Getting Our House in Order

With a milestone anniversary upcoming for Linda and I, we were reminiscing the other day about our minimalist journey and how an important event for us along the way was a church sponsored “Getting Your House in Order” seminar that we attended the first year of our marriage. Its central message was to live within your means and stay out of debt, which we have endeavored to live by ever since.

As a result of it, we sold Linda’s car to pay off mine in anticipation of us attending Bible school, which we both attended full time while each working part time. It was a wise move, since our bank balance got as low as six cents at one point and I worked a variety of odd jobs to help make ends meet. We may not have called it minimalism but we lived it before it was a trend. And thus when our car was totaled in an accident we were able to pay cash for another one.

Speaking of biblical principles, pastor Adam Hamilton points out: “The word prodigal does not mean someone who wanders away or is lost. The word prodigal literally means ‘one who wastes money.’ A prodigal wastes money and is a spendthrift.” At the opposite end of the spectrum is the example of Henry David Thoreau, who ran a farm and built a house with outbuildings for $36.78, of which $28.12 was for his famous cabin on Walden Pond.

As author Susan Cheever writes in American Bloomsbury, “Walden is a masterpiece, but it is generally cited more than it is read. The mention of Walden in polite society inevitably elicits great praise. ‘My favorite book,’ someone says. Or ‘I live by that book.’ What they mean is that they know about the book and take it to be a handbook for the simpler life they might want to lead, if they ever got tired of making money and going to parties.” Say “Amen” or “Ouch”!

Traveling Light

Linda and I have strived to live simply our entire marriage, not just since we sold our house a dozen years ago. And with no kids, pets, or even plants to attend to, we are about as foot-loose-and-fancy-free as a couple could get. So, as Linda has a work sabbatical next year we are planning how to spend that six week break from the ordinary, including whether or not to try RV’ing for a spell.

We enjoyed the six months or so we spent during our “radical sabbatical” on Nantucket after first selling our house but this will be our first extended period of travel together since and we are contemplating how light to travel. As we had to buy furniture to move into our place here in Lexington there is that to consider. Renewing our lease here again next year is an option we are leaning toward one way or the other.

During the gap year [and a half] that I took between my junior and senior years of college I moved from Virginia to Massachusetts back to Virginia to Florida and back to Virginia again to finish my degree. And the only furniture I bought during my year in Florida was a thirty dollar couch that doubled as my bed. Somehow I managed to fit everything else I needed, including my bicycle, into my hand-me-down Cadillac with miles well into the six figures.

Regular readers will recall I wrote about my daily carry here and as the above photo attests, my journal even sports the theme of “traveling light.” As most of us do, each time I leave home I ask myself if I have non-negotiables such as my keys, wallet, phone, and glasses. And I love a verse from The Message: “Travel light. Comb and toothbrush and no extra luggage.”

No post on this topic would be complete without a reference to our friend Henry David Thoreau, who stated: “It is desirable that a man…live in all respects so compactly and preparedly that, if an enemy take the town, he can, like the old philosopher, walk out the gate empty-handed without anxiety.” We may not be quite there yet, but Linda and I do pack a couple of emergency bags for quick exit if necessary.

And speaking of Thoreau, Henry S. Salt wrote of Thoreau’s travels in Life of Henry David Thoreau: “His pack was quickly made up, for he kept a list of the few necessaries that he carried, among which were sewing materials, a book for pressing plants, spy-glass, compass, and measuring-tape…Thus simply equipped, he was practically independent of time-tables and hotel-lists [and] could roam wherever the fancy took him.”

Think Small

Since my last post titled “A Quiet Life” apparently resonated with so many of you, I was inspired to follow it with a similarly themed one here. And as I was pondering a title I was reminded of the popular campaign for the once-revolutionary Volkswagen Beetle, which debuted with the catchy slogan of “Think Small” [as pictured above]. 

As I mentioned in the last post, “don’t let words like quiet and ordinary steer you away from living a meaningful life.” And the word small is another one of those that people tend to belittle, if you’ll pardon the pun. But upon closer reflection, I have come to realize that it may really describe the lifestyle of minimalism perfectly. 

For Linda and I, the journey of living large with less literally started with thinking small, as we asked ourselves, “How little can we actually learn to live with?” From there we engaged the process of paring our possessions down to the point that we were able to move here to Maine [five years ago today] with all our stuff packed into a Nissan Rogue. 

