America. A voiceover said something like, "People who throw this much away are demonstrating their complete lack of respect for the resources of the Earth." That pegged me right through the gut. When I mindlessly consume in the hunt for some temporary rush, I'm acting in about as contrary-to-my-religious-beliefs way as is possible to do. I'm ignoring the very real, very finite resources that were ripped from Gaia to shape that battery-powered dancing hampster. When I buy more than I need, I'm greedily taking from the ability of other people who have nothing in other parts of the world to meet their own needs. I'm acting like the spoiled child who wants what I want at the expense of my hard-working Mother, struggling to keep up with my ever escalating needs.
By stepping out of the consumer mouse wheel for a few weeks, I feel like I've sobered up, finally awake to the world around me. I'm seeing the bombardment I was under, the myriad ways I've been manipulated through my life to mold me into the perfect, thoughtless consumer. I'd been taught that the answer to all problems lay in products I could choose to purchase. If I wanted to be more eco-conscious, I could buy bamboo chopping boards, unbleached cotton yoga clothes, reusable bags with cute slogans and winking cartoon trees. If I wanted to control the avalanche of purchases taking over my home, I could buy a larger home, a convenient neighborhood storage space, or lay out hundreds of dollars for color-coordinated hangers and sock drawer dividers at some big box organizational store. Wouldn't the true answer be to not buy differently but to not buy at all? That was my tentative plan for the month...to experiment with the novelty of not acquiring anything.
I knew it would be better for the environment and better for my over-stuffed dwelling, but what I didn't anticipate is how much happier I am without stuff and shopping. I've spent more time with my son playing with the board games and toys he already owns. We've spent hours each day seeking out new neighborhood parks. We discovered the sheer joy of loading up on library books and DVDs and exchanging those piles for new ones every few days. We've delighted in being outside, taking photographs, drawing in the dirt with sticks and pinecones. We've rediscovered treasures I already had in the house--dishes and clothes and solutions-to-problems of all stripes. My junk food consumption has dropped, too, telling me perhaps that the carb-sugar-processed wheel may be directly related to that of the advertiser's buy-buy-buy making. I feel prettier, more powerful, healthier. The constant yearning that shopping attempted to abate has lessened. The addiction's claws aren't as deeply embedded as they were a month ago. I am content in my own skin. I am at peace with stillness.
I knew, before I left for Diana's Grove, that this was a change that needed to continue for more than a month's lark. I knew that the more I learned about issues of resource consumption, garbage, pollution and true need that it would require my circle of compassion to continually expand, for my actions to continually change towards doing the most-good as I could could. It was terrifying, that no-going-back mentality. If you take away shopping and stuff and collections and the effect of 31 years of advertising pitches, what recognizable piece of me will be left? Who will I be if I'm not defined by the things I have, the things I collect, the things I like to buy?
Leaving Diana's Grove, I'm still scared. I liken the sensation to being in the door of an airplane, terrified to jump out. The plane's on fire, though, and while I don't know what the view is going to be like in this radically different lifestyle, I know that I don't want to be in a box of someone else's making any longer. I want my life to amount to more than what I can purchase, to the material items I can pack like insulation around me. I want my life to be lived. I can see a way out and all it'll take is a leap of faith.
That good(s) life that you are trying to sell me on, Big Business? I'm done buying it. I've woken up.
I was watching a trailer for a documentary, Dive, about dumpster diving in America. A voiceover said something like, "People who throw this much away are demonstrating their complete lack of respect for the resources of the Earth." That pegged me right through the gut. When I mindlessly consume in the hunt for some temporary rush, I'm acting in about as contrary-to-my-religious-beliefs way as is possible to do. I'm ignoring the very real, very finite resources that were ripped from Gaia to shape that battery-powered dancing hampster. When I buy more than I need, I'm greedily taking from the ability of other people who have nothing in other parts of the world to meet their own needs. I'm acting like the spoiled child who wants what I want at the expense of my hard-working Mother, struggling to keep up with my ever escalating needs.
