minimalism and such

So about the minimalist lifestyle.  It's a big thing these days, so it's easy to find a proponent, or seven, who shares their experiences, advice and hacks on the interwebs and in the bookstores.  What they'll all tell you is that minimalism is not just one prescribed list of actions or capped inventory of possessions.

"...finding simplicity and mindfulness in the daily chaos of our lives. It’s about clearing the clutter so we can focus on what’s important, create something amazing, find happiness." - Leo Babauta, Zen Habits

"...is designed to inspire others to pursue their greatest passions by owning fewer possessions." - Joshua Becker, Becoming Minimalist

"Minimalism is a tool to rid yourself of life’s excess in favor of focusing on what’s important—so you can find happiness, fulfillment, and freedom." - Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus, The Minimalists

"Being a minimalist doesn’t mean owning nothing, it means owning exactly the right things. It’s not about being anti-consumption, it’s about being anti-compulsory consumption." - Colin Wright, Exile Lifestyle

"...living small and simply isn’t about the size of my house or whether I can tow it down the highway. It’s about making mindful choices that give me freedom, flexibility, and the opportunity to spend time with loved ones." - Tammy Strobel, Rowdy Kittens

I don't know if I could ever, in good faith, label myself a minimalist now or in the future.  My attitudes about my stuff still ebb and flow, especially since we haven't finished the process of purging and moving.  But there are some solid principals that have guided me, Ben and the kids towards an existence that is uncluttered and focussed on the important few.

I highly recommend you watch the documentary (via Netflix or iTunes) if you haven't already.  It presents a broad spectrum of approaches to the idea.

A repeating theme, even scattered among the quotes above, is mindfulness.  Well there's another buzz word these days.  My understanding of the idea needs only to focus on the word's root.  

Mind.  Hmm.

What if we just, duh, thought about every thing we bring home?  Everything we purchase?  Everything we commit ourselves and our families to?  I have heard on several occasions the suggestion that we should think about any purchase over $100 for 30 days before buying it.  In hindsight, wow, my house and my life would have looked very, very different if I did that.  The candy and tabloid kiosks leading up to the cash registers?  They are placed there for the exact reason that we don't do that.  "Impulse buys", we call them.

My takeaway from the minimalist movement ties into that quote from Tsh Oxenreider about everything in my life aligning with my purpose.  Reduce my physical environment to its purest form - just my needs and the wants that I love - without frills, without clutter, to allow space for genuine mindfulness and intention about my life, my actions and my pursuits.

I read a book that was recommended several times in my podcast listenings over the last couple of years: Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, by Greg McKeown.  Being a visual learner, his diagrams are what really helped me digest the value of doing and having less.  Look at this:

This illustrates exactly how my life has felt...the one on the left.  Spending my energy on a lot of things, in a lot of different directions, and getting nowhere.  Maybe you could even warp the circle because everything is tugging away at everything else.  The right side demonstrates essentialism, where the focus is on fewer things resulting in greater progress.

I look at this diagram and it makes me hungry for order in my life.  I see the little stumpy arrows on the left as shallow breaths, almost panicked.  Um, ya, I think they're panicked.  A lot of reactionary decisions over the last 20 years have sent my finances in one direction, my methods of home-keeping another, my parenting style yet another, my faith practice, my work ethic, my social life, etc.  They're not bad, but I can confidently say that many of these facets of my life were not carefully and intentionally established with the whole in mind.

Look at that right drawing. It's wonderfully simple. One, long, unlaboured, life-giving breath.

 

finding minimalism

I think it was the weekend before Christmas and Ben and I were driving home from a shopping trip.  Without warning I heard, "I think 5% of me would be okay if we sold our house now instead of in ten years."

Out of my own mouth.

The reality of our finances caused a dull, inescapable hum, as it tends to do around the holidays.  The recently-woven dream of downsizing and paying off our debt with the proceeds in ten years did not bring me the comfort I thought it would.  Even though it was plausible, with the kids easily being in their twenties and likely living their own lives by then.

In quick succession I heard the statement again.

Out of his mouth.

And by the time our six-minute drive home was done, 5% became 99% and we had the outline of a plan.

The conversation continued up in our bedroom - it's a strange feeling, having a hard conversation and being excited about it - as we brainstormed what this plan would entail.

Later that night, I flipped through Netflix's new releases on the 43" smart TV Ben had just won at his Christmas party and discreetly set up in our bedroom.

"Minimalism: A Documentary About The Important Things"

Hmm.  What's that?

Melissa had been tossing the term minimalism around the house over the past year and I wasn't sure if it referred to the style of art or the tendency of some to furnish an all-white room with a single white chair.

So I watched it while folding laundry and possibly with my mouth gaped open for the full 78 minutes.

You know that scene in The Matrix when Trinity sucks the bug out of Neo's belly button?  He freaks out when the bloody parasite comes into his view, just before she tosses it out the car window and it dies its little electronical death.

It felt like that, an ugly truth about self and the world held at eye-level in all its nauseating, convicting glory, but with hints of actionable hope.   Like a great sermon.

And so began the slide down the rabbit hole.  I think I watched it again the next day.  I looked up The Minimalists and every contributor shown in the film.  I asked people if they'd seen it and if not, recommended it.  I extracted key points and swallowed them whole as I went about my day, looking at my clothes, my kitchen, my stress, my life.  

I had finally discovered one of the tools I had been longing for to address the disorder that was suffocating seemingly every area of my life.

 

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