As Twitter co-founder Biz Stone writes in his memoir, Things a Little Bird Told Me, “People think of constraint as giving something up instead of gaining something…Embrace constraint. What you get in return is the art and craft of editing your own life.” And I might add that what you end up with is a curated life of quality instead of a cluttered one of quantity.  

Whether or not you and yours ever aspire to radically downsize your lives at least be willing to consider how you might lessen the loads of stuff you own in order to live more freely and lightly. I venture to say that once you try to simplify your life even a little you will quickly discover that thinking small can pay large dividends for you and your loved ones. 

Mindfulness and Minimalism

I majored in marketing at university and one of the tenets drilled into us was the difference between features and benefits. Consumers care about features but they buy based on benefits. And as it relates to minimalism, one of the biggest benefits in our book is the clearance of headspace, or bandwidth, for better decision making. It is true: a cluttered life is the sign of a cluttered mind.

As artist Jenny Odell writes in How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, “If it’s attention (deciding what to pay attention to) that makes our reality, regaining control of it can also mean the discovery of new worlds and new ways of moving through them….It can open doors where we didn’t see any, creating landscapes in new dimensions that we can eventually inhabit with others.”

All of which is to say: garbage in, garbage out. And part and parcel of clearing out the clutter from our consciousness is decluttering the detritus from our lives. Reducing the stuff you own literally helps you to rethink your beliefs and redesign your lifestyle accordingly. One of the biggest compliments I have gotten about our journey came from a fellow artist recently, who commented, “It is remarkable how much your philosophy and lifestyle align.”

But trust me: it did not happen overnight! While we feel that living at a lighthouse epitomizes our lifestyle philosophy, it came about by a steady series of conscientious choices. And the key to jumpstarting our journey was visualizing an ideal lifestyle and adopting the motto of “minimize to mobilize.” Suffice it to say that until we embrace a new way of thinking, we can never experience a new way of living.

I cannot help but agree with renowned travel writer Pico Iyer, who states in The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere, “Simplifying one’s life to extract its quintessence is the most rewarding of all the pursuits I have undertaken.” So, I encourage each of you to clear the clutter from your mind and life until you experience the contentment that comes with being satisfied with your contents.

The Upside of Downsizing

Here is a radical truth that minimalists realize sooner than most: We don’t need more space, we need less stuff! When pressed for space the default move for most people is to shop for a bigger home or lease a storage unit instead of getting rid of excess stuff. But the better option is to lessen our possessions and limit our purchases moving forward. 

Statistics reveal that the average residential floor space PER person in America is 832 square feet. However, our living space for the TWO of us is about that. The average size of a new apartment in America is now 934 square feet, about one-third the size of the average new house, but it is still a couple hundred square feet larger than our present place. 

Unlike many Americans, we have never paid for storage space, have not used a U-Haul to move since becoming minimalists eight years ago, and moved here to Maine with everything we owned in our Nissan Rogue. Our approximately 800 square feet of space is not only adequate but ample for us. Utilizing two smallish storage closets and a walk-in clothes closet, we don’t need to store any extra stuff in the available attic or cellar spaces. 

Not only is less space more affordable but it is also easier to clean and maintain. We have lived in spaces ranging from about 400 square feet to 1400 square feet, and our current home represents a sweet spot in between. Contrary to popular opinion, living large with less is doable! And until lately, it is how most Americans lived. For example, I will never forget meeting the former owner of a 900-square-foot house we leased and learning that his family of FIVE once lived there. 

For us, minimalism has never been about organizing our sock drawers (though they are neat and tidy). We are very organized and love it, but in our book, owning less trumps organizing more. Being neat is no substitute for not owning unnecessary stuff in the first place. I cannot stress how much minimizing our possessions frees us from “stuffocation.” If you ever feel like your stuff is overwhelming the space you call home, do yourself a favor and experience “the upside of downsizing!”

Living the Minimalist Life

One of the questions Linda and I are asked about our minimalist lifestyle is how we afford to “live large with less.” For starters, that is a somewhat prying question to ask of anyone, as it presumes that one has problems making ends meet, which we do not. And it is actually a misguided question for it likewise assumes that the minimalist life is necessarily an expensive one. The reality is that minimalism actually affords one significant overall cost savings with its emphasis on frugal living and conscientious consumption. 

