Hold loosely to material possessions and things that ultimately do not matter. Do not miss out by placing importance on things instead of people. Enjoy what you have but certainly do not let your wealth (or lack of) define who you are.
I am not sure what came over me. A strong fit of materialism. Perhaps. Or pure greed. I still can't rationalize it. But I got attached to this fake leather jacket, which now hangs like a lifeless ostrich in my wardrobe, even before I owned it.
More of most things without restraint, another five minutes wrestling, some more time playing with Lego, the chocolate bar at the checkout, a toy moments after Christmas and birthdays pass. At the moment though, the big thing is, MORE BREAKFAST!
Acknowledging the design of the Christmas jumper creates a shared experience of festive consumerism, allowing the jumper to supersede the material and enter the intangible and quasi-sanctified realm of celebration. This new hyperreality is a joyous state that plain knitwear is simply incapable of rendering.
How much do we need? Truly need? Society tells us we need incredibly more than we do and they have to, it creates the economy that we live in. However, study after study and story after story proves we benefit from owning so much less.
As a parent of children who are fortunate to live in comfortable circumstances, I don't want to have to cancel Christmas or deprive them of the things they want. I don't want to make them feel guilty for having a better life than the many less fortunate children in the world. At the same time, I do want them to know that not everyone in the world enjoys the same level of comfort and security as they do.
In my view, acquisitiveness is best understood in psychological terms. Our mad materialism is partly a reaction to inner discontent. As human beings' it's normal for us to experience an underlying 'psychological discord', caused by the incessant chattering of our minds, which creates a disturbance inside us, and often triggers negative thoughts.
To me the most important thing you create is arguably your own life. When we talk about a creation we mean something which is unique, something which is purposeful and meaningful; something which is large and substantial.
I'm 59, the eldest of four siblings, but have no partner and no children. A sense of inadequacy grows: what can I leave my nephews and nieces, and their children? I don't mean memories; I mean, what that is tangible and lasting, that I can equitably share among them? It's like feeling a phantom limb, a shadowy disconnect with future generations that I so ache to put right.
I, like many other agnostic young people living in the spiritual void of modern Britain, flirt with the idea of spirituality. As a spiritual dilettante, I reluctantly stretch through the odd yoga class or attempt to silence the endless flow of internal chatter using occasional meditation.