A Dragon or an Adventurer? The Worth of Treasure-Hunting

Humans appear to be collectors by default. Regardless of what thing you are susceptible to, the chances are that you collect something. Some people opt for books and amass massive libraries that could challenge the city-subsidized ones. Others are tempted by old coins, stamps, or ancient artifacts. Some, like myself, have various different collections: tree leaves, seashells, perfumes. And yet some others collect not physical items but skills: crafts to make, recipes to bake at a moment’s notice, poems for every occasion. The satisfaction of collecting treasures is intrinsic to our nature. And while I am no psychologist and will not hazard a guess as to the reasons behind this trend, I will argue against all those who deride collecting and snide at collectors. 

I think collecting is valuable, especially when coupled with an appreciation for the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. Consider someone who might begin a collection of antique tea-ware. He prizes the beauty and craftsmanship of these old teacups, which were painstakingly handmade. His collecting is linked to an appreciation for beauty. Consider someone who collects books and curates a lovely library of classic volumes in beautiful editions: she is collecting these items because she recognizes the goodness of these stories. A boy who begins collecting coins in his teenage years might form excellent relationships over a shared interest in the history of money; a kid who collects Pokémon cards will form instant friendships over trading and finding rare cards. Women who collect special crockery will bond over the best antique stores or the utility of their finds; girls who collect DVDs and books will lend them to each other and discover the power of stories. Sharing collections can form an excellent basis for life-long friendships. 

Furthermore, collecting items is a tangible act. In an ever-increasingly digital age, where people are further and further removed from tactile experience, collecting offers an opportunity to properly engage with the physical world. There is a difference between owning something digitally and owning something physically; we still recognize this, even as technology becomes more and more ingrained in our daily lives. One could easily collect virtual pictures of stamps. But that collection would be worth nothing. It is the physical existence of the stamps collected that matters.  

For example, collecting perfumes is a very common hobby: There are whole subcultures devoted to the subtleties of the art of perfumery. There is no way people who collect perfumes could ever use up every bottle they buy. So why would they buy them, if they can’t use them all up? Precisely because there is a worth in the possession of the item, of having hunted and found it—of being able to feel the bottle, of becoming intimately attuned to the scent, of analyzing every particle of it. What does this type of collection offer people? A way to experience scents and to interact with smells that they might otherwise never encounter. Many people will never find wild ylang-ylang and smell it, but they can discern the note in a perfume and therefore create a connection to the flower. And someone who becomes interested in perfumery might naturally develop an interest in scent in general. From there, there are many paths to be taken and many things to study: chemistry, biology, history. One might develop an interest in cooking through exposure to the smells of spices in perfumes, or one might become a naturalist after smelling all the flowers that are common perfume ingredients. Many types of collections are not “dead-ends”: They will lead one into further interests, creating a deeper, richer, more interesting life. 

There is naturally the danger of becoming dragons: Like Smaug sitting over his gold, there is the danger of becoming too attached to the items themselves and forgetting what they represent. Overconsumption has overtaken modern society and there must be moderation in collecting. People who are truly fascinated by the objects in their collection understand this: There is joy in the discovery, in the slow “hunt” for the next piece. As a birdwatcher and photographer, I can attest to this in my own work. I studiously avoid things like zoos, domesticated birds, bird shows, or local falconries. There is much less joy in taking a photo of a bird that has been trained to pose for the camera than there is in stumbling on even the most common of birds in the wild. The missing ingredient that the Smaugs of the world are lacking is the enjoyment of the act of collecting. Collecting is an active and ongoing pursuit, not a game of quantity: That is hoarding. Someone who collects LEGOs, for example, builds the sets; a hoarder leaves the boxes unopened and untouched. Shelves of action figures unplayed with and comics unread are sad. And for that reason, hoarding dragons are unable to truly appreciate what they have collected. Each item in a collection should tell a story. Collections can represent ties to history, to the long lineage of creation, of beauty, of greatness that civilization has created. It can represent curiosity about the natural world and a willingness to learn about . When you ”collect” (that is, buy) everything at once you forfeit these stories and connections, and then collecting loses all of its value. 

For there is merit in collecting items. It can create communities and relationships, be a tool for learning about the world, serve as a catalogue of one’s life and travels, and so on. If there was not some worth in the act of collecting, humans would not feel so called to it. We are somewhat like crows who find shiny bits of plastic and stray pieces of yarn to adorn their nests. There is no reason to collect brightly colored or sparkling things to add to a nest, but they do it because it is pretty. 

Similarly, we could probably survive without ever being collectors, but a great deal of the beauty and joy in life might be lost without it. Collecting, in all the forms that it takes, is a worthwhile pursuit—so long as one recalls that the treasure-hunting is often the most valuable part.