And from a personal perspective, we intentionally choose to live by faith more than most people are comfortable with. It is our experience that if we want to enjoy the fruits of an unconventional lifestyle we need to be willing to do what others are unwilling to do. As minimalism is by definition countercultural, it requires a type of discipline others often lack. Yet daily exercising faith in a faithful God has served us extremely well for half a century and resulted in a lifestyle above and beyond our wildest dreams. 

As an example, while Linda and I are middle aged, we have been blessed with good health and so we opt not to purchase what has become outrageously expensive health insurance. I will not delve into all the details of dealing with this sensitive issue here, but suffice it to say that this is people’s number one query about our minimalist experience. I must add that this is a very personal decision and we are not suggesting that it suits everyone else’s situation.

Regarding other practical matters, we share one vehicle between us, and have done so for about 28 of our 30+ years of marriage. And we are on our third lease, which is one of the best financial decisions we have ever made. While it may not appeal to others, we have thoroughly enjoyed the leasing experience, as the peace of mind that comes with driving a warrantied vehicle is well worth any trade-offs in our book. What is more, I am able to work remotely and chauffer Linda to work most days, especially now that we live about an hour away. 

Another cost-cutting move we have recently made is “cutting the cord” and getting rid of a costly cable television subscription. With the move to our relatively remote lighthouse location, we decided that the time had come for us to simplify our lives even further and use this opportunity to spend more time in our natural setting while saving money in the process. And not incidentally, we look forward to using our newfound time for creative pursuits instead of consuming mediated experiences. For us, “living large with less” is a lifestyle of liberty!

Digital Minimalism

Okay people, the end is nigh. According to the New York Times, Wing, the drone-delivery unit of Google’s parent company, Alphabet, has received the Federal Aviation Administration’s first approval to use drones to carry and deliver packages commercially. And one of the most commonly delivered products in a test to date? Coffee. So, I guess we can all look forward to getting our caffeine buzz from a buzzing drone!

Even as Linda and I prepare to move into our circa 1895 light keeper’s house here in mid-coast Maine we are trying to decide how much technology to allow into our historic abode. In an effort to limit the number of gadgets I need to upgrade, charge up, sync up, back up, and update, I recently donated an old iPod and iPad to local charities. And while we need high-speed internet to work from home we are debating about whether or not to finally “cut the cord” and forego cable television.

In his latest book Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World, author and professor Cal Newport calls for what he describes as “a philosophy of technology use in which you focus your online time on a small number of carefully selected and optimized activities that strongly support things you value, and then happily miss out on everything else.” 

Another person who is doing just that happens to be New York Times book editor Pamela Paul, who states her philosophy in the article “Save Your Sanity. Downgrade Your Life.” as she writes, “And so, I resist. I downgrade, I discard, I decline to upgrade. More than a decade ago, I got rid of cable TV, then network TV. I cut out personal phone calls (unless the person is a continent away), then anything other than businesslike emails. If I want to catch up with a good friend or a family member, I wait until we actually see each other.”

As for dealing with more recent iterations of technological gadgetry, Paul likewise practices abstinence: “Never got a Nook, a Kindle, an iPad, don’t want them. Until quite recently, I thought Alexa was a joke, a wild, hypothetical Orwellian item that might one day be foisted upon the world, not something that anyone might actually desire, pay for and willingly allow into her home.” Amen to that!

Besides getting rid of our older Apple devices we also are planning to dispense with our Kindle Paperwhite, as Linda does not read e-books and I much prefer printed ones myself. And I was elated to learn the other day those dastardly drones are not allowed on lighthouse property so that is one less nuisance for us to deal with. I usually brew my own coffee but I will walk to the general store if I need a cup of joe, thank you very much. 

And while I am on my soapbox, it thrilled me no end to see that the venerable Masters golf tournament is maintaining tradition as the sole major tourney to ban cell phone usage by its patrons. Suffice it to say that is one tradition worth upholding. Now, if we can just keep them out of movie theaters that would be a welcome break.   

Moving the Minimalist Way

As it turns out, it was nine years ago today that our former neighbor’s ancient oak tree hit our house, which is largely what propelled us on our minimalist journey. And as we prepare for our upcoming move to the light keeper’s house I thought it might be helpful to share some of our experiences with moving the minimalist way.

For starters, ever since we sold our home and liquidated our furnishings eight years ago, we have intentionally avoided the use of a U-Haul, instead simply fitting our belongings into our vehicle (and maybe making a handful of trips) to move. Our record minimalist move was fitting our stuff into a Volvo convertible for our move to Nantucket and unpacking all of it in a couple of hours.

