Simplicity by Sunny

As an enthusiastic reader, I once lived happily with books scattered everywhere.  I do mean everywhere.  An almost permanent pile rode in the backseat of my car, waiting for a return to the library.  A tower of books teetered next to my favorite spot on the sofa.  One was usually forgotten in the kitchen, discarded while refilling my wine glass.  Another next to the bathtub, waterlogged and slightly stained with pink bubble bath.  If there weren’t at least twenty books overflowing from my living spaces - well, something felt wrong.

With my decision to focus on writing this summer, I also decided to curb the number of books I check out from the library because those piles (and piles) were distracting.  Wonderfully distracting, mind you, but distracting nonetheless. 

Surprisingly, I’ve found a lovely side effect of reading only one book at a time.  When I had twenty books, I found myself anxiously skimming through the pages of whichever one I held, hurrying to finish it.  I was like the paper version of the Nascar 500.  Because, after all, I had nineteen others that needed to be read, too.  With one single book, though, I relish each page.  I’m in no rush.  Now I find myself reading meaningful paragraphs over again several times, letting the words sink in and unwind into my head.  I find myself closing the book occasionally, taking time to ponder and daydream.  Because I choose only one book from the library, I choose it carefully, and am rarely disappointed with my choice.  I go through fewer books, but I’m actually reading more. 

When I uncluttered and minimized, I believed the empty space needed to be filled, at least partially, with my favorite things.  But my favorite things, too, are best when deliberately chosen and thoughtfully pursued.  I’ve found this to be true about more than books.  Picking out one bottle of wine is more satisfying than picking out three.  With only one bottle, I must read each label, think of my impending dinner, consider my mood.  I love this process!  Capturing one excellent photograph is better than a dozen half-hearted snapshots.  With taking only one photograph, I must see the landscape.  A bouquet of roses may be stunning, but a single rose seduces my gaze to the curve of each petal.  

One flavor of Jelly Belly stuffed into my mouth is better than ten flavors, no matter how much I love sugar :) .

One is a powerful number.

All the world’s a stage / And all the men and women merely players; / They have their exits and their entrances; / And one man in his time plays many parts… William Shakespeare

As an obsessive-compulsive neat freak who requires everything to be “just so”, I can experience a panic attack when my apartment is messy.  By messy, I mean there’s one MIA coffee cup lounging outside of the dishwasher and one pair of on-the-run socks who’ve escaped the laundry basket.  I realize this isn’t healthy, but my neurotic tendencies could be worse.  I think.

When I decided to spend my summer writing I knew my neuroticism would need to be toned down.  Otherwise I’d never get anything accomplished.  Without school to keep me in check, I’d run wild with organizing and minimizing to the exclusion of every other thing.  And I do mean EVERY other thing.  And, truth be told, I’m actually most comfortable in a space that isn’t perfect.  Not cluttered, but free-flowing.  I’m happiest in places where life is evident.  Where things are both practical and beautiful and sometimes out-of-place.

Last week I looked around my apartment, clearly set up by a neurotic Type A, and decided to change things.  But I didn’t know how… until I started thinking about my life as a stage.  Myself as a character.

My Neurotic Apartment was organized in a series of banker boxes that were stacked carefully in my walk-in closet, nicknamed “Super Closet”.  Nothing is more inconvenient than having a Super Closet.  Nothing makes less sense than hauling out - daily – my external DVD drive from the bottom of a banker’s box when I want to watch 30 Rock.  Nothing makes less sense than storing anything in a banker’s box (and in the back of a closet, no less) when you use it every day.  Do you know how much time I’ve wasted going back and forth from my walk-in Super Closet to “unpack” something that’s stored away when it shouldn’t be stored at all?  Well, I’m not going to tell you.  It’s darn right embarrassing.

Our homes don’t need to look perfect.  Or be perfect.  Or impress anyone.  The best design for your home is one that sets the stage of your life in a practical and personally pleasing way.

I always appreciate a flair for the dramatic, so I really like the idea of setting a stage for my life.  The idea of it motivates me.  It gives me a new perspective by thinking of myself as a character.  Not pretending to be someone else.  I mean visualizing myself as a character starring in Her Fabulous Existence.  I mean thinking outside of my mental box and wondering how someone (much smarter and more stylish than me) would design my life if I were a character in a movie.   

One of my favorite aspects of watching movies is taking note of the sets.  Nancy Meyers is a particular favorite.  Her designs are more cluttered than I’d want for myself, but I adore her style all the same.  (Take a look what she did for the movie It’s Complicated.  I also drool over Dr. Brennan’s loft and Seeley’s apartment in the show Bones.  Oh, and I can’t forget to mention Millie’s loft in Because I Said So.)  I find myself falling head-over-heels over sets that truly reflect the character who lives there.

