Ma Coat, Ma Hat, Ma Gandhi

It is said that one of the world's most influential philosophical and political figures of all time, had in his possession at the time of his death only a few meagre items. Other than his personal effects--spectacles, a loincloth or two--he "owned" only his small, low writing desk, pens and papers. Yet Mahatma Gandhi, father of nonviolent resistance, was to move mountains as India's leader and an inspiration to Martin Luther King's social preachings. His spartan existence begs the question of how many things we need to acquire in order to feel fulfilled.

Acquisitiveness is a disease nearly all of us carry most of our lives, and Americans, in particular, have this malady in abundance. We each pursue our American Dream in our own way, but acquiring (and parading our trophies) more and more things in a constant stream of purchases seems a vital part of it. And why shouldn't we? In this amazing land of unlimited personal opportunity and availability of a seemingly infinite supply of new products and gadgets, we get and spend, get and spend, and get some more.

I'm not suggesting there's anything wrong with acquisitiveness per se. We all admire those who have become materially successful--especially if they share their wealth with others, but there aren't many Gandhi's among us, happy with only "a few nice things." To criticize acquisitiveness, which it seems has become almost synonymous with our Constitutionally guaranteed right to pursue our happiness in our own way, might even question patriotism. If everyone in this society were a Gandhi, consider the economic collapse as the stores would close, the factories stop making so many things, and most jobs would be lost--in short, without our acquisitiveness, we couldn't sustain our lives as we know them. But given Gandhi's life and legacy, it is interesting to consider what we really need.

The results of our constant acquisition are that we gorge ourselves externally, in the same way that we seem to gorge our palates internally, and have nowhere to put all our stuff. Our living space has grown from an average 1,500 square feet residence of our parents to an average 2,500 square feet, though the size of our families has shrunk, largely due to the need for more places to put all our stuff. And without enough space in the house and the closets, we take over the spare rooms, the garage, the attic, the basement, and keep on going by getting sheds to store more stuff. Out paths inside the house are shrinking from clutter and basically crowding us out! Yet still we are loathe to part with one item we "own." We might need it someday. The children might want it. It always meant so much to us sentimentally. It's still perfectly good. Our excuses are always ready and sufficient to overcome our occasional remorse for our material obsessions. America is one of the few societies in the world to spawn an entire industry of storage facilities that have sprung up in every state, just to have someplace to handle the overflow of our stuff.

The tendency to create clutter, interestingly presented in last December's issue of the AARP's magazine Modern Maturity, may be in part hereditary. But it's probably more sociological. Our fast-paced lives and limited interaction with family, friends, and neighbors may contribute to our need to acquire more material things, to reassure ourselves that we've got something to show for our efforts, because we can see and touch our "trophies." And we don't let go of anything, because it represents a sense of continuity of who we are, as we bring the past--as much as we can drag of it--with us into the present. Perhaps it gives us as well a sense of control, because let's face it, without our "stuff" we have no idea who we are.

But when we confront who we are independently of our possessions, our trophies, our bank balances and our net material worth, we can begin to see those things that really are important, and they're within us, not without. Our selves, our health, our values, our relationships, our friendships, our characters and honor, our choices and experiences, our service to others, our faith and our loyalties--those things Gandhi had and didn't need much else.