Packrat Syndrome

I was at a store the other day with my mom, and we were buying things. As you do. Along the way I idly began to catalogue the sheer volume of all of the things on the endless shelves and their myriad uses. I find it staggering to think that within the hundreds of various products to be found in any given mass retail store, there are millions of people who will find use of them. I guess it's all about minutia. Next time you're in a tall building or have a really good view, take a look at the nearest street or freeway. Hundreds of thousands of cars crawl like ants endlessly into the horizon. Now visualize that each car holds at least one human being and that the car they are driving is likely only one of hundreds of possessions that person is likely to have. Now multiply that generous "hundreds" of possessions by the number of cars you can see at any given moment. My point is that humanity seems completely tied to the things that we own. We surround ourselves with things and items and trinkets. The question of course is necessity. How much do we really need and why do we really need it?

Obviously many of the things we own come from a place of satisfying a basic need. Our homes, our means of conveyance, our food and the various storage thereof, and our clothing all stem from a reasonably justifiable life requirement. Another category of things that we collect revolve around our entertainment. While we find ways to keep ourselves busy in life, obviously much joy is derived from the things we undertake in our "free time". TV's, sports equipment, cameras, video games, books, papers, pencils, and various other and infinite items of amusement fill our lives from every angle. Lastly, we collect items as a means of memory or remembrance. This a much more broad subset that encompasses aspects of all of the categories of possession, and it is likely the aspect that causes the most problems. Pictures of family and friends, mementos of dear or lost acquaintances, heirlooms, and items attached to specific and resonant moments in our lives could all feasibly fall under the purview of acceptable collection. Even though at the most basic and essential level these items don't serve to prolong or support your living from day to day, we allow these items on a primal level as proof of our existence. No, items collected due to memory are most problematic when tied together with a sense of identity that is directly proportional to our happiness.

Refer to the aforementioned 'entertainment' possessions. Indeed while many of the forms of amusement we dabble are in essence useless in a Darwinian sense, human kind has arguably always shown a need for some kind of activity to balance idle moments. The question becomes what actions are taken when such items outlive their usefulness? For many, things are stored away and slowly fade from our consciousness over time. In some cases these items lose none of their use and upon some random thought-string we are able to recall it and put it back into use in the ebb and flow of our lives. In many more cases than some would like to admit, though, the items we store away tend to pile up and entrench us in our places both physically and figuratively. I call this the Packrat Syndrome, and it has both positive and negative effects on everyone.

As I stated earlier, it all comes down to necessity. In a purely black and white, cut and dry view of the world the only items we would own and keep are the ones that would suite us in the pursuit of living. I suppose this would come down to clothes to protect against the elements, a steady source of food, and some kind of shelter in which to seek rest or retreat. Some of these could be disputed themselves upon further scrutiny. Thus it would seem that 'necessity' is a subjective term. While some would consider dozens upon dozens of old shoeboxes filled with decades old photos stacked in an attic somewhere 'necessary' to happiness, there are just as many who may find this limiting. One of the most common trends that come with the passing of time is our joint accumulation of possession. As we age we collect and inherit and create more and more things by which we identify ourselves to the point that as we age it becomes harder and harder to simply move one's life without great effort. And here is the great debate of necessity. To some, filling one's life with things represents a natural settling down; perhaps even a planting of personal roots of which all things moving forward in life blossom. To others, accumulation is only a limiter to the things we can freely do in our lives.

The lease on my apartment is going to be up in about three months' time. I'm having a considerably hard time deciding whether to renew the lease and stay longer, or pack everything up and move home for a while. As I had these thoughts, I took stock of my living space and all the things I had accumulated over the previous year. Even though I am only one person living alone in a relatively small space, the sheer amount of 'things' I've stashed and piled is kind of impressive. Every drawer has something in it, every closet or nook or cranny... I think the oddest moment of clarity was looking over my bookshelf. I do not read an excessive amount, but I have read a good deal of different books. As I skimmed the myriad titles and genres, I could not help but ask myself what the chances were I would ever reasonably read some of the books I saw again. If I were being honest with myself, some books just as well never may be opened again outside of passing fancy. It is here that I experienced the problematic sense memory identifying attached to many people and many possessions. Regardless of their use, these were my books that I liked enough to read. Some of them were gifts. Some of them were really, really cool at the time. It wasn't long before I knew I couldn't easily part with any of them. The books had become tied to my sense of self. They defined me.

And so it is with people the world over. A long while back I had a friend who spoke to me about having to pair down their life and thusly their possessions in order to allow for ease of movement from place to place. At the time I remember thinking about all the things I called my own and what I would take with me and what I could part with if the opportunity ever arose. It's not an easy task slimming down your precious possessions to the things that really matter, and those things that do last really begin to matter in a huge way. I guess the truth is that we are the things we surround ourselves with and, like it or not, we identify ourselves by them. In the end it all comes down to necessity: the things we can't do without that define us outside of our own internal sense of self. There's a part of me that wishes I was more libertarian on the issue, but I think we all need something outside of ourselves to remind us of who we are. An objective identifier against a vast ocean of subjective definitions though not at all less personal. Life is an amazing journey of things and the things and people we surround ourselves with. Deciding what we can and cannot live without is just one facet of that fantastic voyage, and one that we all should take account.