Today I’ve been thinking about stuff. I’ll explain. This morning–well, this afternoon–I lay in bed, quite frankly, feeling like crap, trying to go back to sleep. Alas, I couldn’t and, after I could scroll through Facebook no longer, finally succumbed to looking around my room–at my lamps, my books, my pictures. Earlier this week I wrote about how everything is falling apart, so I started thinking about how imperfect everything I own is. This lamp has a chip in it, that book’s pages are stained, that frame’s held together with super glue, and so on. My conclusion being that everything in life is broken.

Think about that.

If you own something that isn’t broken, either you’re not looking close enough or enough time hasn’t passed. Meaning everything breaks (wears out, fades, dies) eventually. In the blog about everything falling apart I used the phrase “smoke and mirrors,” and this is what I meant. We can try to hide the fact that everything is dissolving before our eyes (per the second law of thermodynamics) by turning the crack in the vase so that no one can see it, but that won’t change the fact that it’s there.

Recently I had a friend tell me that their mother (God rest her soul) bought “only the best.” And whereas I have high standards when shopping and adore pretty things and aesthetically pleasing objects, it really hit me this morning that even the best objects come with an expiration date. Because someone’s going to drop it or accidentally put it in the clothes washer. Or–God forbid–a tornado will carry it away. Once I heard a spiritual story about a man who had a heart attack and stopped breathing but was resuscitated by a doctor. People told the doctor, “You saved him from dying!” But the doctor, a mystic of sorts, said, “No one can be saved from dying. All I did was postpone his death.” This is what I mean by all things–including us–having an expiration date.

Just a moment ago I picked up a coffee cup and am now thinking of it as a mirage, a phantasm, not because the cup’s not real or because it’s not there anymore, but because it soon enough won’t be. That’s the deal, we spend so much time shopping for and arranging things just so, and yet–in the twinkling of an eye–it can all be gone.

In the twinkling of an eye, it will be.

Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with shopping for and arranging things just so. My room is full of pretty things and aesthetically pleasing objects, and you’d better believe everything is in its proper place. But more and more having things just so is a PREFERENCE for me, not a HAVE TO. That’s when we start getting into trouble, when everything MUST be a certain way–perfect, only the best–in order for us to be happy or satisfied. (I’m thinking of some neat-freaks I knew who, whenever they left home, insisted on vacuuming themselves out the door.) That was something else I thought about this morning while looking around my room. I went object by object and asked myself WHY I liked it, what I thought it did for me. And whereas it would take too long to go through all the reasons and answers, suffice it to say that most the things I like 1) remind me of pleasant time, 2) inspire me in some say, or 3) make me feel important (smart, handsome, hip, nifty) for owning them.

Like, wasn’t I clever for buying this?

Along these lines, I concluded that more often than not our material possessions are SYMBOLS. Granted, sometimes a doorknob is just a doorknob, but when something–let’s say a fancy, gold-plated doorknob–exists for us not just for its intended function but also to convey meaning (I have so much money that even my doorknobs are rich), well, now we’re talking about MEANING. Meaning that we’ve given to something either individually (I’m currently over the moon about brooches but know most people don’t give a shit, although just tonight Vogue said brooches were the new men’s fashion trend) or as a society (conversely, most anyone would be over the moon about a nice house, a luxury car, or season tickets to see their favorite sports team).

Again, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having ANY of this stuff. One the contrary, since everything is fading, enjoy the hell out of it while you can. This being said, I do think it’s worthwhile to examine how you use your stuff symbolically. For example, if a souvenir reminds you of a lovely vacation and gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling, super. That’s what it’s supposed to do. But if the thought of someone stealing your souvenir gives you anxiety, then you’ve given more POWER to the souvenir than any physical object is capable of containing. That is, you’ve convinced yourself that the THING is generating your warm, fuzzy feeling, when–in fact–it’s you that’s doing that. Think about it. If a brooch can send me over the moon and yet have NO EFFECT on you, then the brooch isn’t doing it, I am.

So this is what I’d suggest keeping in mind the next time you go shopping or start to get excited about any material do-dad. First, remember that you’re looking at a mirage, something that will eventually disappear. Either it will, or you will. Second, know that in addition to looking at a mirage, you’re looking at a symbol. Ask yourself, “What does this represent to me?” If the answer is, “This doorknob will impress my neighbors and make me feel better about myself,” consider that your value and self-worth come from the inside, not the outside. Lastly, remember that things only have the power we give them–and that nothing (no thing) can affect your mood, value, or worth without your permission. Think, Who sends me over the moon? I do.