How can you design your stage?  How would you, as a brilliant character, live?  And if what you imagine is feasible, go for it.  And if it’s not at all realistic, get as close as possible.  Life’s simpler when you design your perfect backdrop.  

For myself, I wanted to set my apartment up as a writing cave (minus the darkness and bugs).  A little hideaway designed for writing, reading, watching movies, and munching Spanish olives.  All the while, of course, remaining a die-hard minimalist.

“I got lots of work to do!” I said while rolling up my sleeves.  I was ready to tackle My Neurotic Apartment.

Since my apartment is practically naked as-is, I focused not on the furniture arrangement, but on letting go of The Perfectly Organized Minimal Apartment.  I wanted to give up my need to control the items in my home, a losing battle anyway.

I took my Netbook from its shelf in the Super Closet and set it up on my dining room table, where it shall stay.  Now it’s ready for action at the simple push of a button.  I’ve given up the perfect stack of books on my mantle and now keep them nonchalantly next to my Netbook.  I’ve converted my fruit bowl into an electronic gizmo holder (for my headphones and external DVD drive) so they’re within easy reach.  I’ve evicted my bananas from the fruit bowl and thrown them onto my kitchen counter.  

When I read, I like to bury myself under my thick quilt and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.  As you could guess, I stored my quilt in the Super Closet, next to my electronics.  Now it’s neatly folded when not in use, but it stays slung over the back cushions.  How lovely – and simple – it is to come home, grab a book, and snuggle into my couch. 

I have two pairs of shoes that I wear 99% of the time.  Their home is now at the front door because, really, does it make sense to drag them back to the closet when I know I’ll need them the next morning? 

Like setting the stage of a play, we must set the stage of our lives. 

I converted my table into a writing spot.  I made my couch a fluffy reading nook.  I put my shoes at the door.  I made these changes because I want my life to be about writing, reading, and being able to run out the door at a moment’s notice. 

In the process of narrowing in on these activities, I further minimized my drawers and closets of stuff that no longer provides happiness or purpose.  Setting the stage gives way to purging useless props.  Some items I got rid of:

• My Bluetooth headset because I rarely talk on the phone. 
• Memory sticks for my laptop because I save docs to “the cloud”. 
• Library books.  I often check too many library books out at one time (a seemingly impossible thing to do, I once thought) and reduced my stack to four.  I returned those books that were just “time wasters”, though a good time waster, if you ask me.  As I set my stage for writing this summer, though, they’re superfluous.   

If you’re looking to simplify your own home, ask yourself first, what do you want to do there?  How can your home support who you are and what you love?  If you paint, are your brushes placed somewhere they can anxiously await your hand?   If you cook, are your spices arranged so that grabbing one is convenient?  Also be honest about what you don’t want to do in your home.  If you aren’t into cooking, be honest about it, and donate your bread maker.  If you don’t like reading, donate your Louis L’Amour collection.  You may have a nicely set stage (gorgeous kitchen, full bookshelf), but if it’s for the wrong play (wrong life), it doesn’t make sense.  Setting up what IS important energizes you, just by seeing your home as a reflection of who you REALLY are.

As I mentioned in a recent post, sometimes I daydream about driving a Roadster through Manitou Springs.  Or reading Voltaire in Paris’s Tuileries Garden.  What I didn’t mention, and will admit to now, is that I sometimes daydream about Mr. Peanut Butter – a fictional, minimalist gentleman who appreciates the beauty of the peanut butter & jelly lifestyle.  A man who shuns knickknacks as I shun furniture, knows the phrase “100 Things Challenge”, and is capable of writing a love letter (because I’m seduced best by the written word).  The Mr. Darcy of the Minimalist World.  The Spider-Man of Simplicity.

Today, January 20th of 2011, I found Mr. Peanut Butter!  It’d be really great if he knew I existed, but one thing at a time, hm? 

I’ve fallen in love with Joshua Millburn.  Yeah, that’s right, in love!  And I think you should fall in love with him, too. 

Although I was immediately smitten for the fella, I knew it was true love when I read his post Everything I Own: My 288 Things.  Scroll down and you’ll find a picture of his brick-exposed loft.  Not one piece of clutter in sight.  Hardwood floors, elegant simplicity, modern design.  Gorgeous!  Scroll down farther and you’ll see a perfectly aligned collection of his dress shirts - OCD-style – just like me.  He’s even a fiction writer .  I never knew that men like this actually existed.  I’ve read about them, but…  Well, I just never knew it could be true.

Joshua Millburn is a minimalist extraordinaire.  He writes a blog with his best friend, Ryan Nicodemus, called The Minimalists.  You may have seen their 3-part essays floating around on becoming minimalist, Exile Lifestyle, and Castles in the Air.  Go check ‘em out – But guard your hearts, fellow single ladies.