When it comes to larger items, such as furnishings, multifunctionality is the key. For example, we use a couple of collapsible ottomans/coffee tables/storage chests. And we just bought a couple of foldable chairs and tables that we also can fit easily into our Rogue crossover. As our new digs are unfurnished, we are getting our new bed and sofa delivered but other than that we will be toting the rest of our stuff ourselves.

Albert Einstein, arguably one of the smartest humans ever, famously reported, “A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin; what else does a man need to be happy?” And it was none other than Henry David Thoreau who stated, “I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society.”

What is more, Laura Dassow Walls writes in Henry David Thoreau: A Life : “There in his house would be everything needed, and nothing more…Thoreau’s needs were ludicrously simple…For kitchenware he had a kettle, a skillet, a frying pan…three plates, two knives, two forks, one spoon, and a cup.” And it was with such basic utensils that Thoreau was able to craft a simple life and change the world with his writings.

Finally, author Louise DeSalvo describes poet Elizabeth Bishop in her book On Moving: A Writer’s Meditations on New Houses, Old Haunts, and Finding Home Again: “Bishop loved to live in ‘temporary homes by the sea.’ They brought back the ease she’d sometimes felt in Nova Scotia. She liked the simplification, improvisation, and community these places could provide. ‘You live in this Robinson Crusoe atmosphere,’ she wrote, ‘…contriving and inventing…’ When visiting seaside places, Bishop wrote more.”

And writing more is what I hope to achieve at our “temporary home by the sea.” Surveys report that moving is listed by many people as one of the most stressful activities one experiences; however, by intentionally living light and moving the minimalist way much of that stress can be mitigated. Wherever you are on your journey, consider packing and traveling light yourself!

Fewer, Better Things

With a nod to the holiday song (and Oprah Winfrey) I’d like to suggest identifying your favorite things as one year turns to another. As a minimalist, I savor good design and I’d like to think that is reflected in the objects I purchase. One of the principles I try to practice when purchasing new things is thinking in terms of a final solution, so that an investment in quality pays long-term dividends. 

Being willing to invest in quality goods has not necessarily come naturally to me but I am gradually learning to prioritize design aesthetics when it comes to purchasing decisions. And the more diligence we exercise in the research phase of shopping the more satisfied we are likely to be with our selections. 

An unanticipated upside of the minimalist lifestyle for Linda and I has been the pleasure of using fewer but better things. In the book I am reading along these lines author Glenn Adamson writes expertly in Fewer, Better Things: The Hidden Wisdom of Objects about the aesthetics of quality objects and the attention that goes into creating them. 

“The reason we have too many unsatisfying objects in our lives is that we don’t care enough about any single one of them,” suggests Adamson. One of the ironies of living large with less is that the fewer things we own the more we appreciate the favorites that we possess. And the more we are willing to invest in the few objects that we choose to purchase. 

The Minimalist Journey

As a longtime minimalist I find it helpful to be reminded that minimalism is a journey, and an often circuitous one. None of us got to where we are overnight and we need to pace ourselves because the race of life is a marathon not a sprint. With that said, I think many people underestimate the volume of their possessions and overestimate what is necessary to reduce it. As the old adage goes, “you eat an elephant one bite at a time,” so start simply.  

While Linda and I have always lived a relatively simple lifestyle, it was only when we sold our house to become more mobile that we took greater strides toward radically downsizing our stuff. Until that time, it wasn’t really necessary, as the two of us lived amply in a 1,400-square-foot, three-bedroom, two-bath home with a two-car garage and plenty of attic space. But when it came time to tackle our largess, we methodically yet ruthlessly processed each item we owned. 

And the key here was our process. We thoughtfully examined all the areas of our home, from the attic above our garage to the space under our beds, and we touched every object before deciding whether nor not it fit into our newly envisioned lives. If it required extra thought we simply placed it aside until we were prepared to part with it, but not on an indefinite basis. Remember: the paralysis of analysis can derail your minimalist journey!

As I have shared before, our mantra was “minimize to mobilize,” and that was the lens we looked through to lighten our load, but I highly recommend adopting your own gauge for getting rid of excess stuff. For us booklovers, donating the vast majority of our sizable library moved our minimalist journey into high gear. Once that milestone was reached, it was all downhill from there. And neither of us regrets what we have jettisoned on our journey. 

