It certainly didn’t start with the Jefferson family, but they helped promote the idea.
Every week their theme song proclaimed, “We’re moving on up!”
It was added to the millions of other rallying cries for the ever-upwardly mobile. We were/are constantly told that our goal is to have more. Want more. Get more. Be more. Have more. More! More!
Yesterday I heard an ad that went something like this…”we all want more, and look! buy this product and you can have it!”
Every day we are bombarded with the hope and illusion of ads. If we buy this beer, we will miraculously be surrounded by hip and happening people, or if we splash on this perfume we will have people following us like hummingbirds to a feeder. Intellectually we scoff. We know what those ads are all about. Ha! We’re smarter than those Mad Men think.
But regardless of our clever dismissals, the messages leak in steadily…some overt, some subtle. Especially here in Canada and the U.S., we have only to look around to know that youth and beauty are to be revered and everyone else is expected to slowly slip away and disappear; out of sight and out of mind. That of course, helps sell Botox, surgery, personal trainers and buckets of anti-aging everything.
Today though, I am occupied with thoughts of what, and when, is it enough?
In spite of our early retirement and our idea to live with less, something has been slowly creeping up on us. We have found ourselves in this position of having acquired more and more. Two vehicles. Two homes. Stuff here. Stuff there.
Recently I asked Kevin what he was grateful for. “Everything,” he said. “What exactly?” I asked. He replied, “That our only problems are ones of over-abundance.” Not exactly what you can actually even call a problem. It’s a ridiculous First-World issue.
I don’t think we’re alone in this. More and more studies are telling us that after a certain point, the acquisition of ‘more’ has definite dimimishing returns.
We are going back to the beginnings of our initial retirement plan. Things have been donated to charity. Other stuff has gone to friends. The pick up truck is for sale. The two-bedroom apartment will be sold next and we’re looking for something smaller.
I don’t want to sound like this is something we’re doing flippantly. I can assure you that at 1:57 a.m. this morning, I was not feeling particularly light-hearted about these decisions at all. In fact, I feel a new kinship with those battered salmon as they swim against the stream.
Like a crow, I love the shiny and the new. I don’t want to wear a hair-shirt and suffer. I just want more room in my life for living and experiences, instead of continually taking care of our expanding pile o’ stuff.
Ever onward. Stay tuned. Who knows where this will lead…
I do know this. In yoga, I like hanging out in downward dog. Maybe downward mobility is kind of similar.
I couldn’t agree more with your philosophy and am really reminded of what a consumer lifestyle I live whenever I go to Guatemala and visit my mother-in-law who doesn’t even own a garbage can. All the food they eat on the ranch is fresh and sourced within walking distance so has no wrappings. Whatever food isn’t eaten is fed to the pigs, the chickens or Radar the dog. No technology, no TV, no vast wardrobes or well-equipped kitchens — just the cycle of sunrise, sunset and stars. A simple life but rich in many ways.
Wow Michele. It’s hard to imagine not owning a garbage can. I find that whole idea so attractive, and yet, I don’t know if I could live without my laptop and internet.
I feel like Steve Martin in that old movie, The Jerk. He’s lost all his money and he’s yelling, “I don’t need any of this!” and then he looks at his lamp and says, “Wait. I need this.” Then he sees something else, “And I need this,” and on it goes, until he’s grabbing and clutching a bunch of junk. That’s me. I’m a work-in-progress. No doubt about that!
You two are inspiring. Ten years ago down-sized from the big house and the big mortgage, but like you say, it’s a slow and steady creep. But Lean feels so much better, so keep encouraging the rest of us!
I am a Cancerian and I am a hoarder so I tend to keep everything – I mean everything. All the letters that my parents have sent me over the years, the family heirloom to clothes. I have a t-shirt that I bought when I was 22 that I wear occasionally (I am 64 now). I get attached to everything as everything represents a memory that I don’t want to lose (I don’t let go very easily). But as we get older I think we need to give more – and enjoy the giving rather than the taking. We need less stuff. I give clothes and other items to charity shops sometimes inadvertently giving things that I meant to keep!
Catherine, I know what you mean about memories feeling attached to items. It is hard to separate those associations. I’ve tried a few different tricks; taking a photo of the item, or giving it to someone in the family that it would also find it meaningful, I have even given items to friends with the proviso that they’re simply ‘storing’ it for me so that I feel like I can always go back and get it…so far, that hasn’t happened 🙂
I just know that when I’m traveling I am happiest with the least amount of stuff weighing me down and I really want to replicate that in my ‘regular’ life too.
However, I don’t think it’s necessarily a better way than nesting with all your things. If you have the room and it brings you happiness, how can that be bad? I think we all need to find the right fit for ourselves.
Right now, I just feel the need to edit mine.
This post really resonated with me – not without irony since we were the happy recipients of your sofa for the Vancouver condo – and we’re doing a similar reflection. Are we working for stuff, or to have experiences and peace? 90% of my stress comes from money-related issues, and most of that could be managed by living smaller… one home, only stuff we use (that paddleboard better be busy this year), less food, less things to cook it in, and on and on it goes. Our favorite activity is the weekly excursion route of St. Mary’s Hospital Auxiliary thrift store with donations, the Sechelt Dump, and the share shed. All one way, too!
Practicing downwardly mobile in Sechelt…
I know what you mean about your favourite weekly activity being the weekly excursion of donations.
How bizarre is it, that we spent all that time to make the money to buy the stuff that we’re now getting more delight out of giving away? Granted, that was a rather lengthy run-on sentence, but I know you get my drift.
What I’m trying to say is that I’m getting more enjoyment out of giving away the stuff than I had acquiring it.
And why are we spending all this time acquiring, taking care of, insuring, dealing with, and generally schlepping shit when my best memories are of times with friends or traveling or being active. Granted, those experiences often require some money, but when they’re done, they certainly don’t take up much space in my closet…