Usually being naked is a bad thing.  A little chilly in the wintertime.  It can get you arrested.  Although jail could be an adventure, so maybe being naked is a good thing.  I’ll leave you to decide :) . 

I’ve found that a naked home, though, is a wonderful experience.  While I don’t think everyone should have a completely empty apartment like mine, I’d like to wax poetic a little on why I love my naked abode.  Where there’s only a couch and a small dining table.

1. Bye-bye dusting!
2. Less to organize.
3. Nothing ever gets lost – there’s nowhere to hide.
4. When there’s an unexpected knock on the door, there’s no mad dash to shove everything into the closet.  There’s nothing to shove.
5. No compulsive desire to rearrange my furniture…at 3 am.
6. Home is for unwinding, not shuffling things from room to room in an effort to “tidy up”.  These days I just plop onto the couch, crack open a book, and – ahhh – welcome the beauty of boneless relaxation.
7. No need for antique shopping – or spending time searching for home furnishings.
8. Cleaning my apartment – including the scrubbing of my shower – takes less than 30 minutes.
9. No pressure for everything to be “just so”.
10. Mismatched plates from Goodwill are perfectly okay, because who needs anything fancy in a naked apartment? 
11. Although there’s a comfortable place for reading, drinking wine, and generally being lazy, there’s also encouragement to go out and explore the world. 
12. While traveling, there’s no pressure to bring home expensive or superfluous mementos.  No place to display them anyway.
13. Lots of room for dancing around to salsa music.
14. My empty bedroom can be affectionately called the “Yoga Room”.  Totally chichi.
15. Life is focused on experiences, not about what I own.
16. When people I don’t like come to visit, they don’t stay long .
17. No one expects me to host dinner parties.
18. Complete lack of clutter gives me energy.
19. Moving is a breeze.
20. Anything is possible, since I can fit my entire material life into the trunk of my car.
21. No desire or pressure to keep up with the Jones’s – I’ve already clearly lost that battle. 
22. A naked apartment expresses my eccentricity, which encourages me to express my other crazy tendencies.
23. No fear of being robbed.  No need for house sitters.
24. Money formerly burned on bookends, extra towels, another end table, is now spent on dinners with friends, road trips, hiking gear, and lots of Shiraz.
25. Because your home – and life – should be exactly as you want to design it.  And I like it naked (the non- “Can you bail me outta jail?” kinda naked!)

Recently I perused the statistics for my blog, curious as to how people find me and what my readers are searching for.  One of the top – daily! – searches involved some phrase related to “living without TV”.  Interesting.  Last March I wrote about my life sans TV in this post.  Seeing such an interest, I thought I’d expound on the topic.

I don’t believe that television is The Devil.  Commercials are undoubtedly evil, but I derive too much pleasure from 30 Rock and Arrested Development to ever call them bad names.  It’s easy to get caught up in TV shows – and movies – and (if you’re me) especially easy to become the victim of National Geographic documentary marathons.  Yum! 

I’ve been without TV for almost two years.  I can tell you that my life is more satisfying as a result.  I use Netflix extensively on my laptop, which I’m willing to admit, without hesitation, is still a form of TV.  Being able to pick and choose what I watch, and when I watch, changes the game, though.  I only watch programs that I’m interested in, at times when I’m craving down time.  For me, TV has become an indulgence – like chocolate or Shiraz – not the constant background noise to my entire life.  TV used to provide me with a false sense of company (easy to do when you live alone), a false connection to humanity, and an escape after work.  Life is infinitely more enjoyable when it’s stripped of anything false – company, connection, escape.

If you’re looking to cut back, or eliminate, TV from your life, here are my suggestions:

1.  Bring home piles of books from the library.  Sign up for Paperback Swap.  Fall into the pages of architectural designs, interior decorating, nature photography, mysteries, the adventures of Harry Potter, hiking guides – or anything that seems compelling.

2.  Start a Movie Night Club.  This may sound like it’s working against the cause, but I think it puts television into its proper place.  By planning a regular Movie Night with friends, you shift the focus from watching TV thoughtlessly.  Instead, you create a connection with other people.  You laugh at Adam Sandler.  You cry with Bridget Jones.  I do this on a monthly basis with my friend Becky.  We cook a themed dinner to match the movie (and a themed drink ) and delight in the magic of cinema.

3.  Develop a hobby that can be done at home.  It’s great to replace TV with exercise, or something equally productive, but what about when it’s wintertime – below zero temperatures, snow on the ground?  What about those times when you want to unwind into an evening of hermitude?  Find a hobby that can be done while lounging in bunny slippers.  Create a blog, write a book, paint landscapes, sketch portraits, learn an instrument, listen to opera (or sing opera!), meditate in the bathtub.  