By stepping out of the consumer mouse wheel for a few weeks, I feel like I've sobered up, finally awake to the world around me. I'm seeing the bombardment I was under, the myriad ways I've been manipulated through my life to mold me into the perfect, thoughtless consumer. I'd been taught that the answer to all problems lay in products I could choose to purchase. If I wanted to be more eco-conscious, I could buy bamboo chopping boards, unbleached cotton yoga clothes, reusable bags with cute slogans and winking cartoon trees. If I wanted to control the avalanche of purchases taking over my home, I could buy a larger home, a convenient neighborhood storage space, or lay out hundreds of dollars for color-coordinated hangers and sock drawer dividers at some big box organizational store. Wouldn't the true answer be to not buy differently but to not buy at all? That was my tentative plan for the month...to experiment with the novelty of not acquiring anything.
I knew it would be better for the environment and better for my over-stuffed dwelling, but what I didn't anticipate is how much happier I am without stuff and shopping. I've spent more time with my son playing with the board games and toys he already owns. We've spent hours each day seeking out new neighborhood parks. We discovered the sheer joy of loading up on library books and DVDs and exchanging those piles for new ones every few days. We've delighted in being outside, taking photographs, drawing in the dirt with sticks and pinecones. We've rediscovered treasures I already had in the house--dishes and clothes and solutions-to-problems of all stripes. My junk food consumption has dropped, too, telling me perhaps that the carb-sugar-processed wheel may be directly related to that of the advertiser's buy-buy-buy making. I feel prettier, more powerful, healthier. The constant yearning that shopping attempted to abate has lessened. The addiction's claws aren't as deeply embedded as they were a month ago. I am content in my own skin. I am at peace with stillness.
I knew, before I left for Diana's Grove, that this was a change that needed to continue for more than a month's lark. I knew that the more I learned about issues of resource consumption, garbage, pollution and true need that it would require my circle of compassion to continually expand, for my actions to continually change towards doing the most-good as I could could. It was terrifying, that no-going-back mentality. If you take away shopping and stuff and collections and the effect of 31 years of advertising pitches, what recognizable piece of me will be left? Who will I be if I'm not defined by the things I have, the things I collect, the things I like to buy?
Leaving Diana's Grove, I'm still scared. I liken the sensation to being in the door of an airplane, terrified to jump out. The plane's on fire, though, and while I don't know what the view is going to be like in this radically different lifestyle, I know that I don't want to be in a box of someone else's making any longer. I want my life to amount to more than what I can purchase, to the material items I can pack like insulation around me. I want my life to be lived. I can see a way out and all it'll take is a leap of faith.
That good(s) life that you are trying to sell me on, Big Business? I'm done buying it. I've woken up.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 03:45 pm (UTC)Oh and I asked in my own LJ about people's favourite words and noticed one of mine in your writings... "myriad" :-)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 07:00 pm (UTC)I know there's a system out there that can work for everyone, but it's difficult to imagine the whole world changing. You're a pioneer, baby!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:43 am (UTC)Okay, this made me simultaneously cringe and laugh. :D In my (very weak) defense, I have bought a tremendous amount for swap purposes, which is really why I decided to cut ties with the community last year. It was certainly leading to a lot of boxes of crap I didn't want! ;D Once that's cleared out of the way, the rest can be attributed to plenty of discretionary funds, a love of thrifting for bargains, homes with large and handy storage spaces, and a lot of gifts for a lot of friends. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 02:50 am (UTC)I don't think you have to figure that out. But me personally, I think that small-scale artisan made items are in an entirely different class of "stuff". Yes, you create things that occupy space, but they possess a value and quality that is almost never seen anymore in our mass-produced, made-to-break, cheap-crap-from-underpaid-workers market. I can guarantee that nobody is putting your creations in their Goodwill pile. Or like, I have a pair of fair trade handknit socks that I probably paid $20 or $30 for. They seem indestructible and have a charm and artistic quality that makes them some of my favorite clothing items. So if anything, I'm for cutting down crap like giant bags of factory-made socks so that I can really enjoy and savor the good quality of a few excellent handmade substitutes. Likewise, I'd rather have fewer pieces of jewelry made by some giant diamond conglomerate so that I can focus my attention and wearing time on the things that you and Sarah have made for me that mean so much more.
I heard that Story of Stuff lady interviewed on a show and she said something like, "Look, I'm pro-stuff! I like stuff! I just want to buy the right kind of stuff." That's how I feel, too.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 10:48 am (UTC)