My family has been spending this quarantine cleaning out our house.
Going room from room Marie Kondo style: “does this spark joy?”
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The thing is, when it came to my own stuff, I don’t own much with sentimental value. To me, stuff is stuff. We own stuff and either give it meaning, practical use or happiness.
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When it comes down to: stuff has meaning because we give it that. I have a stuffed turtle that I cherish because someone I care about gave it to me. By contrast, a I like I feel impartial to. Why? I don’t know. I like the story but I can find it anywhere.
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I think that we give meaning to stuff, whether it is money, toys, books, because of the memories associated with them. The ‘spark joy’ method isn’t always the best because maybe what I love doesn’t bring joy, but bitter memories I cherish?
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So, what does this thread mean? That’s for you to decide. Think of this quarantine as a time to reflect on what memories you wish to keep and which ones you don’t mind letting go and let that transfer into objects or photographs.
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Nothing can mean everything. Embrace nothing and give it meaning.
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