4.  Take an interest in cooking.  This could be classified as #3 above, but I think it deserves its own category.  We all have to eat, so why not take pleasure from preparing food?  Cooking can be the perfect way to share time with family, or sing to your favorite music, or simply chop/dice/peel in a beautiful silence.  

5.  Take an interest in eating.  Expanding on #4, taking the time to enjoy dinner is one of the most pleasurable substitutes for evening TV.  Eat with friends/family and talk for several hours – don’t forget the vino!  

6.  Invest in some board games.  A little known fact about me is that I rock at Boggle.  It’s impossible to beat me.  Despite my general lack of competitiveness, I become a fighting crossword machine when a Boggle timer starts.  I guarantee that there’s a game out there somewhere that you’ll enjoy playing.  Invite friends over for charades.  Start a weekly Scrabble get-together.  Or simply play crossword puzzles by yourself (preferably while in the bathtub – don’t forget the vino here, either! ).

7.  Love music.  Find music you love listening to.  Music that entrances you.  Music that forces you to do nothing except listen.  How long ago was it that you reclined and let music carry you away?  Listen to hundreds – thousands - of different songs until you find a collection of artists and pieces that make you happy.  Try Italian operas, techno, hip-hop, garage bands from Sweden… 

8.  Maintain friendships.  I’m often disappointed at how little anyone talks on the phone anymore.  Everyone texts - sometimes because they’re also watching TV.  Spend an evening catching up with friends on the phone.  Make it a habit to keep in touch and call your friends regularly.

9.  Build new friendships.  Extend invitations for coffee, wine, or dinner.  It’s not always easy to put yourself out there, but spending an evening with a new friend over a cup of java is infinitely more wonderful than meeting a new character from NBC.

10.  Find a cafe where you can become a “regular”.  A place that calls your name at the end of the day.  Somewhere to be around people, have a conversation with the baristas, crack open a book, or simply watch people walk by.  An after-work destination is something to look forward to, and an alternative to going home to the 6 o’clock sitcoms.

11.  Attend free evening presentations.  There are two places I always check for free talks and special guest speakers – The Tattered Cover (a wonderful independent bookstore) and the Denver Art Museum.  Every month they have authors, curators, and experts giving talks.  They’re fun and, even if I’m not particularly interested in the subject, I always learn something new.

12.  Follow your dream.  Take the extra time you once spent on TV and put it toward something you’ve always wanted to accomplish.  Go back to school.  Learn French.  Enter dance competitions.  Give life meaning.

Back in the days when I owned furniture, I had an impressive assortment of furniture polishes.  Back in the days when I was an obsessive-compulsive cleaning freak – which, admittedly, I still sorta am – I had an equally impressive assortment of cleaning supplies.  I filled an entire hall closet with antibacterial wipes, Windex bottles, bleach, microfiber towels, sponges, squeegees, Ajax, toothbrushes for those itsy-bitsy spots, shower cleaner for the daily “mildew-be-gone”, shower cleaner for the “heavy-duty-take-no-prisoner” sessions, toilet cleaner, oven cleaner, dish soap, floor wax, carpet cleaner….  Like I said, impressive, huh?  On cleaning day, you could walk into my apartment and get a toxic high from all of the chemicals.  The “higher” I got, the more clean I assumed everything was .

Nowadays I have no furniture, thus no need for furniture polish.  There’s a freedom in the furniture-less lifestyle that I can’t explain.  I once used my furniture as therapy sessions, shining each piece mightily to relieve stress.  Now when stressed,  I sit on 700 square feet of empty carpet, eat peanut butter from the jar, and sing Solomon Burke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come”.  Lemme tell ya, peanut butter trumps polish in the stress and happiness categories.

Despite lack of furniture, though, I still have mirrors, sinks, countertops, carpet, and (very friendly) dust bunnies.  I’ve found a way to keep things spiffy while maintaining my minimalist tendencies (that is, my love of empty hall closets).  I can fit all of my cleaning supplies into a caddy that’s accessorized with a convenient carrying handle.  Here’s the one I use, from The Container Store which is really the Obsessive-Compulsive-People’s Heaven Store .

In this caddy I’ve compiled the following materials that suit all of my cleaning needs:

• Swiffer dusters – “Dust is the devil’s snow!”
• Swiffer wet cleaning cloths – for cleaning the linoleum floors
• 2 sponges – one for the kitchen, one for the bathroom
• Paper towels
• Multi-purpose cleaner – used for mirrors, countertops…and everything in between.
• Soft Scrub – because sometimes elbows alone won’t make grout or toilet bowls sparkle. 
• Mr. Clean Erasers – they really ARE magical.

