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On January 1st I vowed to not buy things for a year. I made a few exceptions, in addition to buying food and household necessities, I allowed myself to buy books and clothing to give to people living on the street. I was inspired by Ann Patchett’s article in which she described her experience of not shopping for a year, and her decision to extend this practice for a second year.
Cutting back on acquiring things is not recommended for everyone but it turned out to be very good medicine for me, for a number of reasons. I learned to place too much value on things—and not enough value on the intangibles. Thinking about things occupied my thoughts too often. In my entire life, I've never gone without, except by choice. And I had plenty of things already, including a closet full of clothes.
But even with my having so much, it scared me to take the vow not to buy anything. I didn’t know if I could do it. I love things and loved finding things that were appealing or useful, all the while also lightening my load by sorting through things in the attic to give away.
No wonder I was afraid! A few days later I went to the Goodwill, looking for clothing to buy for people in need when a perfect fitting pair of almost-new moss green boots literally appeared before me. And though I felt guilty, I couldn’t resist buying them, for myself. When I got home, I stashed them in the attic with the idea that I'd wait a year to wear them. But even out of sight they pestered me. I didn’t want to want them but I couldn't bear to give them away.
Praise the $11.95 Italian green boots for revealing my addiction! It was the endless hunt for things that was the problem; it wasn’t what I was buying or spending but how I was shopping. Stopping at the thrift store when I had a free half hour wasn't as benign as I had thought it was. I had to give thrift stores up completely for 2018 in order to see that my habitual shopping was reinforcing many unhealthy untruths: that my needs are met from outside myself; that I should have what I want, when I want it; that I am in control; and that I can only be satisfied momentarily until the next longings arise.
I find shopping for food and using what I have—without the habitual need for more—enormously satisfying. And I've freed up time and energy for more creative pursuits. For those of you who share a compulsive love of the hunt for things, if you are interested, consider how much thought and time you are giving to things. What is the experience actually giving you (or taking)? What are the costs involved? Are you aware of what you’re feeling when you're shopping?
I thought I was ready to give the boots away when I got them down from the attic to take their picture. But I put them on...and not quite yet...still attached. But I’m so grateful to be in a continuing process of examining my relationship with things, the green boots in particular.
