George Carlin, on “stuff”

Who can’t relate to this? I often think of what it must be like for ETs, looking at us humans down here, so focused on stuff, on getting, keeping, and passing stuff back and forth with our hands. As if that’s what life’s about. Seldom do we even look up! Seldom do we even meaningfully look at each other! — unless that other happens to be dressed in the “right stuff”, or we know that they “have” lots of stuff that we wish we had or want from them.

For awhile there, I said to hell with all that. Shape-shifted into a gypsy and lived, by choice, in my car with hardly any stuff. Then I graduated to a 20-foot diameter yurt. Eighteen years later, I moved to a 1300 square foot house, and, wouldn’t you know, bought stuff to fill it! . . . That was ten years ago. Seven years later I started to reverse the trend. Now I rarely buy anything but food (and a few books, which I should just borrow from the library instead). I give lots of stuff away. But geez, the process is so slow! I often dream of just getting up and walking away.

My stuff keeps me grounded. Keeps me here. Or it used to. Now I realize: the more I learn how to grow real stuff from the Earth, the more grounded I feel, and the less of the other stuff I need around me.

Pachamama! Earth is my mother.

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