Materialism

There have been a few tragic losses as a result of the move – particularly my career and social life. Some materialistic losses have also occurred. A few wine glasses, the toaster, a picture frame, a mixing bowl and the wheel bearings on my caravan all perished in the journey. These losses are trivial.
Before I left my little house in the city I packed all my precious things in a small box and took them with me in my car. These were things not to be trusted to the removalists, I would carry them myself. The box contained my most expensive rings, including my gorgeous black opal and white gold engagement ring and my mother's wedding and engagement ring from my father. Also my video camera and the tapes of the girl learning to walk and various other moments from her babyhood. These things are all gone. I have searched for them everyday for the past month. They are not here. The box is not here. I am devastated.
One of the philosophical questions that has arisen as a result of the move concerns my materialistic view of life. I acquire, I hoard. Why do I do this? I can contribute an element of it to my childhood in a single parent family in which money was scarce and "nice" things were few. I compensate now for what I feel I "missed out on" as a child. I love to surround myself with beautiful things, my sense of aesthetics is strong, if not slightly unusual and I feel more comfortable in an environment that looks good. Maybe I can throw this back to childhood as well. I always felt envious when I went to friends houses and they had nice furniture and things that matched. I was always embarrassed when friends visited me and our furniture was secondhand, tatty and what would now be considered "an eclectic mix".
I also have many hobbies, crafty stuff and cooking. As a result I own a sewing machine, over locker, boxes of dress patterns, sewing paraphernalia and mountains of fabric. I also have many knitting needles, crotchet hooks and bags of wool. I have a multitude of books that accompany these past times. But by far my greatest love is cooking. I have many cookbooks, hundreds of foodie magazines (porn) and folders full of recipes. When I cook (or do anything) I like to have the correct utensils, so I also own every kitchen appliance and gadget available. I have many knives, multiple wooden spoons in many shapes and sizes. I have peelers and zesters, corers and crushers. I can make ice-cream, bread, juice, waffles, toasted sandwiches and pasta. I can blend, puree, chop, shred, grate, grind, mix, whip and knead. All at the touch of a button. I can make cakes in various sizes and shapes. I can make cupcakes or muffins or madellines.
All this stuff I feel I "need" and I do actually use most of it. I admit I haven't made waffles for years and I haven't juiced a carrot for longer than I remember….but if I wanted to….
So the question has been presented – do I really need all this stuff? I have started to cull things and have made several sizable donations to the Smith Family bin at the shops. And just when I think I am getting better and I am attaching much less importance on material wealth I finally have to admit my box of precious things is lost. Of all the things I could have lost – why this stuff? Why not one of the boxes of the girl's baby clothes? Why not a box of books I haven't read for years?
I appreciate that occasionally the universe or the gods or whoever/whatever it is that dabbles with our lives feels the need to teach us a lesson – but why is it always so damn harsh? Why do we always bump into our ex boyfriends on the day we have finally felt brave enough to organize a date with a potential new love? Why, when we have a cold and are feeling glum do meet somebody who has a brain tumour and is cheerful? Why do we only meet old high school buddies in the street when we have just popped out quickly with no make up, bad hair and wearing track pants?
These things are sent to try us…try us for what? What are we being prepared for? To be the most well adjusted and serene corpse in the graveyard? Fuck that.
So I say this to the gods…stick your life lessons up your collective bums and give me back my rings and my girl's first steps.