“Why do we have so many books? There are books in every room.” Instantly, I began introspection and defense when my wife presented me with this question. It was a troublesome question, and I was afraid I would have to give something up. Doesn’t she know this is part of my personality? I tried to brush the question away, standing firm in my belief that the pursuit of knowledge is a vital pursuit and books are an obvious element. My smugness and pride were evidence there was error here. I ignored it. A few days later a free download on Prime called “Goodbye, Things” caught my eye. Minimalism and frugality have always been romantic and relatable for me. Somehow, I imagine I possess the traits of a minimalist because I read about them and like what they say. 44 pages into my latest minimalist read the author hit me in the head with this, minimalists are people who know what’s truly necessary for them versus what they may want for the sake of appearance, and they’re not afraid to cut down on everything in the second category. I began to examine the reality of the situation. There are books in every room of the house. Books I have read once and will never read again. Books I have never read. Books I never plan to read. At some point I started to believe the quantity of my collection would somehow add value to my character and communicate a message of intelligence. But, a library full of unread books can belong to a person who speaks every word in foolishness, and then what gain is the collection? These books should not be displayed for my vanity, they should be kept if they add value and discarded if they do not. My book “collection” quickly showed its true colors. It was a pile of books. So, truly convicted, I set about purging my closet and left the books for another day. I reluctantly threw away a pair of jeans with a large and poorly located rip (I had been keeping them for the last six months for some unknown reason). I, finally, decided to part with my last pair of Jordan’s. I let go of things I wanted to be, things I used to be, things I had in excess, and things I never needed but got for free. There was obvious symbolism, and as I reflected on the journey towards material minimalism I began to flesh out the allegory. While I had imagined myself to be frugal, reality painted a picture of a moderately obsessive collector (a fancy way to say I hoard things). Things I had been given or acquired for free I began to compile, rather than examining their use and function and maintaining the items of value. Evidence of these traits in my personal relationships, cognitive disciplines, and spirituality started to playback for me. When people give me compliments I accept them and use them, I find they add meaning and value. In the same fashion, when people say something rash or unkind (not to be confused with constructive criticism) they give me something useless but I hold on to it just like the compliments. I let the negativity build up until it’s buried the compliments and I’m rummaging through a drawer of torn and stained white t-shirts trying to find the good one. I frequently jump from topic to topic, collecting a little bit on each without fully completing my ideas. At the root of all my issues is my consistent search for complexity and duplicity in spirituality to appease my desire for pleasure rather than soaking in the simplicity of virtue, character and love and allowing those things to alter my will. A fed-up philosopher named Henry David Thoreau had a similar epiphany, and as a result penned one of the most famous quotes in the history of minimalism. I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. Thoreau, disgusted by the greed and misuse in his society, was seeking to make a change. He retreated to the woods to learn a new way and in doing so heeded the warning Jesus gave 18 centuries prior. Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions. Minimalism is not a week-long project, and it will not end when I’ve finished filtering my earthly possessions. It is a life project; it’s a paradigm shift. Going forward I intend to guard myself against the idea that my worth is attached to my possessions, and to the things I collect and hold on to. In the losing of this idea I hope to find a more abundant life.
Already I have found it is much easier to identify what I want to wear and why I want to wear it. The quality is in plain sight and easy to choose when the collection is concentrated. If you, reader, have arrived at this point I want to offer you an encouragement. Look through your closet for value. If something holds no value-- the discouraging thought, the greed, the anger-- let it go. In doing so you'll allow the things of value to be more concentrated and alive than ever before.
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Stowed away securely in my mind is a distinct memory of spring cleaning when I was younger. These cleaning sessions (unconfined to spring) typically erupted when inspiration, over collection, or parental encouragement forced the hand. Every item removed with the intention of reordering the room. Walls, windows, and every inch of carpet subjected to cleansing. One particular day I finished emptying and cleaning and scanned the vacant space. A light breeze made the curtains dance, and a pervasive sense of peace started to well up from my soul and take hold in my body. “Not until all is given Comes the thought of heaven When the mind’s an empty room The clear days come” ~Wendell Berry~ These centering moments are ones I cherish and return to. I am fortified by the importance of emptying out and letting go. Most days I spend rushing so quickly I forget to absorb experience or attend to little things. Other days I pore over details so intently I grow anxious. But, this is not what God intends for me. He knows the stress and worry; the busyness produced from my obsession to acquire, create and exist. Jesus teaches to leave behind the things we do not and will not own, and follow His path. A path where we accept His grace to reorder, throw away, cleanse, and renew.
“For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.” Doing nothing is one of the hardest activities for me to accomplish because my mind is speeding even when I am sitting still. It’s terrifying to relinquish control. My brain craves stimulation from TV, books, or conversation. But, when I set aside time to empty the room, abide in the grace and love of my good Father, and intentionally let go, I experience freedom, peace, and richness of life. So, if you, reader, have arrived at this point my encouragement is to set aside a few minutes to breathe God’s love in and exhale your worry. Let go, and let the clear days come. |
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I'm a Hoosier. I like the outdoors. Taxes are my job. I write for a living. This Blog
Writing my way to an adult life of minimalism, sustainability, and joy rooted in Truth. I'm learning, unlearning, and relearning.
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