I cherish these things that belonged to my relatives. I also admire all the items I have collected over the years. My walls are full of images that most likely mean nothing to anyone but me. I love books. I love china, I love objects, and my place is full of them. I love flea markets, 2nd hand stores, and auctions- all the places one should avoid to have a minimalist life. I love the history of things, whether it is a history I know or create.
I look at minimalist spaces in magazines and think how beautiful the room looks, but how practical is that? Where will my knitting basket go? what about my weaving supplies? What about all my little treasures? We are told that minimal living is healthy, it is mature, and it is good. And since Marie Kondo came on the scene, I am sure record numbers of people's belongings have ended up in the dump.
We are bombarded with ideas that having stuff ties us down and ultimately makes us unhappy. I do not believe this to be true for everyone. I have minimized. I sold my house and moved from an 1800 square foot space to a 700 square foot apartment. I got rid of so much stuff. That was 3 years ago and I still mourn some of those things I gave away. Some of it yes, legitimately needed to go, the rest of it still haunts me.
There is a certain amount of acceptance we must allow for ourselves. We need to not be washed over by societal expectations or trends. We need to be true to our nature and not constantly try to change ourselves to fit into a mold, or just do it because it's the newest thing going.
I am a collector. I like objects and things. I find stuff inspiring and it brings me joy. It reminds me of who I am, where I came from and often is insightful to whom I strive to be.
