In defense of the trinket and tactile memory

Photo by Ksenia Chernaya from Pexels

Although a bit of a latecomer to the minimalist, de-cluttering trend, I've been trying to clean out "junk" and simplify my surroundings. I've read numerous blogs with advice about how to do this. Mostly they all say similar things. I won't rehash those here (but for a list of minimalist blogs, see here).

In general it's useful advice -- especially advice on how to let go of sentimental things. However, I'm beginning to wonder if minimalists are, well, different in their sensory experience of the world.

In particular, I wonder whether a photograph of a trinket I picked up in say, Bolivia, will stimulate the same depth of emotional reverie that holding the trinket does. The tactile experience of touch seems far under-appreciated by those advisors urging us to take photos of sentimental things.

Marie Kondo encourages us to eliminate everything that doesn't spark joy. This is useful for reducing actual clutter and excess "stuff" -- but not for dealing with sentimental items. I don't actually want everything to spark joy, anyway. Some memories are sad or even painful. These memories are also the ones that remind me I'm alive, remind me I'm human. [Queue up the Goo Goo Dolls' classic hit...]

Of course there's no need to use a thought experiment or my imagination. I could simply take photos and see whether they suffice to stir the same kind of experiential recollection that the physical item itself does... But I suspect that unless I accompany the photograph with additional information -- perhaps some text or narrative to describe the context of the object -- some richness of detail will be lost. 

I'm not talking about documenting some richness of detail about a cute dress I wore once to work and now doesn't fit me anymore. I'm talking about a small curio I may have bought in an indigenous village while wandering with a fellow traveler. Feeling a bit cold and chewing on coca leaves... ah, yes, those coca leaves! Purchased in liter-sized bags and "activated" with bicarbonate pieces...

Maybe I don't need the tactile element to trigger these rich memories. But I probably do need the kind of contemplative pause that can come when rummaging through an old box of trinkets. I could treat photos with same degree of contemplation. And pray I do not lose my sight.

For now, as long as my trinkets don't overwhelm my space like a hoader's collection, I think I'll hold on to them -- figuratively and literally.