“Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” -William Morris

 

At the time of reading Stuffocation (James Wallman) in 2015, I started visualizing my 800 sq. ft. apartment from an entirely new perspective. In his work, Wallman explained the concept of “Minimalism” and used examples to describe the pitfalls of today’s materialistic society. Having just finished reading the last few pages, I was curious to try out what I had just learned. Despite claiming to live in an otherwise clean and tidy apartment, I came to realize, upon quick inspection of my space, that I was holding onto many unnecessary items.

These were items, as I learned, that weren’t contributing to meaning in my life.

Areas such as the flat surfaces of my desk, coffee table, and dining table served as (unintentional yet semi-permanent) placeholders for pile of items such as magazines, mail, clothing items, and even books. After a few moments of thought, I realized that certain items within these piles could be classified as either (1) not useful at all to me or (2) not useful specifically to me.

The ideas derived from the articles in the magazines could be written into a personal notebook and then recycled. The mail could be sorted through and dealt with. The underutilized clothes could be donated. The books that I had little interest reading could be donated as well.

“How could I have been so blind to how much “stuff” that I called all mine?”, I must have asked myself during that simple walk-through. I must have reasoned that maintaining my space meant “having a home” for each item that crossed the threshold of my apartment door. “If all my mail is in a pile and if all my clothes are together, then my space is tidy and organized!” — I must have rationalized. In reality, why would I want to surround myself with items that don’t remind me of my best self? Wouldn’t organization of my items then occur more organically and seem like less of a chore? …It was starting to make sense to me.

As Wallman’s words were still fresh in my mind, I realized at that point that minimalism and the minimalist movement were much more than just “trendy buzzwords” to signify having significantly less items in a space without any substantial reasoning.

It was more than just organizing items into seemingly neat piles. It was more than just decluttering my space by deciding which items were useful to me and getting rid of the items that weren’t. It was even more than just about planning to remain diligently cognizant of how I could maintain such a space.

No, this was a lifestyle change. It’s about choosing the life that I want for myself, not the one set by others or society. It’s about surrounding myself with what truly matters to me, and that’s it. No excess. If an item doesn’t align with my values and endeavors, then it’s a barrier to my success. There is no room for barriers.

Moving forward, I came to the realization that if I could see “the excess” plainly on my flat and open surfaces, then what exactly was I storing beneath them? What else was contained in my drawers, cabinets, and my “organized” storage bins?

As I started going through the bulk of my apartment, I was able to gather and separate much of the excess. I was also able to form a plan to determine the fate of the extra items. Whether it was to be recycled, thrown out, donated, or sold to a second-hand thrift shop (of which I made $200 from some lightly worn clothing in 2015), the excess had no room in my space.

Within a couple of months, as I worked from room to room, I was able to pare down my entire apartment. I had accumulated multiple trash bags worth of items to donate. Once all the excess was gone, I had realized that I had never felt so free.

Having moved eight times (!) over the course of the previous four years at that point, I was dumbfounded by how much extra I had carried with me during all of those moves. All those boxes. All those trips up and down stairs. All the family members who I asked to please help. All the extra stress. I could have done with less.

I was amazed by what I had thought was “necessary” all of those years was actually the contrary. I also could not have predicted how the sheer number of my items could have affected a few aspects of my life. Not only did the physical space in my apartment look so stunning and beautiful after the paring down, but it seemed as though, mentally, someone hit my “reset” button. I had reached an emotional state of calmness and a level of unrecognizable mental clarity.

Looking back on this memory, I would think that one of the most pivotal moments in this process was decluttering my kitchen. I had no idea how much “extra” was in this space and how it was negatively affecting how I used the space. I realize now that I may have been unintentionally exhibiting avoidant behavior around spending time in my kitchen which negatively affected my ability to properly cook for myself and my partner (like an adult!). I suppose, before minimalism, I had never felt 100% comfortable in my own kitchen.

Having since moved out of the apartment and since buying my own house (with a larger kitchen!), I was worried that I would be tempted to fall back into the consumer-driven ways of today’s “more is better” culture that had been previously ingrained into all of our mindsets since the onset of advertising. It seemed like it would be all too easy to fill my new cabinets and countertops with the latest and greatest –what was on-trend or what was high end.

However, I had come to a point of no return in my minimalism journey. It’s not only that I see the benefits of maintaining a minimalist house and kitchen, but I no longer feel the desire to own more. Specifically, in my kitchen, I understand that I only need (and use!) a few items of cookware in order to prepare a great meal. Anything extra serves to decrease efficiency and creates a barrier between what I want to do and how I go about doing it.

To this day, I attempt to eliminate the barriers in my kitchen. I am not digging around for lost items nor am I buried in kitchen utensils or appliances. I can find what I need and have lots of space available. It feels nothing short of amazing.

I am confident that I have what I need for now. Yet more importantly, I am proud of what I own. My kitchen is complete with dishes/mugs/cutlery (enough for two), a few items of cookware, and a seven-year-old toaster. In this kitchen with my minimalism mindset, I am able to put more thought into the quality of the ingredients that I use rather than the gadgets I could have instead.