Essentialism

I’ve had a minimalism revelation.

I’ll never get there.

(Duh, right? I’m always the last the know.) 

The idea itself? Is awesome. Essentialism (a better term for my way of doing all this culling than minimalism) has been saving me money, something I hadn’t realized until recently. Example! Normally, when confronted with a new-to-me coffee device (Aeropress!) I would buy it, hoping for a revelatory coffee experience that would part the heavens and pour sweet caffeine over me in a non-wasteful drip-irrigation method. Then I really thought about it, and what it meant in terms of what I've been striving for. We have four other coffee making methods in my house: the pot, which is used everyday; the French press, which Lala loves; the Moka caffettiera, which I love; and a Melita drip filter which comes in handy all the time. 

All of these we use. All of these bring us joy. We’re keeping all of them. These are our “essentials.” But I certainly don’t need another one. So I spent a couple of hours happily reading coffee maker reviews, and then I closed the browser tab, satisfied. (BOY, do I love reading reviews online, especially of luggage*. It’s a thing.) 

This is what I've been doing: getting rid of the extras. I've been tossing the things I'd kept because I thought I had to (misplaced sentimentality) or because I would need them (even though I never have and won't). I have much less now (and there's more to go! I'm going into the bedroom closet soon! That space is a horror show!). 

We have extra. We don't need extra. But getting rid of it isn't simplifying my life. 

See, I was heading down the path of minimizing hoping desperately that when I got there—when my office was empty of everything except space and light and the few things I love best—I would finally not be overwhelmed by choice. I'm pretty much there. The only two books I have on my bookshelf right now are Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson because it's the most perfect book ever written, and Bread and Jam for Frances because it's the second best book ever.

But I still have so much to read that sometimes it's hard to choose what to sit down with.

I wanted to minimize to reduce choice. Isn’t that a ridiculous luxury? How entitled is that? I have so very much that I want help in narrowing down the things I spend my time on. I am, quite frankly, irritated with myself that I thought I could effect this change outwardly. Silly me. 

It's not going to change. If I sit in my office with one book and nothing else, I'll still have to make the choice between reading and napping and meditating and going bzzzzzzzzzzzz with my lips until my face is numb. Choosing, the stressful part, is sticking around. 

I’ve been approaching it from the wrong direction. Or, at least, it’s been a direction that wasn’t quite right. I wanted to make things be simpler in my life by eliminating clutter. I got rid of books I wasn't going to read and yarn I wasn't going to knit. That has absolutely helped me by making my surroundings quieter and less stressful. 

But nothing can make life simpler. It’s messy and cluttered and busy and frantic and overwhelming, and that’s just the way it is. Sometimes. 

Other times, when you sit with that feeling and just let it wash over you, not trying to do anything about it, not getting mad at the feeling or yourself, it gets pretty damn simple. I really like this post by Leo Babauta: You're Not Doing Life Wrong. 

I will never get all the interesting articles on the internet read. I will never catch up on Twitter or Facebook. I will never just look around the house and think, Oh, nothing else to do but rest. 

I have to choose to rest. To read. To make. (I don't choose to write–I not only have to but I have to, you know?) 

And that's a gift, really. That I get to choose. I'm grateful for it. 

Oh, speaking of what I've been reading, I've really enjoyed The Map of Enough: One Woman's Search for Place by Molly May (affil link). A self-proclaimed nomad, May finds out what it's like to grow roots as she builds a yurt in the middle of winter. She has a gorgeous way with language, and I'm sad that I'm almost done with it.

* Oh, man, luggage. I think my obsession with packing for trips possibly began with Frances! The way she packs her lunch at the end! I also love salt like she does! Or more! 

** Suddenly, I find myself going to Scotland in May. DUDE. All I can think about is packing for the week in my half-sized suitcase which I love even more than salt. I'm so excited!