About 80 percent of the stuff I live with is old. I like letting things take on the character they’re meant to have by really being used. … when you own things that have the imperfections they deserve, that they’ve earned from a well-lived life, it frees you from feeling as though they’re untouchable.
Interpretation
Embracing imperfections in possessions allows for a more meaningful and less stressful relationship with them.
Nate Berkus reflects on the value of owning items that bear the marks of age and use, suggesting that their imperfections are a testament to a well-lived life. By appreciating these flaws, one can develop a deeper connection with their belongings, freeing oneself from the fear of damaging or losing something that is overly pristine and thus untouchable.
In practice
In a speech about minimalism, you might quote this to emphasize the beauty of aged belongings.
I see it every day: People trying to create a home that somebody else tells them they should have. I don't care if it's a magazine or a bossy friend - when somebody says, 'This is what's elegant, this is what's trendy,' if it doesn't represent you, you're not going to be happy.
I believe your home tells a story about who you are and who you aspire to be. We represent ourselves through the things we own. I don't believe in trends. I believe in collecting things that you connect with. We should surround ourselves with things we care about, that have meaning.
The Jewish story is the story of wandering. It is the story of extraordinary heterogeneous complication.
This is something that I'm sure I'd have serious debates with my fellow Christians about. I think that the difficult thing about any religion, including Christianity, is that at some level there is a call to evangelize and prostelytize. There's the belief, certainly in some quarters, that people haven't embraced Jesus Christ as their personal savior that they're going to hell.
If we were to do the Second Coming of Christ in color for a full hour, there would be a considerable number of stations which would decline to carry it on the grounds that a Western or a quiz show would be more profitable.
All such action would cease if those powerful elemental forces were to cease stirring within us.
Now I’m just standing here on the conveyor. Along for the ride. I reach the end, turn around, and go back the other way. The world has been distilled. Being dead is easy. After a few hours of this, I notice a female on the opposite conveyor. She doesn’t lurch or groan like most of us. Her head just lolls from side to side. I like that about her. That she doesn’t lurch or groan. I catch her eye and stare at her.
There's an ancient tension between wanting to savor the world as it is and wanting to improve on the world as given.
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