Stumbling into minimalism

*via Santi Gilli

It all started when I wrote this blog post back in May. I had this really clear vision of wanting to just step into a new house, to just leave almost everything (husband excepted) in my old house behind and just move into a sparsely but beautifully curated new one that reflects my current tastes better. And although the blog post reads like a laundry list of stuff I wish I could buy, it's actually more about just having a few special things, than having a lot of things. I didn't know it, but it was the sign of other things happening in my heart.

A little thinkery and I came to a realization (a nice one) that I didn't really need to abandon my current abode - I just needed to get rid of all the stuff in it that was weighing me down and didn't feel right anymore.  And maybe add a few new select items along the way.

So I started on my journey, not realizing exactly what direction I was headed in.  And then I stumbled onto this book: The Joy of Less by Francine Jay.   The book hit home with me.  I can't say I agree with every tenet or see myself going nuts with it, but it hit home.

I've found myself lately feeling dissatisfied and disturbed with my continual obsession to improve my life by acquiring more stuff - to change the way I feel on the inside by changing the outside.  I do think there is merit in this by the way - I think the outside reflects our inner world and I think small outside steps can lead to inner improvements.  But I think constantly grooming our outsides (our clothes, hair, house, etc) can lead the insides to be neglected - maybe because we want to ignore the insides, maybe because they hurt too much or are too hard to face.

I feel like I've been moving away from so much shopping and window shopping and wanting - and turning more towards some uncharted soul horizon.  And in similar-minded minimalists I see kindred spirits - people who don't want to miss the parts of life that are most intangible - creativity, love, joy, experience - instead of just jewelry and boots and mascara and ottomans and window dressings.

So I've started this journey that's taken me into every nook and cranny all over my house and into moody memories and cobwebbed piles of crap and then it's taking me deeper, into my heart. And as I'm going, I'm realizing that maybe what I wanted wasn't a new house, but a different kind of a life.