Hi Sea...
Some of the items in your list struck a corresponding list in me. I am usually the one complaining about hubby's clutter... toys he's bought to play with "someday"... the piles of magazines that feed his dreams...
The truth is, that I have my own sacrosanct items like your saris and fabric. Canvas, brushes, the easel I've moved many times since 1980... old litho plates - even cans of etching ground that can't possibly be any good. And of course, art books, which I can't bear to part with (though I did do a heavy sort while packing to move, the last time). Part of me hasn't let go of the desire to make things; to see myself as a "maker" - an artist; despite not having seriously worked at it (though I played at it a bit at the beginning of my healing journey in some pencil drawings) for many years. I used to think that I was "blocked" from working and told myself (rationalization) that I'd return to it when I retired; now I'm not so sure.
It's more like I'm stubbornly refusing to work; selfishly - denying the rest of myself - the pleasure of the tactile, sensory and meditative space of the artistic "zone". And the items that I've kept (or re-collected) for that kind of work are like some tantalizing "carrot" that I dangle in front of "me"... teasing myself about how much fun it is - how not "serious" or "important" it is - to make things. The gist of it, is that I don't feel "worthy" to actually do that kind of creative work anymore. I think that my time to be taken seriously as an artist has passed me by; that the "rules" of the "game" now make it impossible for me to make a career for myself in that world. Pish-Posh! Rationalization! A way to avoid "looking like I don't know who I am" and "pretending to be an artist" - and to avoid rejection, criticism, taking risks... that's what it is. But that's another topic altogether.
Another observation, on the value - nonvalue of things we keep over the years:
MIL's trunk of handmade baby clothes... that represent that special time when her adult children were babies; the love that each stitch represents... the wedding dress she wore in the 50's... she was wondering whether to move these, give them away... and I wouldn't let her. I told her that these things were part of who she IS. It was an intense emotional moment for me... so I was totally winging it... but in that moment, I felt there was some real truth in what I said. Mystery, too - because I can't rationally explain what I meant by that or how it would make sense.
At the other end of the scale, is my Nmom - a classic hoarder for many years. Her "things" were much more important to her than her relationships with other people. The things substituted for the people themselves; her relationships were with the things, instead. Wanna make her have a breakdown?? Just pack up and move her "things"... Currently, she is trying move out, sell, or give away that mountain (literally) of stuff that she simply couldn't part with when she moved in with my brother - over 10 years ago. But she doesn't, really - she simply re-arranges the things. I've been getting the sense that in some way this mountain of stuff represents, stands in for a whole mountain of emotional stuff that she's still in denial about - and can't/won't deal with. She tried to "push" or project it all on me - and I don't think I'm the only one, anymore; she does this with others, too.
This only sounds like a digression - but, back in art school, I painted a plywood cutout self-portrait and made an easel for it, so it appeared I was sitting indian fashion on the floor. I gave it to her and she still has it - eerily symbolic, isn't it?
