Interesting. I gave almost everything away when I left the U.S. for Sweden. It wasn't difficult because I was desperate to leave and in a big hurry. But sometimes I see my old things in photos and I miss them. All that stuff bore witness to time, for me. I had the stuff, so I didn't have to do the work of making sense of what it all meant. Possessions are kind of a way of stopping time.
Thanks for your comment, Laura. I agree that possessions, as both you and Kondo say, bear witness to time, and the experiences we have had. But I don't understand what you mean by, "I had the stuff, so I didn't have to do the work of making sense of what it all meant." Don't you have to do that sense-making when you finally decide to get rid of the things? Or maybe in your case you didn't have the luxury of processing it all. Was that hard?
You’re right — I didn’t have the luxury of processing it. I just watched that big truck drive away and felt numb. I was trying to become a different person (less stressed/overworked and more centered on experience v stuff), so I needed to let it all fall away. I have a friend with a serious hoarding problem. When I tried to help her organize her kitchen, she got hysterical when I asked if we could throw out an ancient, long-dead frying pan. She couldn’t breathe. It’s amazing how much emotional power was in that pan for her.
Great post—a marvel of clearing out various related thoughts that might otherwise gather dust in the attic of one’s mind. But I’m surprised that you didn’t cover one topic that has been a source of mild obsession for Bina (my wife, your friend): Swedish death cleaning. See the link below for one of many online articles about it. Here’s the money quote: “‘Some people can’t wrap their heads around death. And these people leave a mess after them. Did they think they were immortal?’ ... The benefit of death cleaning to your loved ones who won’t have to do it for you is fairly straightforward.” In other words, not just the sins of the fathers, but also their stuff, is visited upon the children, and we should relieve our heirs of this burden if at all possible.
Mike, I'm glad you liked the post (and hi to Bina). I am only peripherally aware of Swedish Death Cleaning, as nobody I know has ever done it. I also have heard this topic discussed in an American context, since in the US, children often find themselves saddled with amazing amounts of stuff that once seemed valuable but now is unsaleable (e.g., antique sets of dishes). I think I remember Brené Brown writing about this in one of her books, too. I suppose this is going to be a problem in any society that ranks high on materialism. The only thing that I can say about Sweden is that I have noticed a very strong anti-nostalgia tendency that is a part of the package of Swedish modernity.
Alex and Francesca here. We were just talking about what a brilliant teacher you are and fondly reminiscing about your GES handouts. Both of us are loving the blog.
Oh wow, Alex and Francesca! How are you? It's been quite a while. You are very kind. I didn't realize you had subscribed. Please tell Francesca that I actually did the thing she wanted me to do and created an Instagram account to detail my turtle's travels around Europe. Send me a direct message and I'll tell you about it. Kramar!
Thanks, for this excellent piece. It's hard work to get rid of stuff. For two years before leaving for Portugal, we spent weekends sifting, sorting, and packing things. If the item carried too much emotional baggage, we'd put it into the "pass" box and review it weeks, maybe months later. By "passing" it, we were able to continue with the process. Now that we are "settled" in our new home, I told my husband that we needed to continue reviewing what we have and give it away if needed.
Thanks for the feedback, Maria! I really like the idea of a "pass box". But what happened with the things in it when you moved? Did you take them with you or leave them behind? I find that when I don't know what to do with something, the default is always to keep it, which means that if one tends to be indecisive, one ends up with more and more things.
We were able to give away most of the “pass box” items keeping only the things we just couldn’t part with. But, it was a slow and systematic returning to these every few weeks.
That sounds very good. I like the idea of an iterative process that really forces you to consider your perspective on each thing. I may try that myself.
Thank you for this. I appreciate the varied cultural perspectives as well as the introspection and the sensitivity in not throwing shade at those of us who are also plagued by all of the extra material items looming over our air. And I love your interspersed photographs, even though these are more pointed and less inspiring than your usual. Oh, and I’m sure no one else noticed, but the reflection in the pendulum of the Regulator clock makes you look very, um, wide.
This is a great piece. At some point I’d love to hear your thoughts on the opposite of amassing things: avoiding amassing things. I’m beginning to think the latter is not about being able to resist buying things (i.e., resist amassing), but rather that it results from its own set of possible cultural and psychological issues.
Thanks, Tove! You raise an interesting question. I don't think I have a good answer, though one thought that occurs to me is to reference Gretchen Rubin's theory that everyone is either an "overbuyer" or an "underbuyer". But then there are also people who avoid acquiring things to a pathological extent. I once knew a woman whose father was a terrible hoarder, and she had developed an "anti-hoarding" pathology (not sure what the correct term is), such that she owned almost nothing. Walking into her house, you felt like you were in a hotel room, because of the near-total absence of personal belongings. So I suppose it cuts both ways, at least in terms of psychological factors. It would be interesting to hear from people in Japan about whether Marie Kondo's spartanism has cultural underpinnings.
