The Stink of Subjugation

How the hell do nomadic tribes do it? I wonder about the Maasai of Kenya, the Mbuti of the Ituri Rain Forest, or the Gypsies. How do they manage to divorce themselves from the items of the world that become theirs? Their possessions do not anchor them into the earth. Are they even aware of the concept of possessions? From what I've read in Turnbull's book, The Forest People, the Mbuti pygmies travel light and travel often. There's definitely something freeing about that lifestyle. The people are not exempt from tribal customs or the (sometimes deadly) punishment of ostracism for breaking certain unspoken rules, but they operate freely, without government, without religion, and without the obligation to "settle down." Indeed, if they did, they would probably die off rather quickly.

I realize as the time and the days escape my grasp that my lease with my apartment will be up soon. As I stand amongst my possessions inside my room, dwindled in size due to my expanding list of effects, I feel burdened. This cultural phenomenon, to keep things that are impractical and unnecessary, to put things on the walls for decoration, to hoard useless stuff out of a sense of nostalgia, to be "better" than someone else by owning more things, to fill each room with decor that becomes background noise, is only appealing to those who are comfortable with settling. These things serve me no purpose. Clothing for function and some for  socially appropriate occasions, utensils for cooking and eating, a place for rest, one laptop for work and play, and cherished books are really all I need. (Oh, and my cat, Bowie, of course!)

So why do I see bags upon bags, boxes upon boxes, stacked higher and higher containing useless property?

Smell that? Sniff. That's the stench of stagnation. Sniff. The scent of complacency. Sniff, sniff. The stink of subjugation.

This smell is making me choke.