An Introduction
I have spent the past three years becoming a minimalist.
This has been a quiet and deeply personal process for me, one that I have not talked much about before now. Having always been equal parts pack rat and shopaholic, I never would have dreamed my husband and I (along with our three fur babies) could live comfortably in a 400 square foot studio space. And yet, we just moved into this living situation a few short weeks ago.
I’ve experienced an inverse relationship between my clutter and my freedom. The more clutter I have, the less time and energy I can devote to pursuing my passions. As I progressively streamline my stuff, my schedule, my social life, my commitments, I find that letting go sets me free. The space in my life gives me clarity and peace.
Now, I want to share my minimalist journey with you.
First Steps
Something about having to carry everything on my back across miles of wilderness has taught me how little I really need.
I think back fondly to the day I stood by my dining room table reviewing the gear for my very first backpacking trip. Two nights in the Cascade Mountains near Leavenworth WA during the snowy, early summer shoulder season. I stared incredulously from my gear list to the carefully spread array of items that would (hopefully) keep me alive out there.
It just didn’t feel like enough.
Should I pack a couple more t-shirts?
What if I run out of toilet paper? (I had packed only one entire roll for two days, after all.
Are these socks going to actually keep my feet warm enough?
Maybe I should toss a few more food items in, just in case I get hungry?
I carried all of that extra, “just in case” stuff across 7 miles of snowy, alpine trail. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, all it did was (quite literally) weigh me down.
Perched on a summit high in the snow, the stuff didn’t matter anymore. The mirror and extra T-shirt and second pair of pants and and and… I didn’t need them to survive. To be content in this rugged place.
Looking back now, I realize something essential. I brought excess things to compensate for my lack of confidence, my uncertainty, my fear of discomfort. (And, of course, my lack of hiking experience.)
Over time, my relationship to my hiking gear changed. I reduced my base weight to less than 20 pounds by eliminating all the items I wasn’t using or wearing. My pack now carries everything I need and nothing else. When I made this shift, I felt suddenly free, unburdened, incandescently happy.
Although it wasn’t really a conscious thought at the time, this marked the beginning of my journey into minimalism.
Minimalism defined
Whenever anyone mentioned minimalism, I used to get this image in my head of a bare apartment with a single wooden chair sitting before an old TV, no wall hangings or other adornments, just white and sterile and lonely. I wasn’t this; therefore, I wasn’t a minimalist. Or so I thought.
Over time, I learned the true definition of minimalism.
Minimalism is the practice of having exactly what you need to live your happiest life. Nothing more, nothing less. This goes beyond the stuff you own, though that is, of course, a part of it. It’s also about clearing the clutter in your email inbox, your career, your social circle, your schedule, your mindset. It’s about letting go of excess to create space in your life for what matters.
While many refer to minimalism as ‘less’, I tend to see it as more. More free time, more of the things I’m passionate about with the people I care about.
A starting place
My first active step toward minimalism came in the form of a book, as so many things often do for me: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. This was a couple years before her Netflix debut. I heard about her on a podcast and bought her book the same day.
Kondo is a professional consultant for decluttering and organizing your home. While her book discusses decluttering more than true minimalism, it acted as a gateway for me.
I grew up as a classic American consumer, and that mindset paired with my fear of letting things go made for a very cluttered space. Kondo took me through my home one category of stuff at a time, teaching me to let go of anything that did not spark joy. If it added no joy and had already fulfilled its purpose in my life, it was time to say goodbye and let it go fulfill a new purpose in the life of someone else.
The whole process took me eight months. I have never had to do another “Spring cleaning” ever again. Kondo changed the way I see “stuff” and showed me how powerful space can be. The more stuff I let go, the more clarity of purpose and ability to breathe deeply I gain.
When I sit down in my living room, I am no longer looking at a bookshelf filled with books I still haven’t gotten around to reading (well, for the most part, anyway), When I open my closet doors, I don’t have to wade through a million mediocre options. All the clothes before me are things I love, so I can grab anything to wear and feel happy with my choice. Every room, every corner, every shelf in my dwelling has been purged of excess. Everything has a place it belongs.
