The Good Stuff
When we moved to Japan, we left a lot behind. Many items ended up saved in a storage unit, hopefully to be reclaimed as we get more settled here, or at some future down the road. As I wrote before, I realized the majority of things we’d accumulated weren't really all that important, and I felt comfortable letting go of. But some items sting.
There was the midi keyboard I used to take an electronic music production course, and after swore I’d get back to it. Somehow, I never had time. There were the go board and stones I bought and maintained after a couple of trips to the Chicago go club, but I put off playing with more until I’d have more time.
It felt good to sell as much as possible of what we knew we wouldn’t store to friends and family. Some followed up with images of them enjoying our former items, giving them the care I only rarely found time to. There was only so much we could store, and much we had to get rid of, but knowing something I had once owned was going to be enjoyed was nice.
What was the point? What moment was I saving them for? I guess I’ll never know.
Still, items slipped through the cracks. I purchased some nice green tea from Japan, alongside a teapot and a few small tea cups. I used the teacups often; their delicate pine-needle design always called to me. The teapot also got a good amount of use, though mostly reserved for when making green tea. But I left the tea itself only half drank.
Often, when I reached for tea, I’d make just a cup of tea; never mind how often I’d finish and immediately make another cup. But when I’d go to make a full pot, I’d often go for something else, thinking the nice tea I’d imported was too fancy to just sit on the couch and read a book with. When I did make a pot with it, I’d often re-steep it again and again, trying to use it to the fullest before I finally accepted the loss.
It felt like a precious item, something that must be saved. But I was so conservative with it that most of it was left behind (I didn’t throw it away, don’t worry!) Had I used it up, I could’ve just bought more tea; there was no need to clasp so tightly to it only to not enjoy it. I’ve felt this way about produce from a farmer’s market before, too. I remember a small basket of peaches so delicious I tried to hold off eating them all, only to let the final two rot.
What was the point? What moment was I saving them for? I guess I’ll never know.
Sometimes waste is unavoidable. I'd rather buy one nice thing than a couple of lower-quality goods you have to replace again and again. I like nice things, but I want to use them as well. I bought a Leica and carry it with me everywhere I go; my nice notebooks get filled up and replaced by other nice things. And Japan is reminding me just how much pleasure can be derived from a simple pastry done well, eaten under the setting sun.
Nothing’s quite lost. I’m already eyeing go sets on Tokyo’s version of craigslist (much more affordable than the ones I imported!)—I’ve redownloaded Ableton onto my laptop. I know I’ll waste food and things going forward, but part of my impetus behind moving was that I want to be more intentional about my life. Next time, I’ll just make jam with the peaches.
