In the roar of a movie that is Fight Club, this whisper of a line--albeit an important whisper--always sticks out to me.
My boss is cleaning out her house, mercilessly donating and tossing old/unwanted things. What I mean is I am tossing/donating. My boss is deciding what to toss/donate. Even though it's not my house, and the books/bags/clothes/furniture aren't mine either, getting rid of stuff feels good. Her things don't own her as much as they define her, though naming is just a different form of ownership.
In my own home, I don't feel owned by my things. I'm a staunch clutter-remover. My room is only 64 square feet, so it's not like I have a ton of storage space. And yet, I could be better. I consider myself an amateur minimalist with sentimental tendencies--I don't hoard things, but I'm guilty of holding onto certain things. I give meaning to inanimate objects (this is why a lot of my belongings have names and/or personalities) because, as an introvert, it's comforting to have control over my surroundings.
The things you own end up owning you.
That line came back to me Sunday night, after a rough day of working through unpleasant memories. I like to think Tyler Durden wasn't limiting his "things" to physical objects, because some days I'm not sure if I own my memories or they own me. I've spent years rewriting the ending and closing the book to my past, but generally it's to no avail. As long as I clench my fist around my "things" (memories, experiences, views of myself), they've got me wrapped around their fingers.
What I'm trying to reconcile is how to claim my past without letting it clutter me. How to have things without being those things. How to let go without forgetting what got me to where I am today. I want to be a minimalist, but I don't want to minimize. Like the sentimental value I bestow on my trinkets, my experiences--high and low--mean something.
I want to move past the idea of my memories owning me and see what's on the other side, but it's a good bet that the only way out is through. I can't simply disengage. I have to sit with my discomfort, explore its every aspect, and know it completely--I love a good puzzle, and I love doing research. Instead of clenching my fist in ownership, I will take apart the pieces of what I own. I will dismantle my experiences until they become nothing more than a collection of harmless knick knacks. And those I can let go of.
---
---
THANKS: 101.1 for providing a radio experience that helps me keep my sanity on the pot-hole-filled, never-quite-plowed streets of Chicago.
I think we cannot help attaching to particular inanimate objects. I have bouts of wanting to rid of clutter. I had a sizable experience after returning from a mission trip to Belize and seeing how much excess we have here.
ReplyDeleteMission trips and other events that take us out of our comfort zones definitely help us to re-evaluate what's important.
DeleteI like how you connect the beginning and end of your story with the line from Fight Club; starting with helping your boss with physical clutter and then moving to your own "stuff" - mementos and memories. I especially like your last three lines.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I had both ideas sitting in my head and thought there might be a connection somehow.
DeleteEvery so often I have to purge my closet, or I get antsy and feel weighed down...
ReplyDeleteMe too. Mostly I rearrange furniture. When I can't control my life, I can at least control where my bed goes, right?
Delete