Economist Jack Lessinger reminds aspiring minimalists: “I recommend that people rid themselves of nonessentials, acquisitions that clutter life rather than enrich it. Examine your real needs rather than those foisted upon you. When you buy, buy to enhance your life, not just for the sake of buying or to keep up with the Joneses.”  I might add it is also not necessary to compete with fellow minimalists in an effort to achieve “peak minimalism.” 

And lest we think that even Thoreau was the model for minimalism, biographer Laura Dassow Walls suggests otherwise: “They err entirely who suppose that he counselled everyone to build hermitages in the woods, break with society and live on meal. This he distinctly disavows, but makes a plea for simple and brave living, not drowned in the details.” So, enjoy your own minimalist journey!

Limiting Planned Obsolescence

No, the stack of iPhones pictured above is not mine but it represents several iterations of the popular smartphone since its launch almost a dozen years ago. During that time Linda and I have owned exactly TWO of those models: the iPhone 5 that we bought in 2012 and the iPhone SE that we bought this year right before Apple discontinued it. And we kept the former as a backup for the latter since it still works okay.

Now, I am a longtime user of Apple gadgets and have owned more than a dozen of their devices over as many years, including four iPhones, three Macs, three iPods, two iPads, one Apple TV, and several other peripherals. And as anyone who owns Apple stuff knows, it does not come cheap. So that is why Linda and I still own and use eleven of the thirteen products listed above, some from as long ago as 2005. 

Okay, so why am I sharing this here? Because as a minimalist, I think it is important to resist the materialist pressures (from producers and peers) to continually consume more and more stuff. While we may not be able to stop companies such as Apple from building planned obsolescence into their product cycles we can limit its influence upon our purchasing decisions by refusing to participate in the scheme. And quit trying to keep up with the Joneses!

According to Wikipedia, planned obsolescence is the policy of designing a product with an artificially limited useful life so it will become obsolete after a certain period of time. The rationale behind the strategy is to increase sales volume by reducing the time between repeat purchases. And it tends to work best when a company has a superior market position like Apple does with its pricey gadgets. 

In his book The Waste Makers, social critic Vance Packard outlined the three prongs of planned obsolescence. The first is obsolescence of function and the second is obsolescence of quality, neither of which is necessarily applicable to Apple. But it is the third variety of planned obsolescence we must face: the obsolescence of desirability. This refers to the intentional process of making the newest version of a product marginally more desirable than its predecessors.

The Waste Makers was written more than 50 years ago, but it is as potent today as it ever was. As Packard presciently observed, “All the emphasis on style tends to cause the product designers and public alike to be preoccupied with the appearance of change rather than the real values involved” [emphasis mine]. And he delivered that warning long before Apple sold more than one billion iPhones, as it has to date, or became the first trillion-dollar company. So, shop wisely!

Living the (Un)American Dream

Here I am donning my blogging hat after a brief hiatus. And it is just in time for that most American of holidays, our national Independence Day. With that thought in mind, I am writing about our family’s continued pursuit of the decidedly unAmerican dream of living large with less. As Admiral Richard E. Byrd suggested, “Half the confusion in the world comes from not knowing how little we need.” So, even as we celebrate our freedoms may we realize that life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are about more than accumulating more stuff. 

I love a Latin phrase I recently learned: modus vivendi. It refers to a mode of living or way of life. And it is no secret that for me and my household that means the lifestyle of minimalism. It is in direct opposition to the cultural norm of consumerism that is so rampant in western culture, and especially so here in America. Theologian A.W. Tozer stated it brilliantly: “Secularism, materialism, and the intrusive presence of things have put out the light in our souls and turned us into a generation of zombies.”

And if there is any visual that aptly describes our current culture, it is that of sleepwalking through life. Seduced by the glow of our electronic screens, we lumber about in a state of slumber. Thus, my research continues to delve into the topics of aspiration, affluence, and other issues of acquisition in our society’s ever-growing quest for meaning amidst all the mind-numbing materialism. And in the process, I’ve discovered a couple of thought-provoking gems that I think strike at the heart of what ails us as twenty-first century Americans.  

InThe Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class by Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, she declares: “America has cultivated a consumption-driven lifestyle and subsequently stretched itself to achieve it. Many Americans, aligning consumerism with the American Dream (emphasis mine), continue penniless along this track. As countless news articles have documented, other than the top economic echelons of society, everyone is struggling and unable to achieve the American Dream—whatever that is these days—without massive amounts of debt.”  

