I haven’t quite figured out what it is that drives humans toward wanting new things. Never have I come across a dog who found disfavor with its bowl because it was slightly chipped or stained. Nor have I seen a bird up and vacate its nest because the view was better from that tree. Taking it one step further, babies don’t wail louder if the blanket you swaddle them in isn’t made of cashmere or Egyptian silk. So long as the provision meets the need, all the above are content and happy. This leads me to believe that wanting new things is a learned behavior, stemming perhaps from boredom, envy, and the desire to belong. Pinterest has become a form of masochistic rehabilitation. Takes no more than a few seconds of browsing before the urge is instigated.
These two pictures best sum up how I feel about the matter:
Truly, I don’t think there is anything wrong with buying and owning nice things. In the post I wrote — “Mrs. Frugal Parsimonious” — a few months back, I mentioned that there remains to be a few areas where cinching is not an option; this includes organic meats and any sort of skin/haircare product. There is such a thing as a quality product, and I have no problem shelling out the big bucks for that which falls under caliber. What I dislike, however, is that insatiable hunger that abounds in the face of ennui. Things — lovely, useful, or enjoyable as they are — do not make me happy. If they do, it’s but for a fleeting, transitory moment. And then the feeling disappears and I’m left needing something new again.
Ignoring this problem is not an option either. While I firmly believe in the value of self-discipline and mastering the philosophy of appreciating something without owning it, there is a caveat. It is my opinion perpetual and implacable self-denial breeds a resentful, covetous, malcontent person. At least that’s what happens to Cara. Subsequently, This Little Light takes a spill toward aphotic gloom.
All my life, I’ve been lauded for my prodigious wealth of common-sense. Growing up I was not a beauty, nor was I particularly revered for my athleticism or intelligence. What I did have, in surplus, was a good head on my shoulders. Luckily that head filled up with some edjamacation and doesn’t look half bad after attended to with a little blush and lip-gloss. But truth be told, it’s my common-sense I value more than anything else. It’s like wearing armor; a problem ensues and, if not requiring prayer, I seek to go about solving the issue with logic and reason — usually. A sensitive girl, no doubt, occasionally my emotions trump rational, but that’s something else altogether.
What I do to satiate this “need” for something new is capitulate to it.
Thursday is normally my day off from writing. Today, however, my car is in the shop and I’m stranded at home. A quotidian Thursday consists of a few imperative activities: a leisurely morning spent over coffee, lighting a fragrant candle while carefully applying make-up (there is something to be said for taking pride in the small things.), followed by several stops in the nearby vicinity; one of which is nearly almost always a thrift-store. Some may argue that the items lining the shelves and queue’d along the racks are not “new”, but I would beg to disagree. They are, most certainly, new to me.
I might have mentioned once or twice my affinity for blue glass? I collect jars, bottles, vases, etc… any knick-knack, really, lustrous in patina, and azure, cerulean, turquoise, viridian (for you, dear Meredith) or beryl in color. Take a look at this sweet little jar I found. She had seen better days when I placed her gingerly in my cart, her bulbous body covered in muck and filth, sealed up shut, reticent and refusing to say a word about anything. We became fast friends, however, and I introduced to an entire neighborhood of amiable baubles and trinkets. Still a bit shy about her appearance, I understood what must be done. And after some coaxing and solemn oaths not to go overboard, she allowed me to perform my most favorite girlhood pastime: a makeover.
First, though, “the before” pictures.
I finally got her to open up a little . . . a little levity for you.
Drum roll please . . .
Well just look at her shimmer and sparkle!
Blucinda (I named her, of course) and I decided to try out a few potential partnerships.
Barrett holder, perhaps?
Or how about a candy corral?
No matter Blucinda’s fate, she will have a place in my home. And for $1.25, I think we are both rather happy about it.
Have a blessed day, my friends!