In my perfect world, I live in the rolling countryside sandwiched between two Amish families. It’s the basis of a sitcom called, “The Zimmermans & Me,” in which my foolish and wasteful English ways are being constantly challenged by the simpler ways of my neighbors. The ensuing humor resulting from our cultural “clashes” challenges me to learn about what’s important in life. And if you’re wondering, yes, I really do think about these things and to top it off ― I make myself laugh.
In an alternate universe, I fantasize about finding out that I’m the long-lost daughter of the Kilcher family in the wilds of Alaska. The singer Jewel is my younger sister. We herd cattle, play guitar, sing together and make each other birthday presents out of what we can harvest from the land and our intimate knowledge of each other’s personalities.
In each of these scenarios, my life is simpler. I am focusing on the essence of what’s important in life and the appreciation that comes from working for what you need and sometimes getting what you want (Rolling Stones faintly playing in the distance). Shared experiences form fond memories that never grow tattered with wear. And because I’m more resourceful, I have loads of money stashed away for hard times and special indulgences that one would never be able to normally afford.
In other words, I feel content, secure and at peace ― with less.
My life now is a semblance of my fantasies, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes because I intentionally make choices I would say are more mindful. So, the question still stands: What is minimalism? What I have perused over in the last few paragraphs echoes the desire to streamline my life and drill down gently to the depths of what matters. However, that’s my fantasy and certainly doesn’t cover the full range of human possibilities.
What Brings You Joy?
Is minimalism a thought process? Is it a behavior? A philosophy, a cultural norm, an aesthetic? The term minimalism itself was coined in the 1960s in New York City as an avant garde arts movement in music, architecture, sculpture and design. It was quite cosmopolitan, often with the price tag to prove it and not the rustic, pioneering idealism I’ve envisioned for myself. In other terms, minimalism could be construed as IKEA-esque austerity, German stoicism or Asian Zen. Some ideas focus on simplicity of thought, others on sleek polished lines while others still on an internal, spiritual way of being in, and appreciating, the world. As there is a multitude of different ways to express one’s preferences, my suggestion would be to go ahead and choose the one or the many that speak to you and bring you the most joy.
In the United States, especially, we have been blessed with more than our share of niceties, comforts and technological advances. In fact, many of us have come to take these things for granted. We place material gain and the pursuit of it above all else ― oftentimes at the expense of our health, our families and our financial security.
Perhaps the minimalism of the last three decades was the pendulum’s swing back from the excesses of the 1980s to the righting of our maladaptive behaviors as a result of our most recent recession. Perhaps present-day minimalism is the attempt to clear our minds and rest our senses from the inundating barrage of ever-accelerating information, global conflict, media hype, advertisements, drama and constant calls to action. Perhaps this manifests itself in the hypervigilance of a teenager’s constant phone-checking, a mother’s incessant need to seem perfect on Facebook or the hours spent in our cars commuting daily to and from work so we can maintain our expensive home and pay the minimum balance on our credit cards.
I’ve Got to Be Me
I don’t know about you, but all this so-called adulting is making my head spin. I’m a divorced mom with two kids in college, a career woman ― which is fulfilling but also exhausting, an adult daughter of two aging parents whom I live with (one with Parkinson’s), a girlfriend to one awesome man and an owner of a cat ― but that’s a whole other story. Anything more and I might burst. I am better sometimes than others at keeping up with the world’s news and I certainly don’t have the time for drama. Period.
So, in this existence of mine where I am working hard to be the best me I can be, I have decided that my motto can best be adopted as wabi-sabi. It’s the Japanese world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. In other words, my life is “perfectly, imperfect” ― just the way I like it.