And philanthropist Arthur Simon writes in How Much Is Enough: Hungering for God in an Affluent Culture: “The person who is preoccupied with mammon focuses on microscopic bits of the earth: a piece of property, a position, a bank account, a house, a closet full of clothes. Even the richest of the rich, or the most powerful of the powerful, garner a pathetically small fraction of the earth. They can become so engrossed in possessing what they call ‘mine’ that they lose sight of the fact that they are stewards, not owners.” Live the (Un)American Dream. 

Lessons Learned

This past weekend we had friends visit us from Florida whom we had not seen since we moved from there a half dozen years ago. And as we were giving them the tour of our new home state of Maine, I found myself sharing lessons we had learned on our minimalist journey in the meantime. So I thought it might be useful to share them here in the hopes of helping all of you with your own journey toward living large with less. In no particular order here are some of the top of mind lessons we learned along the way:

You are not your stuff. If we are not careful, items we own can become idols in our lives. The curation of our collections can lend itself to fetishizing some things, i.e. Apple devices such as iPods, iPhones, iPads, etc. I enjoy my gadgets as much as the next guy, but I try to remind myself that life was good before I got them and I could survive without them.  

Limits are your friends. Adopting limits re: stuff enables us to stop the flow of it into our lives. For example, limiting the amount of an item we own works wonders, e.g. identifying a couple of our favorite drinking mugs, etc. keeps us from buying others unnecessarily. One of my favorite feelings in the world is walking into a store knowing that there is likely nothing I need there.

Experiences trump expenditures. The linchpin of our journey was getting rid of our library of several hundred books. I used to not be able to walk out of a bookstore without buying a book. Now I realize that I’d rather read less and live more. I still read a ton of books each year but I no longer feel the need to own a text in order to learn its lessons. And it is much easier to move without our weighty tomes.

Leverage the leasing lifestyle. In my humble opinion, ownership is largely overrated. I understand the argument for it but in our experience fixing the overhead costs of big ticket items such as housing and transportation has enabled us to move and travel more freely and lightly. For example, when the economy tanks again or a noisy neighbor moves nearby, we are free to explore alternatives unavailable to the less flexible.

These are but a handful of the many lessons we have learned since embarking on our journey of living large with less but hopefully they will help move you closer toward experiencing the bliss of traveling more lightly through life. Take my word for it: there is no substitute for lessening your load, both physically and emotionally. But you don’t need to settle for my word, glean from our journey and go experience the incredible feeling of living with less stuff for yourself!

Symbol Versus Substance

I am reading an intriguing book titled Dematerializing: Taming the Power of Possessions by Jane Hammerslough and it poses a question that got me to thinking: “Does buying an expensive crib mean you love your baby more?” And it is not being asked in the vernacular slang of today. The answer is, of course not. All of which reminds me of wedding rings…

An age-old debate centers around how much is appropriate to spend on wedding rings, specifically engagement rings. For the record, I spent my first paycheck (hundreds not thousands) on my wife’s rings, which is far less than typical, and yet we soon celebrate our 29th anniversary, which is far more than typical. So I firmly believe that cost does not equal commitment.

 And to add controversy to this tale, I recently quit wearing my wedding ring! No, Linda and I are not separating. Nor do I love her any less as a consequence. Interestingly, no one has even appeared to notice, or at least no one has said anything. I never thought I’d not wear my ring but I suffered a nasty injury to my ring finger that has made me think twice about continuing to wear it.

I’d like to think that others are able to sense my matrimonial bliss, with or without my ring, or maybe I am simply past my prime and thus not on anyone’s list of prospects. Either way, I am very happily married and thus not interested in anyone else’s advances. All of which brings me full circle to the issue of symbol versus substance. I think we all know people who wear the symbol of a ring but act with lackluster love or even betrayal.

And speaking of dematerializing, I have heard of married minimalists (namely females) who have gone so far as to sell their wedding rings and donate the proceeds to charity! Now, that seems a bit overboard to me, but I guess that is one’s prerogative. What I am trying to get at here is that the value of a symbol lies in its reflection of reality, not in its perceived value as reflected by purchase price. I think that has the ring of truth to it.