In addition to my hand-held vacuum cleaner and Swiffer stick, I haven’t found a need for anything else.  This list won’t work for everyone, but I’ve found that limiting the amount of cleaning products minimizes cleaning time.  Having everything in one caddy, to be easily brought back and forth between rooms, streamlines the process.  Not having to constantly switch cleansers allows me to grab one bottle, one sponge, and attack a room without hesitation.

As I’m the abovementioned obsessive-compulsive cleaner, I’ve mastered my own cleaning technique.  It goes a little sumpin’ like this:

1. Grab caddy
2. Enter dirty room
3. Work from top to bottom – this usually means starting with dusting above cupboards or in ceiling corners, ending with sweeping/mopping/vacuuming floors.  Allow physics - what goes up must come down – to work FOR you, not AGAINST you. 
4. Pour glass of Sangiovese. 
5. Take nap.

Now you can see why I like cleaning so much – the wine and napping! 

I’ve always been drawn to architecture.  I often stroll through historic neighborhoods, studying doors and shutters, essential pieces that are stunning in their own right.  When I notice a “For Sale” sign in front of a house, I always look to the mailbox.

“Hm, plenty of newspapers piled up.”  I tip-toe up the walkway, and when it’s apparent no one lives there, peek inside.  ”Nice baseboards!” 

I blame this bad habit on my dad, who has the same love of architecture.  When I was a kid, he’d drive us into the countryside of Maine, where we lived for several years.  We’d find open and abandoned farmhouses – of which there are plenty in Maine – overwhelmed with cobwebs, sinking foundations and leaky roofs.  Sitting on the floor boards, a picnic of fried chicken between us, we’d brainstorm the best way to renovate.  We’d choose tile, paint, light fixtures…even furniture.  These are my favorite memories of me and my dad. 

Those afternoons ended the same way.  My dad would give me the Stern Look and say, “Don’t tell your mother.”  Mom always worried we’d get shot for trespassing.  She also frowned upon eating fried foods. 

What always fascinates me about architectural design is the alliance between beauty and function.  As I’ve embraced minimalism, I’ve found myself fascinated by interior design for the same reason.  We need things, whether we’re minimalists or not, and fulfilling that need with something beautiful, something that will be appreciated while also being purposeful, can be satisfying.  Everything in life, after all, should be satisfying.

Whenever I purchase an item, I require three elements from it: practicality, quality, and aesthetic appeal.  My current budget creates restraints, too, so my fourth element is cheap.  I’m Target and IKEA versus Pottery Barn and Ethan Allen.  I’ve discovered, however, that quality and beauty can be found regardless of budget.  Remember, too, if you buy less, your budget allows you to spend more on those few perfect pieces.

As with anything that I become addicted to, I ask, “How can I relate this to minimalism?”  I’ve been working on balancing minimalism AND refinement.  I hate clutter, hyperventilate at the sight of chotskies, and rejoice in owning a mere two pieces of furniture.  While it’s fun to live in an empty apartment – I’d have it no other way – I’ve found a yearning to soften the edges of that emptiness.  Not acquire decorative “stuff”, but arrange things in such a way that allows energy to flow and produces a sense of comfort.  

Here are some considerations for beautifying a minimal home:

 1.  Houseplants. 

They purify the air, add color, and represent life.  Not to mention they’re cheap when you buy them small/young and wait for them to grow.  I prefer terra-cotta pots for their simplicity (and the $0.75 price tag!), but choosing a plant’s pot in a favorite color can put a little “oomph” atop a table or ledge.  I’ve had the best luck with pothos.  They’re practically impossible to kill.  Trust me.  

 2.  Limit focal points and make them useful. 

Oftentimes focal points are large, bulky, and serve absolutely no purpose.  Large vases that are too big to actually hold flowers, baskets that remain empty, coffee tables that are never used (for fear of leaving a mark upon the wood).  Rather than have a dozen things competing for attention, put the spotlight on one thing in each room.  And use it!

          Kitchen:  If you need a place for wooden spoons and spatulas, display a crock on your countertop for these things.  Not just any ol’ crock!  Find a crock – or a vase, Mason jar, water pitcher – that nurtures your visual happiness.  If a crock isn’t your thing – or, like me, you don’t own wooden spoons - invest in something else that’s useful.  Do you have a coffee maker always out and ready for brewing?  Invest in one that’s bright red and stainless steel.  (I like this option from KitchenAid .)

          Bathroom:  Since hands get washed frequently in the bathroom (thoroughly, I hope), a unique soap dispenser can be a great minimalist accessory.  Also, spend an extra few dollars and choose pewter or bronze shower hooks over plastic. ( I think these dragonfly ones are fabulous.)