Next steps
With this added space to breathe and reflect, I began to see other areas of my life that were similarly cluttered. Each morning, I woke to an email inbox filled with 50-100 new junk messages to delete. My schedule was so full, I never stopped doing things. I had so many things to focus on at work, I never knew where to start. So many commitments, engagements, aspirations, directions I was being constantly pulled. It had been this way all my life.
I watched an intriguing Netflix minimalism documentary, read more books (this time audiobooks that wouldn’t crowd my newly thinned bookshelf), and kept progressively cementing this pattern of letting go and embracing space.
Instead of moving into progressively bigger dwellings with more stuff, Ryan and I intentionally downsized square footage with each move. Instead of numbing my anxieties with retail therapy after a tough week, I started finding a new trail to explore or writing in my journal.
But that doesn’t mean this process has been a cake walk…
A pivotal moment in my minimalist journey
December 29th, 2018
Yesterday, I donated a full carload of “stuff”. And somehow, this stuff was a bit different than all the carloads before…
My first lightsaber as an aspiring Jedi grade schooler.
The hand painted sign, “After all this time? Always.” made with love by my mother for the day of my wedding.
Gifted jewelry given by loved ones but seldom, if ever, worn.
Clothing items I still sometimes wore but that (when I was really honest with myself) didn’t spark instant joy when I saw them.
The list goes on.
You see, after countless carloads donated over the past 15 months, this one finally represented the tipping point for me. Driving away from these things made me feel a little vulnerable, a little scared, a little conflicted.
This carload, for me, represented the bravery of letting go.
With this carload, I embraced the truth that things don’t offer safety or happiness, and holding onto things I no longer need or love will stifle my life, not enrich it. I let go of the pack rat impulse shopper within me, knowing deep down in my soul that I was doing something really truly right.
Last night, I dreamed that our home caught on fire. The only things we carried as we fled to safety were each other and our pets. The things that really matter. I took it as a subconscious confirmation that what I did with that carload of stuff I didn’t really need was the right thing to do. The things that matter are still right here beside me.
The path to minimalism isn’t always easy. But I know in my heart it’s worth it.
Epilogue
Minimalism has opened so many doors in my life.
Intentionally owning less led naturally to a focus on sustainability. We eliminated paper towels, dryer sheets, and so much other unnecessary landfill fodder from our home. We started composting, buying more items in bulk and looking always for new ways to move zero waste. I strongly recommend REI’s Opt to Act Movement, as it offers a new way each week to cut down on your carbon footprint.
Ryan and I have saved money, gained time previously lost managing all our clutter, and been able to really look toward our future. I learned how to let go of things I don’t need, freeing up space in my life to live more fully, with more peace and clarity of vision. Everything in my life has a place and a purpose.
The word minimalism can feel threatening sometimes, but remember, it’s just a word. It’s up to you to decide how to apply it to your life. Whether all of your possessions fit into a backpack or you have a garage full of motorcycles and camping gear, it all comes down to the same exact concept: more of what brings you true joy and contentment, less of the clutter that does not.
As we learn to disconnect our own sense of self from the things we own, it empowers us to consume less and live more. Becoming a minimalist (both on the trail and off) broke me free from the clutter, giving me the freedom and confidence to pursue my best life.
What does minimalism mean to you? Would you like to hear more about my minimalist journey? Leave me a comment below!
We moved a long way from commercialism 15 years ago passing on 95% of the holiday bling, focusing more on the meaning of the season and traveling to our retreat for family time together. It’s easy if you try. Like skydiving, the first step is the biggest one. Rick
This couldn’t be more true. That first step makes all the difference, starting us in a new trajectory. The momentum compounds with each subsequent step, whether that be decluttering a book shelf, giving the gift of quality time rather than things, or unsubscribing from a junk email list that doesn’t add value to your life. Your holiday tradition inspires and fuels the minimalist within me!
I have had a nearly identical experience with minimalism myself, am constantly moving toward a more minimalist lifestyle, and LOVE Kondo’s teachings. This entry speaks to me SO much. Thanks for sharing!
I’m so happy to hear that my story resonates with you! I love swapping tips and stories with a fellow budding minimalist 🙂