वहत इस रियल Value

Im up at 2:00 in the morning watching Hoarders on A&E. It holds my fascination like no other show on TV. Some people would call me a hoarder and maybe to some degree I am. I own that. I understand it and all its complicated reasons and problems. I am also saying that humans in general are hoarders. The difference between hoarders and rich people is that the rich can afford the space to maintain their hoarding, space to walk, room to breathe, and when theres is a problem, they can hire some one to fix it, exterminate it, clean it, remove it. People with less money dont have it so easy if they collect. They do not have the resources to maintain it. They tend not to have friends or family in which they share their environment. Affluent people maintain showcases to impress others even more than their selves. For people with less, it becomes a vicious circle into an abyss in which eventually they cannot dig themselves out of it. Their life becomes even more alienated because of shame, fear, and self loathing. Most of these people have mental health issues and could benefit from therapy and/or medication.
This said, maybe we should all look at what is truly valuable. It goes without saying that air, sun, earth, water, and each other are things no one can live without on earth. We dont value these things at all. We pollute the air, we blot out the sun, we rape the earth, we poison the water, and we abuse, use, and kill one another.
That said, lets look at what value really is. Its whatever value we assign to it. Other than the above mentioned, we dont need anything else. We dont need stuff to live. We need only the most basic food, shelter and clothing to survive. With everything else the value only exists in our minds and the worth we assign to it. Diamonds are rocks that are pretty ugly in their natural state. They are plentiful enough for everyone to have a pretty shiney. But somehow they have become precious, like gold. A few selfish greedy men control all the diamonds. When there are too many diamonds in the market and they become affordable to more people, these greedy men hoard the diamonds to make them expensive again. They spend millions on marketing campaigns to put the idea of value in our minds. Women feel unloved if they dont have a diamond and its size is the measure of how much the gifter loves them. Diamonds are pretty rocks along with other pretty rocks that exist in nature. The diamond has been made king. Millions of people suffer, are abused and even killed because of these diamonds. This doesnt seem to matter to most people because its not them that is negatively affected.
For hoarders, there is value in everything. Nothing gets thrown away because everything is valuable. Some of the things most people would not see as valuable like old food, newspapers, clothes, etc. I would say that there is more value in things than most people see. Old furniture, clothing, plants, animals, fresh food, and yet we throw these things away by the truckload. This stuff is hauled away to big holes in the ground so we dont have to deal with it anymore. We created the stuff, why do we not value it? Why is it wrong to keep something and just to fix it when it breaks? Do we realize that we will eventually choke and drown in our refuse? Where and when will it stop?
Ill tell you what I value and collect. Pretty or interesting rocks. Old furniture that can be fixed. Items from my childhood that brings me back good feelings. Items from my Grandmas life and time that remind me of our love. Things I can use in my art to creatively repurpose a new creation. Plants that were tossed because they were neglected and werent pretty anymore, animals that no one else cares about. This is just a small list of what I value and there is a reason for everything that I have. I walk the fine line between collecting and hoarding. I grew up with a hoarder, a true hoarder, as bad as it gets. I guess you could say its in my DNA or psychie. I am watchful of my habits and what I value. It gets out of hand sometimes but is dealt with when it becomes a problem. I have had therapy and am on medication which helps me keep a grip on reality. I want family and friends to visit, I am proud of my acquisitions, and I dont want to prevent anyone else from living a healthy life, including myself. I am conscious of my environment and see so clearly those who are not.
I could go on and on about this because I see it as so important for us and the planet. A drop of water will eventually find its way back to the ocean. There are shockwaves in everything everyone of us does. Lets become conscious of our world!

अल यू नीद इस Love

All you need is love. Alot of people will say thats nonsense, that in the real world you need money and stuff to survive. I have proof that indeed, all you need is love. I had a terrible childhood, and yet the best and most precious memories I will always cherish in my heart are the few brief times I stayed on my Grandpa and Grandmas farm in Prentice, Northern Wiscosin. They were my step grandparents, parents to my step dad. The Ericksons, and they were Swedish. If you could know how they lived, you would say that no one comes any poorer than that. And you would be right. They had "nothing". There was no indoor plumbing, no bathroom, and no refrigerator. Why did I want to stay there? Because they were the richest people I knew in the commodity of love and acceptance. I was not their step child, like everyone else introduced me as. I was their child, through and through, no different from any other. In fact Grandma favored me over all the other kids, because I was a girl. Her only girl. It was the first time and only time I felt special just because I was female. I was 6, but I still remember her running to me and throwing her waiting loving arms around me and holding me so tight when we first met. Yes I was overwelmed, but I sure did love it, and her, instantly.
Life on the farm was filled with adventure and activity laden days. Never was I bored. There was no TV, no radio. If I couldnt find something to do, Grandma would involve me in her chores, making it age appropriate for me, or do something with me that I chose. She made copious amounts of bread and I would always had my little tins that I would fill. I made all sorts of fancy shapes. She showed me I was important and that I could accomplish something. During night time milking, I would hang out in the barn with the many cats and dogs. It was warm and cozy in there on cold Wisconsin days. It was enough for me to just sit and watch the agrarian life taking place in front of me. I also would go everyday with my handsome tall uncle named Freddie, to get the cows. It was my favorite thing to do of all. We had to find them, then rustle them up, get them moving in the direction of the barn. There was a river we had to cross holding on to a pulley rope and glide across, with me on my uncles shoulders. He would also take me for bike rides on the handlebars of an old bike. He was studying to be a teacher and he always had fun art projects for me to do. I made my first and only encaustic with him using old crayons. There was never any inpropriety, no molestation. I was respected there as an equal human being with rights and feelings. Grandma Esther was very spiritual and took me to church, enrolled me in Sunday school. I still remember the wonderful smell of thousands of broken crayons in a big box that we used during Sunday school to color our bible lessons. My only same age playmate was a Grandchild of Grandmas. He lived just a few farms over and his name was Danny. We were best friends and we thought up endless things to do. We would make "castles in snow, large castles that had rooms, height, stairs, tunnels. There was plenty of snow for that. There was a playhouse at Dannys, where we would play house. Gender was not an issue. Nothing was considered girly, sissy, or tomboyish. It was just us playing out our childish fantasies and It was wonderful.
I will share now a very painful aspect of my childhood. I was a bedwetter. It was a constant source of agony and humiliation for me, because most every adult in my life treated it with disgust. I feel this is important to the story because Grandma Esther treated me as if there was nothing at all wrong with me. I even slept with her when I was there. She had no qualms about that. She just dutifully changed the linens every morning, never a complaint or snide remark, much less a spanking like I was used to. That was purely magical to me. I viewed her as my angel on earth, the one and only person who truly loved me and who was healthy for me to be around. I know that if I had been allowed to grow up there, life for me would have been so different. My own Mother made fun of Esther and detested going anywhere near that hovel. I really hated her for that. Everytime I had to go back home, my heart just broke and I have never felt a pain so bad as that. No, there was nothing there,..... except love.