          Bedroom:  I love Miss Minimalist’s mattress-on-the-floor design.  Empty bedrooms, how I love thee!  The best focal point in a bedroom, in my opinion, is the quilt and pillows.  Even if you choose white linens, go for a rich texture.  Choose the plumpest pillows.  You have to sleep there every night, so make it disgustingly comfortable.  Reconsider the traditional nightstand.  An antique chair to hold your alarm clock can be charming and visually “light”.

           Living Room:  Choose a sofa that looks great without needing throw pillows.  For coffee tables, add a bit of dimension with a small basket to tame remote controls (if you own a TV, that is).  If you’re a reader, stack your books dramatically where they’re easily accessible and noticed.  If you often use your coffee table for eating, playing games, etc., find large floor pillows that serve as extra “chairs”.  Stack them neatly into a corner when not used - voila! - a blast of color and/or texture.

          Dining Room:  I’ve really fallen in love with the fruit bowl.  My previous fruit bowl, donated to Goodwill last year, was bulky and unattractive.  Although I lust after emptiness, dining room tables seem lost when something doesn’t grace their top.  I decided to get another fruit bowl, but this one is sleeker, decorative and useful.  Now my bananas are showcased and always ready for peeling. 

3.  Have one or two things that are UNuseful. 

I don’t believe that everything must be purposeful.  Art doesn’t do anything, but it adds pizzazz.  Art can serve as a representation of your life.  For me, that could be a very large photograph showcasing the Rockies.  For you, that could be an elephant statue purchased during your African safari.  There’s always charm, too, in having a personal photograph somewhere.  One or two pieces of artwork can still keep you in the Minimalist Club. 

4.  Expand your Decorating Hunting Ground.

When I needed silverware, I trolled Goodwill first.  I found a Finnish 5-piece silverware set (exactly what I was looking for) and paid a grand total of $2.25.  That’s what I call minimal!  Thrift shops, craigslist, eBay, flea markets…  Have fun while you’re at it.  Make searching for fruit bowls (or whatever) an adventure with friends.  Just don’t get obsessed with shopping/spending money/chasing after an ideal because that’s certainly NOT minimal. 

5.  Being choosy is powerful.

Whatever choices you make for your home, make sure they’re just that - choices.  YOUR choices.  Pieces that make life simpler, more comfortable, and absolutely gorgeous (whatever that means to you). 

When I renewed my lease this past May, I was required to purchase Renter’s insurance.  I provided my apartment complex with the declarations page, proof that I was covered for the minimum of $15,000 worth of household goods. 

“Total crock,” I muttered, bitter over the $200 annual premium.  Not a ridiculous sum, certainly, but I’d rather spend it on….well, tequila and a road trip (but not drinking tequila while on the road, mind you).  Besides, I don’t own $15,000 worth of household goods.  With the exception of Eddie, I highly doubt my worldly belongings even total $1,000. 

Several weeks ago, I snickered while canceling my policy.  ”Suckers,” I said, basking in triumph.  I’d beaten them at their own game.  How would the apartment managers know that it was canceled?  Apparently, as I found out days later, the insurance company tends to alert said apartment managers.  Getting caught doing something bad is, for lack of a better term, a bummer.

“But I only own a sofa!”  I exclaimed. 

Technically, I do own more than a sofa, but not much more.  In any event, I now have an insurance policy insuring things I don’t own.  How us minimalists suffer… 

This experience made me wonder… What would the world be like if we were all minimalists?  Would we need renter’s insurance?  Probably, since natural disasters occur regardless of how many knickknacks we own.

I don’t really know what a completely minimalist world would look like, but it’s an interesting idea.  Not knowing an answer has never stopped me from sharing my opinion.  Here, then, is how I envision such a world:

1.  We’d talk to each other more.  We’d find ourselves in the midst of community.

When we desire many things, we work longer hours to afford those things.  Working longer hours keeps us from building relationships.  After 50+ hours at the office, when is there time for being part of a community?  All we have time for is being cranky.  We frown at people we pass on the streets, rather than offer a happy “hello”. 

Even if we work the traditional 40-hour week, we’re often consumed with things that provide no joy.  Social commitments that we resent, clutter that must be dusted, fancy clothes to keep up appearances, fast cars to battle the morning commute, relationships that drive us crazy.  We consume and are consumed.

We’re little narcissistic machines, burdened with stress and greed, unable to focus on what’s going on around us.  We’re so busy worrying about our image that we can’t even see those people we’re trying to impress.  We’re alienated from each other.

What if we had what we needed, but left behind the desire to accumulate superfluous stuff?  We’d work just as hard, but less.  What if we ripped off our social mask and said, “Hello, everyone!  It’s me!  I know you’ve never seen me this imperfect, but I’m finally having a great time.  Won’t you join me?”  We’d have one heck of a party with people we don’t need to impress.

