A close look at how much we accumulate in life and how much of it we really need
Every few years or so, diplomats and their families are faced with the challenge of sorting through accumulated possessions. It’s kind of a thing you’re forced into when you have to pack up and move your whole life from one country to another. You’d think that people will end up becoming minimalists but since 2011, I’ve only met one diplomat who truly followed this lifestyle.
Living by himself, he shared he only needed two sets of flatware. One for him, and one for the occasional guest, usually a family member who wished to see his current posting or a lady he’s dating. He preferred hosting at restaurants for much less of a hassle. He had seven, well-chosen suits, a strict dry cleaning routine, and refused to buy souvenirs at his postings. “I take photos of the place and store it in my hard drive instead,” he said over lunch with a couple of journalists who ended up asking about his life after the political questions were over and done with. This was about a decade ago, before Marie Kondo gained a huge following then immediately lost me when she told people to get rid of their books.
His life sounded easy but something I knew would be quite an adjustment for me who owned way too many lipsticks and books. Clothes are also a not-so-guilty pleasure. Oh how nice would it be to simplify life but I also feel like I would lose a lot of the things that make it more gratifying!
“You don’t have to be a minimalist with everything,” he said as the conversation progressed with much interest in his ways. “I admit I have way too many books and they make up most of my shipment. This is why I simplify other aspects of my life.”
It sounds like having a grasp on what to prioritize is key. I was faced with this problem yet again as I was packing for a trip. Half work and half leisure, I will be gone for more than two weeks with a baggage allowance of 23 kilos. Traveling in the dead of winter, it felt criminal to discard clothing off my pile and pick what’s only truly essential. I spent most of my time complaining until another diplomat—female this time—told me she could fit everything in a carry-on for such a trip.
With a bit of forced optimism, I challenged myself to leave Manila with only 15 kilos. I need to make room for the main thing I need to procure while traveling—cheese.
We attach memories and emotions to physical objects to make them more tangible and that’s not always a bad thing.
This whole thing got me thinking about how much baggage we accumulate in life and how much of it do we really need to live. You see, when we first left Manila for my husband’s first posting, we arrived in Kuala Lumpur with a suitcase each and a small box for unaccompanied baggage containing a couple of my favorite books. I left the rest at my grandparents’. From Malaysia, we moved to Germany, selling most of our furniture and a lot of clothes yet somehow, we still moved with more things. A suitcase each, four boxes checked in, and unaccompanied baggage which was heavier than me. From Berlin to Manila, we finally availed of the container where we had a grand total of 117 boxes. That’s not much compared to bigger families and most of it was still books and German porcelain from a friend’s mother.
To this day, I still don’t feel like I own a lot of things yet our moving record betrays me. All these years, I’ve been accumulating literal baggage. Some are necessary while others admittedly aren’t, but they’re either fun, pretty, or kept out of force of habit. It made me think of how much emotion we attach to things and how this isn’t the only type of baggage we carry around with us. Emotional and psychological baggage also gets accumulated through the years, from past trauma, regret, and even unresolved issues. They’re the types of baggage that don’t affect the scales but can be heavy enough to make it difficult to move forward, holding us back from reaching our full potential.
I looked at my pile. Sitting on top of my trunk was a sweater I wore the last time I met with my friends in Berlin. There was also the first coat my dad bought for me while walking along Kurfürstendamm, as well as the socks I wore in Warsaw the time my suede boots got wet and I almost got frostbite. Some memories are recalled quite fondly but there are also some that are quite traumatic, you’d rather forget them.
I remember a friend who gave me a skirt and how I immediately got rid of it the same week that friendship went kaput. There was something so liberating about such a simple gesture. We attach memories and emotions to physical objects to make them more tangible and that’s not always a bad thing. Getting over failed relationships isn’t as simple as giving a skirt away but such a symbolic gesture can sometimes be the first step. On the flip side, I’ve also held on to mementos that reminded me of great things—the good kind of emotional baggage. To lessen their weight, I feel, is to be comfortable with them. This, while learning to handle them gracefully before eventually letting go of what no longer serves us and being at peace with it.
On worldly possessions, I know I’m a long way from only having two sets of flatware or having just a week’s worth of clothes at a time. I don’t think I want that, even. Editing the contents of my baggage, however, is a skill I intend to get better at. And it’s not only when I have to deal with weight limits.