It all begins with pockets. And bags and pouches, baskets and buckets, anything that helps us carry more than our eagerly cupped hands can reasonably hold. And the more we can carry, the more we will want.

For while at first desire builds capacity, soon the tables turn, and capacity begins to build desire.

I learned this recently by grocery shopping on foot.

In the suburbs, I would drive to the food store armed with my shopping list crafted in response to three questions:

1) What do I need? (We will ignore the problem of the flabby boundaries of “need” for the moment.)
2) What do I want?
3) Where will I store it?

I shudder to think what my cart would look like if it were bounded only by the first two questions. Where, after all, do appetites and desires end?

But thank goodness the practical aspect of limited shelf-space at home serves as a semi-conscious check on my buying. My “pantry” is very much like my stomach. When it is full, I am done.

(It is a blessing, I know, that the third question is about space and not about money. While I may pass up a certain item if I feel its cost exceeds its value, I do not limit my list to fit within a weekly budget. It is a blessing indeed to worry about running out of space before running out of money.)

But when shopping on foot, my list of things to purchase is shaped by somewhat different questions:

Can I get it home?
Will it fit into my nifty little rolling cart?
Can I carry it?
Can I get it home with all the other stuff I have to get home?

My shopping list these days is built as much by volume as by need. Triage is a big part of it.

How I hold and transport things are huge determinants of what I buy these days.

Which is not a new lesson, I know. In his scary but insightful book called, Why We Buy: The Science of Shopping, Paco Underhill tells merchants how to get customers to buy more. One method: make sure they never run out of carrying space. When their hands (or baskets) are full, he tells the merchant, customers will stop buying. So… make sure you have baskets - big ones, easy to carry or push around - scattered throughout the store so customers always have space to drop in one more thing.

Similarly, a recent study reported by Scientific American teaches us that cities that reduced the availability of parking spots (in conjunction with other appropriate design and mobility initiatives) also reduced the presence of cars (thereby reducing miles driven and greenhouse gas emissions) and improved the quality of life.

Building capacity builds appetite. Reducing capacity reduces appetite.

There is a move afoot now to reverse the standard of building regulations. Instead of requiring a minimum number of spaces per construction area, it is being suggested that there be a maximum number of spaces.

All of which is to say, as appetite is a goad to technology, so technology is a goad to appetite.

This is not a call to halt exploration, discovery, progress or the grand imagination of the human spirit. It is a call to be wise about how we employ our imagination and our progress.

We must seek to channel the best of technology so we can seek to channel the best use of our appetites.

How big, after all, must our pockets be?

(Photo: my folding, rolling shopping cart)