Stuff

So many of us live cluttered lives. Just for sport, trying taking the ten second clutter quiz: 1.) Do you park all of your cars in the garage? 2.) Do you pay for an off site storage unit for part of your personal possessions? 3.) If you were to install new carpet tomorrow, would it require a lot of re-stacking and organizing? The fact is that we Americans, so accustomed to prosperity and abundance, seem to take for granted the quantity of our processions, and the management thereof. We always seem to need the latest, greatest, new and improved, whatever just came on the market, thing-a-ma-jig. We are constantly on the upgrade quest, leaving a wake of perfectly good personal property in our wake. Each successive one, of course, becoming obsolete nearly as soon as we purchase it. The question one must occasionally ask himself is whether there is an acceptable saturation point or limit to what we need. Is there a point at which a reasonable person simple says, "enough." If there is not, then we must carefully consider whether our happiness is somehow subconsciously tied to an unquenchable pyramid of possessions. In the end, after all, it's only stuff and wise is the man who doesn't find himself needing too much. For happiness, true happiness, should well up from within a man or woman ... regardless of how well they are equipped. As silt clogs a river or plaque clogs an artery, so are possessions to the soul of a man.

Stuff
Have you ever stopped to notice
How we fill our lives with stuff
And no matter what I think I need
It's never quite enough
Once I reach the top and have it all
I think that I am through
Then technology advances
They come up with something new
And I know that I must have it
It's the thing I really need
So the shopping list expands again
As I strive to quench my greed
I flit from toy to gadget
Wanting each just like the rest
Better, newer, smarter, faster
I must own it, it's my quest
And as the object of my passion
Changes daily, soon I find
A pile of junk I wanted
In the wake I've left behind
My garage and room are piled high
With the things I used to need
Which now have been discarded
In the progression of my greed
Free market, no free lunch
I'm a consumer through and through
But beware of passing judgement
Since I'm, most likely, just like you
I've earned it, I can spend it
That's not so bad as you suppose
Besides, I'll be finally, truly happy
If I can just get one of those
By Frank Carpenter ©