A beautiful pic of your stash.
And yes, I can indeed relate to your feelings. There is definitely some interesting neurochemistry at work: emotions swirling around possession, a comfort derived from tangible things, and the historical record of a discovery. I'd love to better understand this sensation.
At some level, I think there's a connection to notions of life/death. The physical me, after all, is merely a transient intermediate in the nutrient cycles for carbon, nitrogen, phosphorous and sulfur. On planetary terms, I'm a flash in the pan before I return to my default state as carbon dioxide, nitrates, phosphates, and sulfates -- dust to dust. I know that, and yet I'm very connected to keeping the physical me around for as long as possible. Somehow, this overarching idea regarding self-preservation bleeds over into notions about my stuff. My stuff becomes an extension of me. It's not healthy, but it's there.
I love this interview with Jack Nicholson, which briefly touches on precisely this topic.
Money quote:
"His [Jack Nicholson's] home is stuffed with art by Matisse, Warhol, Tamara de Lempicka and Picasso; the collection is estimated to be worth over $100 million. He flicks a match to light another cigarette.
[Nicholson speaking] ‘Now I’m at home so much more, there are these moments once in a while when I think, “Jesus, look at all that.” Those pictures actually intimidate a lot of people. I’m totally solid with the “truth is beauty/beauty is truth” idea. But if I’m around it too long I start to feel trapped in this material world. I think I mustn’t get owned by my possessions, I mustn’t fall prey to materialism. Sometimes I think, “Hell, I’m going to burn them all.”’ Again, the slow Joker smile.
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http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/mosl...-Not-more.html
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