"What you possess, possesses you"

- Zen proverb

I recently came across a video titled "I've miniaturised all my material possessions". Before even clicking the video, I felt an overwhelming sense of negative emotion thinking that if I tried that, it would take me an eternity. I own far too much. I looked at my overflowing closet. I get exhausted when I try to organise it, yet I often find nothing to wear. I realised; this is exactly the problem. Possession has a funny way of making us feel both burdened and empty at the same time.

When we own something, it gives us the illusion of control. We think that if something is ours, we understand it, we can keep it safe and enjoy it. But the truth is, the more we accumulate the less we notice. The shirt I kept for months as an "inspiration" that I will wear when I have my "dream body" doesn't really inspire me, it just takes up space. True appreciation is about attention and care, it's not about possessing. And yet somehow, we try to keep sunlight in a jar, as if having it, will make it ours.

I shared a room with my sister, who is a hoarder in the truest sense. Our room was a landscape where you wouldn't have a place to rest your eyes on. Scrapes from packaging, old tickets, random thrifted clothes, even interesting objects she found on the streets ended up in our place. She buys things she never uses, never has a chance to take care of. I asked her once why she buys so much. She replied, "It awes me how creative humans are. The sheer capability to create such beautiful things. To appreciate it, I must buy it." I understood her awe, I felt it myself. The impulse to celebrate beauty, to somehow "hold" a moment is irresistible.

Perhaps, the most liberating insight is this, you can love something without taking it. You can admire a rainy day, a painting and even a person without needing to possess it. To hold lightly is to engage fully, notice deeply and to treasure the fleeting nature of life. It's a lesson in attentiveness. We must recognise that beauty and value exist beyond our control.

But still, watching her I can also see the tension. She got married recently, and guess what, she couldn't take one-fourth of the stuff with her when she left. Her treasures, once objects of wonder, became just more clutter, more things to move, sort and maintain. Possession can be both homage and burden.

Real appreciation is about care. It requires intention and space. If you own too many things, care becomes impossible. Minimalism isn't deprivation, it means to create space to truly engage with that matter. One well-loved scarf can hold more meaning than twenty you never touch. When I think about our room and my closet, I realise the stuff isn't the problem, it's how we relate to it. We confuse accumulation with connection. 

My brother leaving for abroad taught me this lesson more harshly.  When he left, I wondered how little we can truly carry with us. So many things can be replaced or left behind. Our relationship with objects often mirrors our relationship with people. Those who discard things easily may do the same with people. Those who mend and care show patience and empathy. Consumer culture teaches disposability, in products and in love. Even when we can't call something ours, caring deeply is a skill we carry into every connection.

 I have noticed that moments of true awe are rarely tied to possession. The ocean is more beautiful when I can't have it in a jar. A sunset is more moving when I know it will disappear by nightfall. Even the books I borrowed from the library often feel more magical before they are mine. The act of holding sometimes diminishes the sense of wonder. My sister experiences this in a different way, she captures things physically, and she hopes to anchor the beauty that captivated her. But in doing so, she carries the weight of everything she has ever admired.

Perhaps, the most liberating insight is this, you can love something without taking it. You can admire a rainy day, a painting and even a person without needing to possess it. To hold lightly is to engage fully, notice deeply and to treasure the fleeting nature of life. It's a lesson in attentiveness. We must recognise that beauty and value exist beyond our control.

So maybe, the truest possession is not what we buy. It lies in the gentleness with which we hold what will one day leave. When I finally stepped back from my closet, exhausted from yet another reorganisation, I understood how I had forgotten to appreciate what I already have without needing to own more.

One day, our possessions will outlive our need for them. But the care we had for them will remain as proof that we noticed beauty, held it kindly even if it was for a moment. Perhaps in that holding lightly there is freedom. The freedom is to see beauty without claiming it and to love without needing to possess it. Maybe appreciation was never about having more but holding less and loving deeply.

To appreciate is to care. The rest is just clutter.

Sazida Nahrin Auhona is an undergrad student who lives somewhere between art, literature, and philosophy. She can be reached at [email protected]

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