Is that a Hello Kitty-shaped bat-signal I see in the sky above Saitama?
Wow, so much to respond to here. One could devote an entire Substack to writing about Japanese attitudes to the issues you raise in this essay.
Though I am in Japan (but not of Japan,) I must confess that I have never actually read any of Marie Kondo’s books (though I have watched a couple of episodes of her Netflix series,) so I don’t feel entirely qualified to speak about the cultural roots of Ms. Kondo’s approach. But I will note that there is a minimalist aesthetic deeply woven into the heart of Japanese culture (conjure in your mind the stereotypical image of a room with a tatami mat floor and shoji panel doors, where the only decorations are a calligraphy scroll on the wall and a shelf with a vase holding a cherry blossom branch, and you get the idea.) My impression is that her brand of minimalism, while not entirely congruent with that tradition, certainly resonates with it.
I should note also that few people in modern Japan actually live their lives in accordance with the type minimalist aesthetic I described. The spirit of capitalist consumerism is alive and well here, and with it the tendency to accumulate more than one needs. Hence the receptive audience for the radical corrective measures espoused by Ms. Kondo.
As I said, so much to respond to here. With regard to your point about conscientiousness, I would be remiss not to bring up the Japanese word “mottainai,” which is one of those words that is notoriously difficult to translate accurately and succinctly. I would describe it as an admonition against letting something go to waste. And there are re-use shops here where one can sell and buy used clothing, electronics, appliances, musical instruments, statues of anime characters--in short, just about anything.
Lastly, as someone who is currently preparing to decamp for a different part of the Elsewhere, everything in this post is of particular relevance to me right now. It is one thing to hold one of your possessions in your hands and ask yourself “Does this spark joy?”, but you often get a different answer when the question changes to “Does this spark enough joy for me to pack it in a box and pay to have it shipped 6,000 kilometers?”
This is fantastic, Alex! Thanks for taking the bait. I think I understand now that Kondo's method would have a more natural appeal in Japan because it promises to assist people in achieving an aesthetic that is already valued, rather than (as in the USA) offering people an entirely new aesthetic.
Interesting. I gave almost everything away when I left the U.S. for Sweden. It wasn't difficult because I was desperate to leave and in a big hurry. But sometimes I see my old things in photos and I miss them. All that stuff bore witness to time, for me. I had the stuff, so I didn't have to do the work of making sense of what it all meant. Possessions are kind of a way of stopping time.
Thanks for your comment, Laura. I agree that possessions, as both you and Kondo say, bear witness to time, and the experiences we have had. But I don't understand what you mean by, "I had the stuff, so I didn't have to do the work of making sense of what it all meant." Don't you have to do that sense-making when you finally decide to get rid of the things? Or maybe in your case you didn't have the luxury of processing it all. Was that hard?
You’re right — I didn’t have the luxury of processing it. I just watched that big truck drive away and felt numb. I was trying to become a different person (less stressed/overworked and more centered on experience v stuff), so I needed to let it all fall away. I have a friend with a serious hoarding problem. When I tried to help her organize her kitchen, she got hysterical when I asked if we could throw out an ancient, long-dead frying pan. She couldn’t breathe. It’s amazing how much emotional power was in that pan for her.
Great post—a marvel of clearing out various related thoughts that might otherwise gather dust in the attic of one’s mind. But I’m surprised that you didn’t cover one topic that has been a source of mild obsession for Bina (my wife, your friend): Swedish death cleaning. See the link below for one of many online articles about it. Here’s the money quote: “‘Some people can’t wrap their heads around death. And these people leave a mess after them. Did they think they were immortal?’ ... The benefit of death cleaning to your loved ones who won’t have to do it for you is fairly straightforward.” In other words, not just the sins of the fathers, but also their stuff, is visited upon the children, and we should relieve our heirs of this burden if at all possible.
LINK: https://www.nbcnews.com/better/health/what-swedish-death-cleaning-should-you-be-doing-it-ncna816511
Mike, I'm glad you liked the post (and hi to Bina). I am only peripherally aware of Swedish Death Cleaning, as nobody I know has ever done it. I also have heard this topic discussed in an American context, since in the US, children often find themselves saddled with amazing amounts of stuff that once seemed valuable but now is unsaleable (e.g., antique sets of dishes). I think I remember Brené Brown writing about this in one of her books, too. I suppose this is going to be a problem in any society that ranks high on materialism. The only thing that I can say about Sweden is that I have noticed a very strong anti-nostalgia tendency that is a part of the package of Swedish modernity.
