Do you want to make me really angry, really fast? Call me a "consumer". Cattle are consumers, mindlessly chomping whatever is beneath their feet. With that said, all of us need some stuff. We don't need everything that we want, of course. A winter coat and sturdy boots are essentials. Imelda Marcos took things too far. We know all this, and yet, we constantly generate lists; lists of stuff that we need, lists of stuff that we think we might need, lists of stuff that other people might need and, therefore, trade us for things that we need. To own everything that goes on all the lists would break a small mid-western bank and require a medium-sized McMansion, with full basement, to store the immense pile of stuff. Somewhere, there has to be some middle ground, because someday, the thing that we "need" may be the ability to move. And maybe we'll have to move fast. The other nose poking under the tent is consumption of both resources and capital. Do we have the money to buy all that stuff? Do we really have the dollars to buy the McMansion to store all that stuff? And, can the we justify allocating our resources that way in the face of all that we know about economic realities and peaking resources? If your answer is "yes" please find a link to "I'marichpig.com" and head over there, you'll find nothing that interests you here. A few months back, my imagination was sparked by an article about people who were reducing their personal possessions to one hundred things. It was a concept that peaked my interest, but I don't think that it is practical for preppers with regard to everything that they own; tools, clothes and household goods. I think that the idea does have merit when it comes to your BOB...a well-planned BOB should have about one hundred things in it (a bottle of 50 Ibuprofen is one thing) and weigh about thirty-five pounds. The other memory that the article sparked was the list of possessions and containers that the military issued. When I was in the service, all of my personal gear; clothing, shoes etc., fit into a rucksack, a duffel bag and a foot locker. Actually, the Army issued two duffel bags that held your initial issue of clothing and the rucksack and field gear were issued at whatever fort you were assigned to. But after that, every deployment of any length involved the ruck, the duffel and the footlocker. I had a day-pack (a Gregory Day-and-a-Half Pack) that I carried everywhere. It fit on top of the large ruck and contained the most essential gear that I would need if I had to drop the large ruck and run, or if I was sent on a patrol after we had established a base.
The beauty of this packing system is that you can carry everything in one load. The ruck goes on your back, the duffel gets tossed on top of the ruck and the foot locker goes in your hands. You can't walk far like that, but you can easily move all your personal kit from house-to-car in one trip. Limiting your packing space limits the number of things that you own, but it also causes you to consider the quality of your gear. Who wants to waste precious space on junk? And, you must consider, think about, the things that you really do, and how your kit helps you accomplish those things. You must consider an implement's qualities as well as its quality. All this thinking about the things that you own, the space in which you store those things and the way that you move them is a transformative process: from consumer to intentional owner.
Of course, you'll need other kit for food production and preservation, cooking and housekeeping etc. But having your personal kit, pared and packed with only the most useful, highest-quality, implements so that it can be moved quickly and efficiently will bring the peace-of-mind that comes with being "done" and the satisfaction that comes with owning a little of the best, rather than a wagon load of questionable gear.
Peace
