The following is an excerpt from The More of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own.
In 2008, Memorial Day weekend promised to deliver beautiful weather—not always the case in Vermont at that time of year. So my wife, Kim, and I decided to spend that Saturday shopping, running errands, and catching up on chores. Spring cleaning was our big goal for the weekend, starting with the garage.
Saturday morning dawned, and as Kim and our infant daughter slept on, I got our son, Salem, out of bed early for some eggs and bacon. I thought that after a nice breakfast he might be in a state of mind to help his dad. Looking back now, I’m not sure why I thought a five-year-old would feel eager about cleaning a garage, but nevertheless this was my hope. After breakfast we made our way to it.
Our two-car garage, as always, was full of stuff. Boxes stacked one on top of another threatened to fall off shelves. Bikes were tangled together, leaned against a wall. A garden hose slumped in loops in a corner. Rakes and shovels and brooms leaned every which way. Some days we’d have to turn sideways when getting in and out of our cars to squeeze through the mess that filled the garage.
“Salem,” I said, “here’s what we need to do. This garage has gotten dirty and messy over the winter, so we’re going to pull everything out onto the driveway. Then we’re going to hose down the entire garage, and after it’s dry, we’ll put everything back more organized. Okay?”
The little guy nodded, pretending to understand everything I had just told him.
I motioned to a plastic bin in the corner and asked Salem to drag it out.
Unfortunately, this particular bin happened to be full of Salem’s summer toys. As you can imagine, as soon as my son was reunited with toys he hadn’t seen in months, the last thing he wanted to do was help me clean the garage. He grabbed his Wiffle ball and bat and began heading for the backyard.
On his way out, he stopped. “Will you play with me, Dad?” he asked, a hopeful expression on his face.
“Sorry, buddy. I can’t,” I told him. “But we can play as soon as I finish. I promise.”
With a pang, I watched Salem’s brown head disappear around the corner of the garage.
As the morning crept along, one thing led to another, and the possibility that I would be able to join Salem in the backyard began to look less and less likely. I was still working in the garage hours later when Kim called Salem and me in for lunch.
When I headed back outside to finish the job, I noticed our next-door neighbor June working in her own yard, planting flowers and watering her garden. June was an elderly woman with gray hair and a kindly smile who had always taken an interest in my family. I waved to her and got on with my work.
By this point, I was trying to clean and organize all the stuff I had dragged out of the garage in the morning. It was hard work and taking much longer than I had expected. As I worked, I thought about all the times lately that I had been feeling discontented while taking care of our stuff. Here was yet another time! What made it worse was that Salem kept appearing from the backyard to ask questions or try to convince me to play with him. Each time I’d tell him, “Almost done, Salem.”
June could recognize the frustration in my body language and tone of voice. At one point, as we happened to pass each other, she said to me sarcastically, “Ah, the joys of home ownership.” She had spent most of the day caring for her own home.
I responded, “Well, you know what they say—the more stuff you own, the more your stuff owns you.”
Her next words changed the course of my life. “Yeah,” she said, “that’s why my daughter is a minimalist. She keeps telling me I don’t need to own all this stuff.”
I don’t need to own all this stuff.
The sentence reverberated in my mind as I turned to look at the fruits of my morning labor: a large pile of dirty, dusty possessions stacked in my driveway. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my son, alone in the backyard, still playing by himself. The juxtaposition of the two scenes dug deep into my heart, and I began to recognize the source of my discontent for the first time.
It was piled up in my driveway.
I already knew that possessions don’t equal happiness. Doesn’t everybody? At least we all profess to know that our things won’t bring us true satisfaction. But in that moment, as I surveyed the pile of stuff in my driveway, another realization came to me: Not only are my possessions not bringing happiness into my life; even worse, they are actually distracting me from the things that do!
I ran inside the house and found my wife upstairs scrubbing a bathtub. Still trying to catch my breath, I said, “Kim, you’ll never guess what just happened. June said we don’t need to own all this stuff!”
And in that moment a minimalist family was born.
I have learned a lot about minimalism in the eight years since my garage-cleaning experience. The best of my discoveries appear in The More of Less. Yet the point I will keep coming back to is the same insight I had on that first day: Our excessive possessions are not making us happy.
Even worse, they are taking us away from the things that do. Once we let go of the things that don’t matter, we are free to pursue all the things that really do matter.
—
“Becoming Minimalist” is an excerpt from The More of Less.
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R Alan says
Have pared down and love minimalist living. Looked out to the backyard with plants waiting to be repotted. Although I love flowers, I have decided that the perennials in the garden and one pot on the front porch and one on the patio is enough. Sure will cut down on expenses, watering and weeding. Enough is as good as a feast.