Minimalist Musings

Strangers are typically intrigued when we share with them how we sold our house and furnishings half a dozen years ago to become less location-dependent. And the first question is frequently: “How did you decide what to keep and what to part with?” Our answer is profoundly simple: We kept our favorite things and parted with the other stuff. As book lovers and avid readers, the biggest hurdle for my wife and I was winnowing our library from about 2,000 books to less than 100. It was relatively easy after that. 

And if you were to ask us what one piece of advice we’d give to anyone considering such a move toward minimalism, we’d simply say, “Follow your heart.” What do you want your life to look like and where do you desire to live it? For devout Christians like us, the overarching consideration has been the will of God for our lives. But we have come to realize that God more often than not leads us through our desires. As Psalm 37:4 reads, “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

As for us, we dreamt of a different life once a neighbor’s tree fell on our house and his home later caught on fire in a separate incident (thus signaling to us it was time to move). We had lived simply for years but in the months surrounding these events we started to intentionally pare our possessions so we were poised to consider other options as the opportunity presented itself. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere in my writings, we adopted the motto “minimize to mobilize” and it helped us to view life through that lens. 

An unanticipated aspect of our minimalist journey has been our move to leverage the leasing lifestyle by including our vehicle. We started our journey with a pre-owned Volvo convertible but it proved to be a money pit so we got rid of it about a year after selling our house. We had a couple of good experiences with renting Nissans and when we moved to Franklin, Tennessee, where Nissan North America is headquartered, we opted to try leasing our vehicles and it has been an even better experience than we expected.

Some of our loved ones have asked us what the appeal is of living in coastal Maine, given the different climate and considerable distance from our southern roots. And while February blizzards are not necessarily fun, there is a profound sense of peace here that seeps into your being, reminding you that inclement weather is but a blip on the radar screen of life. While I cannot take credit for the above image, I must admit it rather captures that ethereal quality of what minimalist living means to us here by the sea.

Minimizing Materialism

I spoke at a local church last year on the topic of materialism and was met with blank stares, with the general consensus being that it may have been a cultural issue in the go-go 1980s or ’90s but not so much anymore. But to my wife and I, materialism has not only manifest since last century but also grown worse since the Great Recession. We chatted about this issue the other day and agreed it’s as if the downturn actually magnified materialism, judging by our nation’s growing class inequality. 

As a former pastor I cannot help mining scripture for its wealth of wisdom, especially when it comes to the subject of money, of which Jesus spoke more than any other. Another word for materialism is what the New Testament calls mammon, or “wealth regarded as an evil influence or false object of worship.” Given our capitalistic system, Americans may be especially susceptible to worship of the so-called almighty dollar, despite its pledge that “in God we trust.”

It is none other than Jesus who states in Matthew 6:24…“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” In other words, money is meant to be our servant, not our master. And our allegiance is revealed by how we spend or save what we earn. As one popular adage suggests, “if God can get it through you, he’ll get it to you.” 

And it is Paul who writes in 1 Timothy 6:10…“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” Notice that it is not money in and of itself that is evil, but the love of it. So when is that line crossed? When the New York Times reports that the eight richest men in the world hold more wealth than the bottom half of the world’s population, suffice it to say that materialism has run amuck. 

I propose the way to minimize materialism is to adopt the philosophy of minimalism. I used to reject the sentiment of the bumper sticker that reads: “Live simply that others may simply live.” But nowadays I have grown to think that it is more truth than not. Our attitudes and actions about money reflect whether or not other people are a priority to us. So let us love people and use money, not the other way around…

The Philosophy of Minimalism

As I was thinking about what to write I thought it’d be good to share more of the philosophy of minimalism to help readers get the “why” behind the practice. So often the focus is on the “how” of paring down possessions or whatever, which has its place, but I’ve noticed that a lot of people get bogged down in the details of decluttering without ever really adopting the philosophy behind it all.

I think the missing link for many people trying to simplify their lives is that it is not yet a long-term lifestyle to them but rather a short-term solution. But for minimalism or simplicity or whatever you want to call it to work, you will need to cultivate some convictions about what you desire for your life to look like. The pressure to acquire and accumulate material goods will simply overwhelm you otherwise.

The reality is that our behavior flows from our belief system and until we adopt the philosophy of minimalism we will never adapt our lives to its principles. Webster defines minimalism as “a style or technique (as in music, literature, or design) that is characterized by extreme spareness and simplicity.” I don’t know about the extreme part but I do know it is radical and countercultural.

