A Work in Progress

My family is not like me. I’m a full-blown minimalist in all areas, and they’d rather wallow in their belongings like pigs in a pen. Rude? Perhaps. Maybe equating them to swine isn’t the kindest. Although, I do love bacon. But having been where they are, this might be the best way to describe it. Their stuff makes them happy, and they’re content to be surrounded by the excess of them. In essence, they don’t own their things… their things own them.  I’m still working on this concept too. It’s hard to see how much our stuff controls us. I know this (and can say this in love) because I was exactly like them a few years ago. I give them a lot of empathy in this area because it takes time to see the truth of our habits, particularly one that doesn’t seem like a habit but something that is a part of us all. Aren’t we supposed to need things? Don’t we use all that we have? Don’t we need more to exist and have a perfectly normal life? I used to think this. But these days, my mind has shifted t