Bigger is better, right? And what better example of the American appetite for bigger things than the home we have. Since graduating from my MBA back in 2008, I have purchased three homes. The first was a modest 1,100 square feet two-bedroom condo. The second was a noticeable upgrade: 3,700 square feet four-bedroom single family house. The last is the record-breaker: 4,105 square feet five-bedroom single family house. And what do you do with more space in a house? You fill it with stuff! We had big stuff: mattresses, bed frames, sofas, TVs, desks, chairs. We amassed a ton of small stuff too: flatware, electronics, linens, even a box full of ‘complimentary’ hotel liquid soap and shampoo bottles. I saw the sign posts: the larger U-Hauls I would rent when we moved residences; how many Amazon Prime cardboard boxes I had to cut the tape off and collapse to recycle; and how little we used certain things like the waffle maker (used not even once!) and tennis rackets for the kids (used once – and kids didn’t want to play again).
After two decades of accumulation, I was not any happier. My Canali suits and Zegna ties didn’t make me happier. Holding onto my collection of outdated iPhones and coveted CDs purchased from Blockbuster music in the 90s (e.g., Live Throwing Copper, Backstreet Boys Millennium) didn’t make me happier. And the waffle maker certainly didn’t! So why did I own so much stuff? Why was I holding onto these things? These questions dovetailed with the other existential questions I was grappling with as I turned 40.
It was at this vulnerable time when I began to adopt minimalism. I watched the Minimalists’ 2015 documentary (free on YouTube) and some of Matt D’Avella’s YouTube clips. And I began to embrace this notion that less is more. I began to give away and donate things. I took on and completed the 100 Things Challenge. And I drastically slowed down my Amazon purchases and my trips to Target or Home Goods, opting instead for Wal-Mart grocery pickups.
This post is about the beliefs I formed that helped me climb out of the insatiable pit of consumerism and into freedom of minimalism. There are three beliefs I now have around minimalism – and I believe that they help me preserve my happiness in the second half of my life.
Minimalism Belief #1: The things you own end up owning you
I love this scene from Fight Club. Edward Norton’s character loses all of his personal belongings in a fire and is complaining to his friend Tyler Durden, played by Brad Pitt. “It’s just stuff…” Norton says. Pitt adds, “The things you own end up owning you.” Fight Club was released in 1999, about 25 years ago, but the truth that Tyler Durden was sharing with his friend resonates with me.
Back in the U.S., I accumulated all of this stuff. Why? I admit part of it was to ‘keep up with the Jones’. I remember when the crock pot made a come back, and then how the air fryer was growing in popularity. Yep, we bought both. How easy it was to succumb to what social media influencers are pushing on Instagram, to the best-reviewed product that the New York Times recommends on Wirecutter, or to the 5-star products with 1,000+ reviews on Amazon (which would be featured on Amazon’s retail store in TX).
This desire to own more things becomes attachment. How do I know? Like Edward Norton’s character, notice what feelings come up when I lose these things or don’t have them. Sadness. Disappointment. Guilt. Regret. Loss. Like how I felt when my daughter accidentally left her school yearbook at a hotel we stayed at – that we had to drive all the way back to pick it up for her. Or that feeling of going on a snorkeling trip in the Caribbean with the kids and fearing that the resort might not have the right size of masks for my kids – so we had to buy them on Prime. Or when someone broke into our house, and of all things, took our range (stovetop oven) – just straight up took it out of our kitchen, threw it onto their pickup truck and drove off with it.
There’s no better ‘force majeure’ that sheds light on my addiction to stuff than having to move half way across the world – and faced with the decision on what to do with everything. I quit my job on April 1, 2022, and move date to Thailand was June 1, giving me only two months to get rid of a ton of stuff. I went through so much misery putting things up on eBay, making frequent drops to Goodwill, and doing fire sale on two days with a yard sale. Constantly running through my mind was, “%$*!, I paid $300 for this Apple Watch and now selling it for $50!” or “&%$# got this luxury neck tie for a discount and no one wants it so I have to give it away!” I was miserable. I was a downer to be around. I was easily agitated and felt on edge. What does this look eerily like? Yes, withdrawal from addiction. I was suffering through withdrawal.
Tyler is right. They’re just things. But see how much control they had over me. Owning them – after the initial dopamine hit of purchasing them – didn’t give me any lasting happiness. But losing them, yes – it hurt. And I didn’t want to feel like that any more.
