It is lumber, man — all lumber!

[genovese]

There was a post today on Matt Haig's twitter quoting an extract from
the book Three Men In A Boat. The story of a two-week boating holiday on the Thames

The quote is quite beautifully written and resonates.
The fact that it was written in 1889 really blows my mind

George said:

“You know we are on a wrong track altogether. We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can’t do without.”

George comes out really quite sensible at times. You’d be surprised. I call that downright wisdom, not merely as regards the present case, but with reference to our trip up the river of life, generally. How many people, on that voyage, load up the boat till it is ever in danger of swamping with a store of foolish things which they think essential to the pleasure and comfort of the trip, but which are really only useless lumber.

How they pile the poor little craft mast-high with fine clothes and big houses; with useless servants, and a host of swell friends that do not care twopence for them, and that they do not care three ha’pence for; with expensive entertainments that nobody enjoys, with formalities and fashions, with pretence and ostentation, and with — oh, heaviest, maddest lumber of all! — the dread of what will my neighbour think, with luxuries that only cloy, with pleasures that bore, with empty show that, like the criminal’s iron crown of yore, makes to bleed and swoon the aching head that wears it!

It is lumber, man — all lumber! Throw it overboard. It makes the boat so heavy to pull, you nearly faint at the oars. It makes it so cumbersome and dangerous to manage, you never know a moment’s freedom from anxiety and care, never gain a moment’s rest for dreamy laziness — no time to watch the windy shadows skimming lightly o’er the shallows, or the glittering sunbeams flitting in and out among the ripples, or the great trees by the margin looking down at their own image, or the woods all green and golden, or the lilies white and yellow, or the sombre-waving rushes, or the sedges, or the orchis, or the blue forget-me-nots.

Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need — a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.

You will find the boat easier to pull then, and it will not be so liable to upset, and it will not matter so much if it does upset; good, plain merchandise will stand water. You will have time to think as well as to work. Time to drink in life’s sunshine — time to listen to the AEolian music that the wind of God draws from the human heart-strings around us — time to —

[Mr. Nobody]

This message has been given many times in many different ways and guises over the centuries, going back as far as you wish.

Jesus once said narrow is the way that leads to life
Also, consider the lillies etc. For they toil not.........
that's a little less prosaic and wordy but it's nonetheless the same message
I suppose it's a timeless message and an important one that's too easy to overlook or forget.

[choirgirl]

That's a lovely passage and I definitely relate to it. I've never read the book.

But I do think some people need to be out in the world and achieving and experiencing things in order to be happy. But perhaps they identify with this more minimalist approach later in life.

Also the simple life actually requires quite a lot of money these days one way or another. I mean the homely home alone, think what that costs!