"Bare" Necessities

Necessity seemed like a plain vanilla flavored word until I stopped one day and asked myself what I couldn’t do without in this life I had created for myself. As I mentally worked up a list of those things I could not do without, I quickly became humbled by my many extravagances. I had risen so far above the “bare necessities” that I started to get dizzy when I stopped for a moment to look down.

Strange that “look down” came to mind when I my thoughts led me back to the poverty of my youth. Recalling those moments when my survival from paycheck to paycheck was in question, it brought back the fears this caused me, too. Now it seems I often turn my nose up and “look down” at things I had once upon a time been thankful to have. Realizing I was losing touch, I vowed to reexamine my needs and see if how I am filling them now has changed my definition of a necessity. It was time to regain my perspective.

The human thought process can sometime be thought of as a pot of soup set on the stove to slowly come to a boil. Then we turn the heat down a little and let the flavors co-mingle until something rises to the surface and catches our eye, begging to be tasted. As I worked to conjure up my thoughts about what I thought were basic necessities, I began to see what I had put in my “soup.”

At my age the money in my savings and retirement accounts are now a necessity, but it was not always so. There was a time when every penny was counted twice before it was spent. Now, food is never farther away than the fridge or the pantry, and chocolate has become a necessity. Now I can taste just a hint of dark chocolate in my “soup.” I wonder. Is this a good thing? Have I lost my appreciation for macaroni and cheese and hamburger, and instead require Italian pasta and steak?

Fashion has elevated my clothing to the extreme of my sense of modesty, while at the same time costing me more for even less fabric. Expensive vehicles have replaced comfortable walking shoes, and pedestrians and bicyclists are seen as moving targets. My lumpy futon has be replaced long ago by a space age foam mattress, and my pine board and cinder-block bookshelves were passed on to my children because everyone should own one at least once.

As my “soup” begins to thicken I begin to see all the things I have added to spice my life up a little and make it more palatable. As they rise to the surface I notice that a lot of them have a “used only once” tag on them, and they quickly sink out of sight to the bottom of the pot. The problem with soup is that if you over season it you have to live with the results. Good luck getting those two tablespoons of chili powder back out.

Getting back to the whole point of this exercise, which is adding wisdom to our decisions as to what we consider to be a necessity. After all, this soup I have created is not the main course, and it’s certainly not going to be my desert. At least I am no longer so naïve as to think that I can’t dump out a pot of awful tasting soup and start over.  Funny! Now I remember a few times when I had no other choice but to eat the crow I had put in there.

 
Longing for a plain glass of water to wash the last spoonful down, I’m beginning to see that most of the things in my life right now are necessities by choice and barely resemble the original “bare” ones. I need to start being more selective as to what I put in my “soup.” There is a limit as to how many times I can dump out the pot and start over from scratch.

 

p.s. I miss the socks and underwear I used to get for Christmas from my parents. I'm putting those items back on my shopping list this year for my "adult" children. It's time to get serious about what necessities are. Getting those things from someone who loves you makes them even better than anything else you might put in your Christmas "soup."