Minimalism Belief #2: Search your feelings; you know it to be true
While I’m taking this Vader quote out of context here, I see his words as speaking to scanning one’s true feelings – what lies beneath our actions – and compel us to do (now seemingly) silly things like hoarding old iPhones and buying a waffle maker. How did all of this stuff make me feel?
I grew in a large suburban house – and a Father who really liked to fill it with stuff. Our garage did not store any cars. Why? Because it already had a ton of random stuff my Dad collected over the years we lived in that house. Yes, he was (and still is) a hoarder, a pack rat, someone who loves to collect things and hates to get rid of them. I can’t blame him – cause he grew up with very little from war-torn Saigon – and to him, with that refugee mentality – everything has a price, is valued above $0, and can always be re-sold.
But how did it feel – how did I truly feel – as a child walking (or trying to walk) into his garage? At the surface, it felt like I was intruding, that I shouldn’t be in there, that I might break or misplaced one of his things and get reprimanded for messing around with his things. But underneath, my feelings were of fear and disgust. I did not feel safe in that garage. I did not want to step into there. Even when he asked me to find a screwdriver or tool hidden in that garage, I would pause before stepping in there.
Contrast this with the feeling I get when I check into a clean, modern hotel room. No junk on the ground. The bed made, the towels neatly folded, the coffee mugs upside down and with unopened packages of sugar and stirrers close by. Everything in its place. I feel light. I am not weighed down by anything. I feel unburdened. I feel free. And with this freedom, I notice my higher energy level. Yes, I feel more productive. I feel like I can get more things accomplished. I feel like writing when I sit at a clean desk. I feel like working out at an uncluttered gym. I (even) feel more at ease to do my business in a spot-free bathroom.
Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred, right? And it’s the case with our things. It takes energy to clean, to de-clutter, to organize, to put things in their rightful place. But notice where that energy is transferred. I get it back in myself being in that clean space. Better work. Better rest. Better me.
Minimalism Belief #3: Less things that don’t matter make way for what does matter
I got a lot out of watching the Suze Orman show on CNBC. My favorite segment (as it probably was for many of her fans) was when she listened to callers pitch what they want to spend their money on – to see if she would approve or deny that expenditure. It was entertaining to see her deny a mid-lived man’s request to buy a mobile home, or a teenage girl’s spend of money saved up on a Build-a-Bear. I learned a lot about Suze’s thought process – why she denied these things. But perhaps more importantly, what she approved and why. Among these things: experiences. She would approve throwing a happy birthday celebration for one’s parents, or a family vacation to Mexico. Why? “Spend on experiences rather than things,” she would repeat.
A famous Harvard longitudinal study of 268 sophomores in 1938 started with these impactful words: “HAPPINESS IS LOVE: FULL STOP.” Among all the things that these 268 men collected, all the success they garnered, all of the physical health they preserved – top among the predictors of happiness is the quality of relationships.
How many times I chose to spend my time and money on accumulating things. The hours behind a laptop away from my family during Thanksgiving dinner to scope out the Black Friday deals to pick up at midnight. All those trips walking around a Target or a Best Buy, or a shopping mall, or all those retail outlets during a long layover at the airport – when I could be making conversation with a family member or telling them I love them. And of course, all of those hours I spent at work, away from the house, some times by myself at a hotel room on a business trip, to amass money that would be later spent on stuff that I didn’t need.
Taking this mini-retirement shines a light on what matters most. Yes, happiness is love. I don’t spend on stuff I don’t need anymore. If you follow the money trail, and take a look at my bank and credit card statements, it’s to travel to explore the world, to eat out with friends, to share experiences like riding a Universal Studios rollercoaster or relax at the beach with my kids. I put my money where it matters most: experiences. And in so doing, I receive what matter most: happiness and love.
Closing Thoughts
The purpose of this post was to share the underlying beliefs behind why I’m a minimalist. What about what I do as a minimalist? How did I get rid of all of these things? How did I stop myself from slipping back into consumerism?
On another post, I’ll discuss how I put my minimalism beliefs into action – more specifically, how I:
- Maintain the 100 Things Challenge
- Purge my things regularly
- Pause before purchasing anything new
Until then, I’ll leave you with a closing thought on minimalism:
“One does not accumulate but eliminate. It is not daily increase but daily decrease. The height of cultivation always runs to simplicity”
~Bruce Lee
I wish you elimination of the wrong things. I wish you daily decrease of distractions that do not serve you. I wish you a life that cultivates and runs to simplicity.
~Lester T