Stuff. We do seem to like it. And collect it. And move it around. And around again and again someplace else. Hopefully in the process we get more enjoyment from it than it costs. Both to the wallet and to our sense of freedom. Tied down to all that stuff. Worried something will happen to it.
It’s interesting to look at the origin of the word. Stuff came from the Anglo-French estuffes for goods, from estuffer meaning to fill in (as with rubble). And we sure fill our lives with stuff. And just how much of it becomes rubble? Tracing the word’s etymology further, there’s the Old High German stopfon, that in turn came from the Vulgar Latin stuppare. Meaning? To stop up. How appropriate. We stuff (aka stop up) our lives with stuff, stopping it up.
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Still, some stuff can be a good thing. Other stuff, like all that plastic stuff we use indiscriminately, not so much. But even the so called good stuff we enjoy, that we use with thought and dispose of responsibly, can become bad. Its positive value lost to us, if we let it rule our lives. If we’re more concerned with caring for our stuff, than caring for ourselves.
Better to live with our stuff, get pleasure from it, but not feel imprisoned by it. By being willing to let it go, we are freer to enjoy having it. And at the end of the day, that’s what we’ll have to do anyway. Let it all go. So to all that stuff I say, stuff it.