My philosophy of minimalism is “an intentional mode of living that understands simpler is usually better, less stuff equals more life, time has greater value than money, and people are higher priorities than possessions.” That is my worldview and my life flows from it. It is the perspective from which I try to make sense of my limited time here on earth. It is a core conviction and it is non-negotiable.

I snapped the above photo yesterday as the fog blanketed Belfast harbor here in Maine. The docked sailboat is the picture of simplicity to me, as it is a vessel designed for voyage that nonetheless remains stationary until its sails are placed in position. I’d like to think the sailboat represents our dreams of a simpler life yet until we hoist the sails of principled patterns of living we’ll stay moored in the proverbial harbor.

The Way Life Should Be

I recently read that according to happiness research, the place we live ranks as the strongest contributor to our overall happiness. And I think it must be at least in the top three for us personally, if not at the top. Linda and I started our journey of a more mobile lifestyle five years ago and we agree that it has turned out even better than we anticipated. 

We made our motto “minimize to mobilize” in order to travel and explore the leasing life in short term engagements that allow us the flexibility to enjoy special places that we otherwise may not be able to afford if we tried to buy a home there. And our latest stop on the itinerary has landed us in the beautiful state of Maine, whose motto is “Maine: The Way Life Should Be.” 

As I researched moving here I came across a thought-provoking advertisement in the Maine relocation guide that read: “We seem so preoccupied with filling space. This is a place where the space fills you.” And we have found that to be true. One thing that contributes to that feeling is the fact that billboards actually are outlawed here. 

The lack of visual clutter not only helps Maine consistently rank as the most peaceful state in the union but it also lessens commercialism’s assault on our attention, which is the way life should be. So why am I sharing these thoughts with you? To encourage each of you to at least consider exploring alternative modes of simpler living, even if it only involves moving to another state of mind.

Redefining the Dream

More than five years ago a neighbor’s tree catapulted my wife and I toward a different lifestyle. As longtime readers may recall from my post titled “Celebrating Life,” the aforementioned tree [a massive water-logged oak] landed on the roof of our dream house and consequently launched us on our journey toward a minimalist mode of living. With this defining moment came the realization that we wanted to live less tethered to one place by trading our picket fence version of the American Dream for a more mobile one.

So we methodically pared down our possessions, including our carefully curated library of more than 1,000 books. And in less than a year we were blessed to sell our renovated home for cash at the asking price even in the depressed market of Central Florida. Since that time Linda and I have lived in some very special places, not the least of which is the antebellum mansion we call home here in historic Franklin, Tennessee. Without exception, everyone we have shared our story with has said how much it resonates with them, whether or not they are willing to try it themselves.

And thanks to the good people at the Center for a New American Dream, we are able to share our story with many others. As of yesterday, we are being featured in the latest installment of the center’s Living the Dream series under the heading of “Living Large With Less.” We are very proud to be a part of the center’s Redefining the Dream program, “inspiring, engaging, and challenging Americans to re-examine their cultural values on consumption and consumerism and initiating a new national conversation around what ‘the good life’ and the ‘American dream’ mean.”

Living Large With Less

The other day I had the pleasure of giving my father-in-law a tour of our place during his quick visit to historic Franklin. Of course, he is very familiar with our minimalist journey and thus knows as well as anyone what we have jettisoned en route to arriving at our latest destination.

So it was ironic when he later commented with a smile over a cup of coffee regarding our nicely furnished, newly leased home, “So much for minimalism.” To which I replied with a smile of my own, “We like leasing spacious places furnished with antiques and artwork for less than we paid for our own place.”

Somewhat understandably, when people hear the word “minimalism” they typically think of living a lesser lifestyle in a qualitative sense, which may be one version of it, but not the one we espouse. The type of minimalism my wife and I experience is living with less in a quantitative sense, which in turn allows for a higher overall quality of life for us.

In fact, our minimalist journey has been a progressive one, with us literally moving from one level of accommodation to another, and all for the same relatively modest amount. If only to indicate what minimalism is not, I’ll divulge that the estimated property values of the four places we’ve leased thus far have ranged, in $200,000 increments, from $400,000 to $1 million.

Also, each place we’ve leased without exception has not only been furnished but has to varying degrees also included utilities. And the furnishings, including appliances, linens, towels, dishes, pots, pans and utensils, have been as nice, or even nicer, than anything we used to own. To those so disposed, I heartily recommend considering the minimalist lifestyle. For my wife and I at least, it is “living large with less.”