There is a void in our lives. If we continue living with this void, it will lead to unprecedented misery and corporeal decay.
Companies brilliantly convince us this is so. It’s how they convince us to buy their things.
I’ve been paying more attention to car commercials lately. The typical car commercial portrays a happy couple or family driving across a natural landscape, over terrain they never could have otherwise accessed. Text implies that to purchase this vehicle would be a steal. Video hints that this vehicle is a key that can unlock unprecedented freedom. A corporation is practically giving it away.
Buy me and you unshackle the chains that render you inert.
Drive me and leave behind the misery of a life stuck in one place.
But what is the reality?
Car registration at the DMV.
Thousands of dollars in car insurance, an expense not ending for as long as the vehicle is “yours.”
Thousands of dollars in gas, an expense not ending for as long as the vehicle is “yours.”
Thousands of dollars in maintenance, accumulating like a snowball rolling downhill for as long as the vehicle is “yours.”
We want it shiny. We want it new. Yet a steady degradation and rusting inflicts all shiny new things unless one is willing to spend a fortune to fight Father Time and slow down the inevitable destruction that all things come to. Botox for the face and for the car. Injections for the lips and for the tires.
The drain is unending unless one finds another shiny new object to replace the current one.
And yet the voices in our heads whisper: Buy me. You need me. I’m the last thing you’ll ever need.
“The things you own end up owning you.” -Tyler Durden
The lack oozes and burns into every pore of our existence.
Your frizzy hair makes you unattractive, but this special shampoo will save you.
Your male pattern baldness makes you look as pathetic as Gollum, but this Rogaine will save you.
Your pectoral muscles are flat and flimsy and your bench press sucks, but this protein powder will make your pecs adequate.
This tethers the puchaser to the shampoo bottle, the rogaine, and the protein shake. If a product depletes, the void, a disgusting tumor that will twist and contort all things beautiful, will grow. And if the void grows, what then? Death?
I want to embrace my aging rather than rely on a product to fight it. I want to jump into my own void.
I want to climb out of the consumerist rabbit hole that leads to a red queen I cannot reconcile with.
I do get value out of my material things and ironically, this blog will detail a lot of the material things I get value from. But I aim to only use what I find legitimate value in, and to find the best material possible to suit that need. That is why I consider myself a “maximalist.” I strive to maximize my output, but to do so efficiently. I have to be honest with myself. I am not necessarily a minimalist.
I am not perfect. I have bought things I don’t need and will do so again in the future. But I aim to separate my own intention from the intention imposed on me by external forces. I aim to embrace my materials while avoiding an emotional attachment to them. It’s not an easy balance. I don’t yet know if it’s even possible, but I will explore it.
I am incomplete. Therefore I am complete.