Why is stuff so important?

Lately I have been reading a lot about how our "stuff" defines who we are. I've mentioned that there are family heirlooms and other items with sentimental value that I don't want to part with. I know the wisdom of many Eastern philosophies - one of the more recent of these to reach the US is that of "Feng Shui." Most material that I've read on the subject allows some leeway for objects that one absolutely loves. The problem I have is that I love too much (stuff, that is). Maybe I am just blessed (or cursed) with too many memories. Most of the items in question have a fond recollection attached to them. 

Take for example, my guitar. I've had it since I was a teen, used to play it regularly well into my 20s, sporadically in my 30s and haven't touched it since. My daughter tried to teach herself how to play it about 10 years ago and I remember getting new strings at the time, but her interest waned - as a teen-aged girl's will. I dust the case a few times a year. It sits behind the door of our bedroom just wishing someone would take it out and play it. 


When I took it out from its dusty (eternal?) resting place today, I noticed that the "A" string broke sometime in the past decade or so. After seeing it, I remembered that if one is going to store a guitar, the strings should be loosened first - doh 'forehead-slap.' I never intended to store it, I just got busy with other things - like raising kids.
I really don't want a dusty guitar with a broken string to define who I am. I'd rather be thought of as a semi-frustrated musician who will restring the instrument and try to take it up again (after the downsizing is finished).


Maybe when the 'family room' is cleared out, the guitar will move there.