We’d have time to partake in those things we love - airplanes, teaching, cooking – and we’d talk about them.  We’d spend time with people who love the same things.  We’d develop meaningful friendships.  We’d spend time with people we simply love, despite our differences.  We’d spend our free time laughing with others.  How can we be miserable after being cleansed with the sound of shared laughter?

We’d be content.  We’d be open and receptive to others, so that wherever we are - the train, waiting in line for a caramel latte – we’d have time to introduce ourselves to the stranger we’re next to.  We’d learn from each other.  We’d make each other smile.  We’d feel good just being around other human beings.

2.  We’d have more compassion.  We’d love without reservation.  We’d find ourselves in other people.  We’d help.  We’d get those little goosebumps down our arms, that universal sign that we’re doing what’s right.

I believe compassion cures most human foibles.  How can we cultivate compassion?  By giving up our painfully maintained superficial image, halting our search for perfection, refusing to compete with our neighbor.  Then we could look at people – not for the clothes they wear, the cars they drive, the job title they assume – and really see them.  And what we’ll inevitably see is that we’re all the same.  Sure, we appreciate different aspects of life, but we are universal within.  Who among us has not experienced pain, loss, heartbreak, disappointment?  Who among us has not also felt joy, accomplishment, excitement, peace? 

When we see others as ourselves, how can we not love them?  How can we not extend our hand?  We’d suddenly be compelled to listen and understand. We’d champion and protect each other.  We’d move together in harmony. 

3.  We’d move deliberately.  We’d experience life.

When have you actually experienced life? 

When I moved to Colorado, I bit my nails the entire 2,000 miles.  I hit the steering wheel.  I was dizzy with doubt.  “What am I doing?!  Am I crazy?!” 

Yes, I was crazy.  And when I saw the Rockies, I bawled my eyes out with unrestrained excitement.  I was alive. 

On my 27th birthday, I hooked myself into bungee jumping gear at the Royal Gorge in Canon City.  Looking down into the thousands of feet I’d be soaring into, I turned to the guy double-checking my harness.  “I’m going to puke,” I told him.

He laughed.  “Well, do it down there, will ya?” He said, gesturing to the canyon. 

I stepped from safety, my body instantly weightless.  Palms sweaty, nerves crackling, breath gone.  I spread my arms and screamed bloody murder.  It was awesome.

Last Monday, I went on a short hike after work.  Raindrops, left behind from the afternoon storm, dripped from the pines.  I ran up the trail, just in time to see the sun melt into Pikes Peak.  Fatigued yet exhilarated, I closed my eyes and felt the wind cool my face.  I was muddy and generally disgusting, yet at the sight of such beauty, I felt beautiful.

If you’re so inclined, please comment and tell me when YOU experienced life.  Tell me when you were overwhelmed with life.  When your fear brought tears, but you knew you were doing the right thing.  When you laughed so hard that your belly ached.  When you said, “I’ve had enough!”.  When you swore to yourself, “I absolutely will _____” and followed through.  When you said, voice trembling, “I love you”.  When you did something for someone else, without them ever knowing.

When we’re unencumbered in every way – a minimalist – we’re able to live.  We discover who we are.  We live life, not from the sidelines, but from the field.  We’re daring.  We’re forces of spunk.  Just getting up every morning is a pretty exciting prospect. 

If everyone were excitied to wake up every morning, well, that’d be pretty amazing.  We’d experience every moment.  We’d tremble with excitement.  We’d shine with health and vitality.

4.  We’d save the world. 

Consuming less would relieve the strain on this gorgeous earth.  The place we call Mother Earth, a land that nurtures us and fills us with wonder.  We’d drive less – in our cars, our ambitions, our greed - because we wouldn’t have to travel far (literally or figuratively) to be happy.  We’d appreciate clean air, organic foods, and the beauty of nature because we’d be attuned to our senses.  We’d take the time to breathe, taste, and watch the rain fall.

5.  We’d structure our cities to support life.  We could make a living from our passions.

If we suddenly had the time to paint, to run, and to read, our cities would need to support that.  Rather than large shopping centers, we’d redesign our space to include art studios, parks, and extensive libraries.  We’d need more artists to teach us how to paint.  We’d demand more books, thus more writers. 

Certainly there are other things that would happen in a completely minimalist world, but doesn’t minimalism suddenly seem very exciting?  What’s even more exciting is that we can experience these things without “converting” everyone.  Being a minimalist, even if you’re one of a million, is enough.  You can see the world this way, even if no one else does.  You can treat everyone with compassion and live passionately, even if that’s the unpopular choice.  Everyone will wonder what the heck makes you so happy – and, hopefully, will follow suit.

