In sorting out my surplus belongings and noting the emotional silt that stirs up in the pond of my being, I realise that I am operating under two quite separate belief systems that don't harmonise with each other whatsoever. One has developed from my own thinking and the other I inherited.
My own belief system says that life is flow — death is static (that's a Taoist principle). I believe in the provision of grace, and in sharing and de-monetising and keeping the goods and benefits of this life moving so everyone gets a turn. I believe our mistakes are the way we learn and grow. I believe that amounts of money are only numbers and don't matter very much. As a consequence, I have developed an easy-come-easy-go approach to belongings, seeing payments for possessions more as rental than purchase. I pay to wear this for a while, and when it no longer feels right I pass it on — preferably still in tip-top condition so someone else can be pleased to have it, or else so worn out it must be thrown away.
But then I see that I have a quite different belief system open and running, that came from my mother and has been reinforced by the church and by various mentors and associates: that frugality is a most prized virtue, that one should get a purchase right and hang onto it forever, that one should be stable in every respect so that clothes go on fitting and last and last and last.
The result of this is that my practice, of acquiring and chucking so at any given time I travel light but a lot of stuff passes through my life, is a result of my developed belief system but arouses deep shame in me because of the one I inherited.
I have no conclusions in terms of life lessons to draw from this. I just notice it and think, "Oh, right. What to do about that, then? No idea."
And today I am moving on a floral t-shirt and a pair of blue trousers. Why? Because the blue is too insistent for me and annoys my eye every time I wear them, and the t-shirt has a little placket with buttons that weight it so it sags on my habitually concave chest (round-shouldered — a chronic huncher and stooper).
What am I like. Oh, dear. Never mind. Off they go.