Today I’ve been thinking about power. Specifically I’ve been thinking about the fact that no physical object has any power whatsoever except for the power we give it. For example, recently I attended a show and noticed two (I’m assuming) homosexuals who were wearing rhinestone brooches, one on his sweater, the other on his jacket. Well, as someone who loves a good button, I thought this was absolutely fabulous. Really taking things to the next level. Seriously, having spent my entire life only seeing females wear brooches, I was mesmerized, not only by these men’s courage, but also by their creativity. I thought, You go. Fuck gender rules.

Getting back to the idea of power, I’d like to be clear–these men and their brooches were only enchanting to me because either on a conscious or unconscious level I decided they were special, unique, and attractive. That is, anyone else–maybe you–wouldn’t have even noticed. Or if you did you might have thought, That’s stupid, That’s gay, or I would never. All the while we would have been staring at the same shiny pieces of jewelry, which, by the way, can’t DO anything other than sit there and sparkle. This is what I mean by objects having no inherent power or value. Even if a hundred people or the entire world agreed–THESE are beautiful brooches–they’re just material objects.

This morning I saw my therapist and casually mentioned “the brooch-wearing homos” (my therapist and I aren’t politically correct with each other), and she said, “I used to have a male client who wore a different brooch with every outfit, and it was stunning.” Encouraged, and despite the above-stated facts about things just being things, after therapy I went brooch shopping. (Things I’d never thought I’d say.) Well, I ended up at an antique store with hundreds and hundreds of vintage and newly handcrafted brooches. And whereas I’ll spare you my feelings of overwhelm (how you women–and drag queens–afford all your accessories, I’ll never know), I will say that I ended up buying three brooches, one of which (a fleur-de-lis) I proudly wore for the rest of the day.

Again, although I went “right to” this particular pin, there have obviously been dozens if not hundreds of shoppers who thought nothing of it. I’m sure others picked it up and thought, I wouldn’t pay $14 for that! And yet I thought it was perfect–a steal–because it matches the fleur-de-lis on my favorite vintage sweater and includes my favorite color, blue. But is it INNATELY beautiful and stunning?

Only because I think it is.

Only because I’ve given it power.

Having sold most of my worldly possessions at an estate sale, I’m highly aware that simply because I value something doesn’t mean anyone else does. Oh my god, I had antique chairs I paid over a hundred dollars for that sold for twenty. Fuck it, I eventually thought. It’s only stuff. It’s only money.

What I learned from my estate sale is that, although I occasionally miss some of what I sold, I didn’t and don’t NEED any of it. I look around my room now at what’s left and what I’ve acquired since, and I don’t need any of it either. Sure, it’s nice to have a comfortable bed, warm clothes, and plenty of books to read. I love my framed artwork, my magnet collection, and my three brooches. I think they’re pretty, fun. But do I require these object to be happy, to live a full life?

Let me be clear–I do not.

Now, don’t go getting the idea that I’m a monk who’s taken a vow of poverty. Picture that! A brooch-wearing monk. No, I clearly enjoy pretty things and shiny objects. Several weeks ago I lost one of my favorite rings, and tonight while I was rearranging my jewelry tray to accommodate my brooches spent over half an hour trying to remember where I lost it (to no avail). So even though I’m clear that my ring (which obviously isn’t mine anymore, if it ever was) only has meaning because I think it does, I still find it hard to let go. This is the thing with letting go. Sometimes you have to do it over and over again. As Madonna so rightly stated, we are living in a material world.

It’s easy to get attached.

This evening I returned an item of clothing that was too small to TJ Maxx and some lightbulbs that were too bright to Walmart. Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen these places. They were jam-packed with Christmas shoppers. And whereas–sure–I got caught up in both places looking at “all the pretty things,” I also realized the ridiculousness of it all. What I mean is that most of us THINK we need more stuff when we have SO MUCH already. We rush around, we push people over, and we buy, buy, buy. But standing there in the midst of it all, I thought, The stuff’s not making us buy it, we’re doing that. We’re breaking our backs to have things that will end up at consignment shops when we die. (Your mother’s antique brooch will end up on a forty-year-old gay man.) Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself that even though I was surrounded by a warehouse full of shiny objects, I didn’t NEED any of it–to feel love in my heart, to be kind to another, to feel good about myself.

Said succinctly, things can’t make you feel good about you. Only you have that power.