I’m reminded of Gandhi’s famous quote:

You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

I’d write more about this, but I’m off to watch the rain from my balcony, reveling in how amazing my minimalist life is, right before I say “howdy” to Neighbor #5 (who’s still protecting Building 6 from his own balcony), and then I’m going to get a good night’s sleep.  Because, after all, just getting up tomorrow is absolutely exciting.

I’ve been following miss minimalist’s blog (recently revealed to her readers as Francine Jay) since she began chronicling her plans to move overseas, which required a downsizing adventure that I can only dream about.  If you haven’t visited her site yet, get over there!  When she recently published her book, The Joy of Less, I eagerly awaited my copy.  If it were anything like her blog, I’d be in for a treat.  And I certainly was!

These words from her introduction encompass what the book is all about:

We’ll learn how to see our stuff for what it is, and weaken any power it may hold over us; and discover the freedom of living with just “enough” to meet our needs.  We’ll even get a little philosophical, and ponder how our new minimalism will enrich our lives and effect positive change in the world.

She begins her book with the philosophical aspect of decreasing our belongings.  “… you are not what you own,” she writes.  Describing the freedom that minimalism allows – less stress, detachment, mobility - she maps out a journey toward dramatically simplifying life.  She makes minimalism attainable for the average person.  Attainable and a worthy pursuit.  Not only because we’re happier when we can quantify our personal definition of “enough”, but because minimalism creates a sustainable world.  Consider these words, written from Chapter 10, which is titled “Live simply, so that others may simply live”:

How can we guarantee that there’s enough food, water, land, and energy to go around?  By not using any more of it than we need.  Because for every “extra” we take, someone else (now, or in the future) will have to do without.  That “extra” may not add significantly to our well-being, but to someone else, it may be a matter of life and death.

Part Two gets into the nitty-gritty of releasing your physical belongings, all of those things that go beyond “enough”.  She doesn’t suggest that you live an austere life, rather she supports knowing what “enough” is for you.  She introduces her “STREAMLINE” minimizing method – each letter of this word stands for an important step to breaking apart the seemingly daunting task of minimizing.  These chapters reveal numerous tips, including:

• Minimizing an area by emptying it out - completely!  Resisting the temptation to declutter around items that you’ll “just put… right back”.  We often dismiss items as permanent fixtures without thinking of whether they serve a purpose.
• Creating “zones” and “circles” in your home.  Organizing your things in a way that relates to how often they’re used.  Placing items that are used daily within easy reach….which then means they’re easy to put back in its place.  “A place for everything and everything in its place” is a simple philosophy, but only when “its place” makes sense.
• Establishing limits for achieving minimal and keeping minimal.
• Miniaturizing items – memorabilia, for example – in creative ways so they’re easier to store.

Of course, these tips are written in-depth with specific ways to implement them.  After describing each step to “STREAMLINE”-ing, she takes you through each room in your house and applies them.  Bedroom, living room, bathroom, etc.  Nothing is overlooked, even for the worst pack-rack. 

Although I’ve been an extreme minimalist for over a year now, I still love reading books about “minimizing” and “simplifying life”.  There’s a joy in reading something that validates my lifestyle.  I expected to enjoy Miss Minimalist’s book, but I was rather shocked to learn things that I’d never before considered.  Things that make life more minimal (even for me!)….and that makes me more happy .

My favorite tip that I absolutely love, but never before thought about?  The “narrow it down” portion of the “STREAMLINE” method.  This includes making everything as multi-functional as possible.  Multi-functional furniture, multi-functional clothing, etc.  Each thing owned should serve more than one purpose.  I’ve already started going through my things, considering how to combine two items into one.  As I consider future purchases, I’ll also seek items that serve as many functions as possible.

Written with her signature writing style, clear yet warm, the book is intended for people willing to get down to business.  People who want to simplify the heck out of their lives.  There’s also a dash of Thoreauvian philosophy and her own thoughts regarding the future of consumerism (“minsumerism” as she calls it).  Even if you aren’t ready to chuck your stuff and reconsider your overfilled schedule, this book will create pause for contemplation.  Whether you’re a master minimalist, a curious clutter-bug, or a seeking simplifier, there’s motivation for us all within these pages.  A. Great. Book.

If you’re interested in getting your own copy, click here for a link from her blog.

Whenever I hear the words ”radical” and/or “experiment”, my ears immediately perk up.  “What’s this you say?” I ask, ready and willing to take part.  Immediately .  It was no surprise, then, that I became fascinated by an article from The New York Times. 

(Click here to read.)

Several people – of both genders, in different countries - explain their reasons for adapting a wardobe of only 6 pieces.  A “shopping diet” that each person committed to for one month.  Each had their own reasons, from shunning consumerism, saving money, and simply worrying less about the ever-stressful question, “What shall I wear?”  

Cool, huh?