Anti-Consumerism and Sentimentality
For the majority of my life and even to this day, I would describe myself as being very minimalist, even anti-materialist at many points. It's something I've quietly held close to myself and held up as one of the virtues I like to believe I uphold. Not to claim I'm anywhere near the the complete detachment seen in something like Buddhism. I still have things I value and would be very upset to go without. But I recently realized that the majority of things I own that are like that either have some sort of practical, monetary, or social value. My desktop computer that I write this on, that I work on my hobby game projects, is obviously something that has both practical value, but also monetary value in the parts I've bought for it. Where as something like pictures, or decorative gifts have the social value because of the relationship and connection I have with those I care about.
And for the most part, if something didn't slot into one of those categories, I would not get it in the first place, or I wouldn't keep it. I think this is a pretty luke-warm position have, and I don't say all of this to put myself on some sort of pedestal or imply not living by these principles is immoral. I personally have accumulated a very high disdain for the consumerist tendencies of America as a whole, and especially recently, have been working to detach my life from corporate hell-pits as much as I can. I run Linux on my computer because Microsoft has blackened my soul and left a void where my heart used to be because of the time I have worked in IT. I canceled my Amazon and Spotify subscriptions because I can no longer handle the cognitive dissonance of hating corporate America and continuing to throw money at them. I use a physical notebook to plan out my weeks because getting myself out of my phone as much as possible feels like it is making me a happier and healthier individual.
But something happened to me recently that I feel both widened my understanding of myself and affirmed my existing beliefs. And it's funny how innocuous this was. While spending some time with my old roommate, I had to wash my kitchen knife, and while doing so, the kitchen lighting just happened to catch the blade in the right way for me to notice it's edge. I inspected it close and first lamented on how dulled and chipped the edge was (and still is at time of writing). I've yet to sharpen this knife and it quite frankly, desperately needs it. It's something I've put off because of my anti-materialist tendencies because ostensibly, the knife still works and cuts things. Why should I waste money on a sharpener when it works? Plus this knife was so cheap and I've had it for so long, if I want a sharp knife I might as well just buy a nice one that's brand new. And as I was waxing on all this to my friend, he simply asked how long I had owned the knife. I am generally terrible with remembering dates, and after pondering how long it had actually been, realized I bought this knife right after moving into the first apartment with my then girlfriend, now wife.
Before this point, the knife has always lived in my brain entirely as a cheap tool I bought out of the necessity of being a broke college grad, having not landed a "real" job yet. I was just beginning to learn how to cook for myself, not only to save money but because cooking was becoming (and still is) a small passion of mine. It was the best looking Ikea-branded knife I could find, and I needed something better than hand-me-down steak knives. I always intended to replace it at some point with something of higher quality and never had a second thought about just tossing it once it had reached the end of it's life.
But standing there in the kitchen, seeing all the nicks in that dull blade, thinking of the 4 years I owned it at this point, something flipped in my brain. No longer was this just a tool meant to be used and discarded when done, it had in that moment become a part of me that I don't think I'll ever willingly let go of. And I think for most people, this wouldn't be that big of a deal. Like yeah, you tend to care about things you have history with. For me though, this is one of the few objects I've really had this flip with. The other two being my GameBoy Advance SP and my acoustic guitar. One day I just happened to realize that these were my two oldest possessions. It was just such a weird, and oddly delightful feeling, to have that switch flip in my brain in real time. And while my GameBoy and Guitar have been held onto for mostly sentimental reasons, they also both hold practical value, being object that bring me joy when used. Where as eventually, this knife will lose it's practicality. Either by on it's own merits and maintainability, or in comparison to a replacement that will warrant it's decommission.
Do I, or any of us for that matter, need to start looking for the reason to attach ourselves emotionally to the things we own? Am I cooler, more handsome, and more awesome-r person than you because I looked at a kitchen knife differently? Naw, but I think it's important to try and make sure there's a still a but of sentimentality and whimsy in your life, even when staring down the consumerist hell-scape that is modern America. For a while I think I had conflated consumerism and materialistic hoarding with sentimentality, and that was cutting myself off from an important part of life. I can both try my best to live my more minimalist life, while still holding onto things that have no inherit value. Maybe I'll even finally sharpen that knife so I can etch some more history into that blade before I retire it to proper display case.