Jim Clemens says
We lived for 30 years in a large house that also had my wife’s studio. When the kids moved out, we sold a lot of moveables and stored the rest to go into a 700 sf condo. It still took us years to get rid of the excess, mostly because we had become a prisoner of our things, and nostalgia and memories exaggerated the value of a lot of those things. After some discussion we came to know that our kids had no interest in inheriting the bulk of the “heirlooms” we had saved for them. Now we are selling those items too. Since retirement we have also downsized to a travel trailer, minimizing even more, and really enjoy traveling with the very least of baggage.
Gina says
It may seem cruel to mention this now, but as I watch the Fort MacMurray fire tragedy on TV, and the people being interviewed crying about their lost possessions, I am hoping that once they get over the shock, that some will embrace the life lesson and think carefully about what is truly worth replacing as they start their new life.
I speak from experience as I have moved to another country twice in my life, and the relief I felt once I had gotten rid of all my possessions was exhilarating. It was like being reborn.
Now that I’m a senior and about to do it again, I am looking forward to another fresh start!
Incredulous says
Choosing to discard belongings and lead a minimalist lifestyle and forcibly losing everything in a traumatic event are two very different things. I also speak from experience.
Are you actually saying if these refugees came to you seeking help replacing their belongings (food, clothing, bedding, kids’ toys) you’d actually tell them no, this is supposed to be a positive learning experience? Because that would be cruel.
Linda Stoll says
Yes, yes.
Our most life changing epiphanies and game changers usually spring from the most random and routine of events …
Karen H. says
What a perfectly timed read as my husband and I are planning a future weekend to “clean out” our garage……for the 3rd time this year. I feel like we are always cleaning out our garage. We have made great progress over the past 4 years in minimizing the things in our house but the garage seems to be a constant reminder that we still hold on to too much “stuff”. Thank you for your wise, encouraging words on a simpler way to enjoy life.
Elsie Gilmore says
I didn’t realize you were from Vermont. That explains why you’re so awesome. ;-) I grew up on a small dairy farm there and spent my first 30 years as a Vermonter. I’ve almost always been very practical about belongings. I strayed a few times but always came back to how peaceful I feel when I live simply. Thanks for sharing your story.
Kent Faver says
My kids are grown and gone – and both seem to be handling this issue decently. My question is – what do you do when your son has a real passion for baseball and your daughter lives for dance? Do you say sorry we’re minimalists – we can’t buy the things you need to excel – or do you help them live their passion?
Emily says
We have 6 of us (2 adults and 4 kids) in a 1250 sq ft house.
There is no room for ‘extra stuff’ – but lots of room for hobbies and interests.
Books, art supplies, two spinning wheels, 3 guitars, a piano, 2 fiddles, a trumpet, a sax, a bassoon, a flute, a woodworking shop, bikes for everyone, canning supplies (home made jam!), sports equipment (mostly balls of various shapes and sizes), gardening stuff – it all finds a place somehow.
Probably a lot of people coming into our home would not ‘see’ minimalist. There is lots of stuff around and always a project on the go for someone somewhere in the house.
But all the things are used, all the things are loved, and as things are outgrown (interest or size!) they are passed on to be loved by someone else.
All of which to say, let kids live! Don’t let a kid’s passion take over the family schedule to the point that others become resentful, that’s not healthy, but let kids explore the world and pursue what they are good at. And by only buying things we need, use, and love, there is room in our house and our lives for all of it. :)
Kent Faver says
Awesome Emily! My wife and I tried to parent the same way. She said something yesterday that hit home with me – entering high school for a kid is tough – if they have found a passion, something they’re pretty good at – they probably have a core group of friends in this area – and high school is so much easier to enter and get through.
Ray Smith says
No. Absolutely not. Why on earth would you? “Sorry, you can’t have that because it’d put us over our self-imposed limit of 1,000 items.” This type of rule-based minimalism – or any type of minimalism that prevents you from having things that would actually improve your family’s quality of life in some way – is completely nonsensical. You want to make life more enjoyable, not less enjoyable. The key is simply to exercise restraint: buy things you really need, want and can afford – but don’t buy it otherwise.
It all comes down to common sense, really.
Gareth says
I love this blog. The minimalist ethos shares much with mindfulness. Are you aware of mindfulness? Do you practise?
Daisy @ Simplicity Relished says
I just love this story, Joshua. Every time I read it, I’m re-inspired to continue in this journey to live simply. Thank you so much!
Kariane says
Yes! I would rather play with my boys than clean a garage too. :-)
Best of luck with your book tour!