The only thing we really own is our memories.
In the last year, my dog Chunky’s chewed his way through about 10 cushions, a few shirts, a couple footballs, a hockey puck and a TV remote (some of which were sentimental to me). But I’ve got a rule: If he ruins it, it’s not worth anything. A dog’s a good gauge of stuff’s true value. Furniture, books, all the other stuff round the house… Whatever. Yeah, some of that stuff could be inconvenient to replace, but that doesn’t mean it matters¹.
The only stuff that matters is the stuff that’s alive
This is Snufkin from The Moomins, and homeboy Snufkin believes the memory of something is actually the only thing that’s got value –not the actual thing. Even if we lose that sentimental thing –or the dog destroys it– the memory always comes with us. And, I don’t have kids, but if or when I do, that’s something I can’t imagine Chunky destroying. And if my house was on fire, I’d be making sure my wife’s alright first but then, I’m grabbing Chunky.
So what I take from that is that pretty much all that matters in life are the living things: people, animals and nature. And Chunky isn’t going to self-destroy himself. So, conclusion: he matters.
¹ And just because I say it, doesn’t mean I live by it effortlessly (there’s things of mine he could destroy that I’d be PO’d about). But I aim to.