When Less Becomes More

I spent much of my twenties and thirties figuring out how to get more stuff. Shopping was one of my favorite forms of recreation back then. I loved snagging bargains on things like clothes and accessories, furniture, antiques, and decorative do-dads for the house.

Then something happened.

I hit my mid-forties. Acquiring more things suddenly lost much of its appeal. The desire for space and order became greater than the quest for more things. I've never enjoyed dusting. I like it even less now. How many sets of dishes can I really enjoy? How many black sweaters does one person need? Will a new kitchen gadget prompt me to be a better cook?

These days I find myself easily passing up items that, in the recent past, I would have coveted, paid for, and hauled to my house. Oh non-materialistic, virtuous me! I could easily hurt myself patting my own back at my new- found concentration on what really matters in life.

Like just-released music, grocery-store flowers for my table, books by my favorite authors, and Starbuck's coffee three times a week. Can't do with out my on-my-way-to-work lattes, now can I?

The uncomfortable truth is I'm not as untied to aquiring stuff as I'd like to believe of myself. I've traded old desires for new ones.

Even though I already really and truly have more than enough