Hi Gregory,
Alex and Francesca here. We were just talking about what a brilliant teacher you are and fondly reminiscing about your GES handouts. Both of us are loving the blog.
Oh wow, Alex and Francesca! How are you? It's been quite a while. You are very kind. I didn't realize you had subscribed. Please tell Francesca that I actually did the thing she wanted me to do and created an Instagram account to detail my turtle's travels around Europe. Send me a direct message and I'll tell you about it. Kramar!
Thanks, for this excellent piece. It's hard work to get rid of stuff. For two years before leaving for Portugal, we spent weekends sifting, sorting, and packing things. If the item carried too much emotional baggage, we'd put it into the "pass" box and review it weeks, maybe months later. By "passing" it, we were able to continue with the process. Now that we are "settled" in our new home, I told my husband that we needed to continue reviewing what we have and give it away if needed.
Thanks for the feedback, Maria! I really like the idea of a "pass box". But what happened with the things in it when you moved? Did you take them with you or leave them behind? I find that when I don't know what to do with something, the default is always to keep it, which means that if one tends to be indecisive, one ends up with more and more things.
We were able to give away most of the “pass box” items keeping only the things we just couldn’t part with. But, it was a slow and systematic returning to these every few weeks.
That sounds very good. I like the idea of an iterative process that really forces you to consider your perspective on each thing. I may try that myself.
Thank you for this. I appreciate the varied cultural perspectives as well as the introspection and the sensitivity in not throwing shade at those of us who are also plagued by all of the extra material items looming over our air. And I love your interspersed photographs, even though these are more pointed and less inspiring than your usual. Oh, and I’m sure no one else noticed, but the reflection in the pendulum of the Regulator clock makes you look very, um, wide.
Thanks, Adam. If you think the Regulator clock makes me look wide, you should see what Portuguese cuisine can do!
This is a great piece. At some point I’d love to hear your thoughts on the opposite of amassing things: avoiding amassing things. I’m beginning to think the latter is not about being able to resist buying things (i.e., resist amassing), but rather that it results from its own set of possible cultural and psychological issues.
Thanks, Tove! You raise an interesting question. I don't think I have a good answer, though one thought that occurs to me is to reference Gretchen Rubin's theory that everyone is either an "overbuyer" or an "underbuyer". But then there are also people who avoid acquiring things to a pathological extent. I once knew a woman whose father was a terrible hoarder, and she had developed an "anti-hoarding" pathology (not sure what the correct term is), such that she owned almost nothing. Walking into her house, you felt like you were in a hotel room, because of the near-total absence of personal belongings. So I suppose it cuts both ways, at least in terms of psychological factors. It would be interesting to hear from people in Japan about whether Marie Kondo's spartanism has cultural underpinnings.
Is that a Hello Kitty-shaped bat-signal I see in the sky above Saitama?
Wow, so much to respond to here. One could devote an entire Substack to writing about Japanese attitudes to the issues you raise in this essay.
Though I am in Japan (but not of Japan,) I must confess that I have never actually read any of Marie Kondo’s books (though I have watched a couple of episodes of her Netflix series,) so I don’t feel entirely qualified to speak about the cultural roots of Ms. Kondo’s approach. But I will note that there is a minimalist aesthetic deeply woven into the heart of Japanese culture (conjure in your mind the stereotypical image of a room with a tatami mat floor and shoji panel doors, where the only decorations are a calligraphy scroll on the wall and a shelf with a vase holding a cherry blossom branch, and you get the idea.) My impression is that her brand of minimalism, while not entirely congruent with that tradition, certainly resonates with it.
I should note also that few people in modern Japan actually live their lives in accordance with the type minimalist aesthetic I described. The spirit of capitalist consumerism is alive and well here, and with it the tendency to accumulate more than one needs. Hence the receptive audience for the radical corrective measures espoused by Ms. Kondo.
As I said, so much to respond to here. With regard to your point about conscientiousness, I would be remiss not to bring up the Japanese word “mottainai,” which is one of those words that is notoriously difficult to translate accurately and succinctly. I would describe it as an admonition against letting something go to waste. And there are re-use shops here where one can sell and buy used clothing, electronics, appliances, musical instruments, statues of anime characters--in short, just about anything.
Lastly, as someone who is currently preparing to decamp for a different part of the Elsewhere, everything in this post is of particular relevance to me right now. It is one thing to hold one of your possessions in your hands and ask yourself “Does this spark joy?”, but you often get a different answer when the question changes to “Does this spark enough joy for me to pack it in a box and pay to have it shipped 6,000 kilometers?”
This is fantastic, Alex! Thanks for taking the bait. I think I understand now that Kondo's method would have a more natural appeal in Japan because it promises to assist people in achieving an aesthetic that is already valued, rather than (as in the USA) offering people an entirely new aesthetic.