miss minimalist

Real Life Minimalists: Starlet Rose

miss minimalist — Mon, 14 May 2012 07:28:07 +0000

Every Monday I post Real Life Minimalists, a profile of one of my readers in their own words. If you’d like to participate, click here for details.

Today, Starlet Rose tells us how minimalism gave her the freedom and confidence to conquer her anxiety problems. She’s currently chronicling her journey and interests on her blog.

Starlet Rose writes:

I wasn’t born a minimalist. I was always organised but I wanted to collect something. I suffered anxiety problems from being young and suffered social phobia as a teen. By the time of fourteen I felt to terrified to leave the house in case I met ‘someone,’ saw me. I spent most of my time alone in my bedroom. My main contact with the outside world was via penfriends. I didn’t want to tell them I was housebound so I collected so I had something to say.

I gained an interest in alternative therapies. I started to collect crystals and other things like that. I was always looking for the answer to my problems. There was always someone out there selling a cream, or a bracelet or something that claimed that by buying it I would be filled with confidence and able to sort out any problem that life threw at me. It was like a magical charm only it never worked.

I felt that I had nothing to be proud of. I had suffered social phobia so badly I hadn’t taken exams at school. I had never worked properly. I was trying to feel pride in the possessions that I had because I felt so ashamed of who I was. I was trying to buy my identity because I was not sure of whom I really was.

I hid behind the things I bought, I was going to better if I bought one more thing, or read one more book or tried one more self-help group. I could put of my recovery off until tomorrow. I got to the point where I realised I knew all the theory about social phobia but wasn’t getting over it.

I felt unsure of what to do next. Then I saw a psychic on the internet that I had met in person years ago. I couldn’t remember much but knew I liked him and he had given me good advice. I decided to have a reading with him. As I am a single mother to a young child I chose a remote photo reading, where I simply had to email a photo and wait for the reading. His reading did make a lot of sense but one telling part of it was that in order to move forward with my life I had to de-clutter my possessions and my mind. He explained that my energy was liked a blocked pipe and until I unblocked it things would not change in my life. I knew he was right so I started on de-cluttering. There were possessions and beliefs I knew I no longer needed. I don’t drive so relied on the charity van making its monthly collection so de-cluttering sometimes seemed slow, but I was determined to do it.

The more I got rid of the more I realised I didn’t need it. But, even more scary was that I realised many aspects of my social phobia were being caused by materialism. I never had any interest in fashion, yet I bought clothes on the basis of trying to wear the right thing in other people’s eyes, I bought things to try to solve my problems, and I went in search of my true nature. It was then I turned to minimalism. I purged my home getting rid of excess and all the things that had been false dreams.

The more I got rid of the free I became. The less I owned the more clear my mind became and the more aware I became of who I really am. Once I stopped looking for the miracle cure outside of myself suddenly my confidence soared. I managed to look people in the eye for the first time ever in my life and I feel as though I am moving on with life. I do feel as though I owe my recovery to minimalist at least in part, without turning to minimalism I felt I was trapped in a prison of possessions. I had to buy more to keep up and be the person they represented instead of who I am.

I realise my interests consist of writing, nature, herbs and spirituality. I don’t need to own a lot of have those interests. My blog www.starletroseaskwith.com covers these subjects and more. I started blogging some years ago as a way of simply seeing where it took me. It is steadily gaining more focus over time, but covers a range of topics.

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

A Minimalist Mother’s Day

miss minimalist — Thu, 10 May 2012 07:37:17 +0000

Fortunately, my Plumblossom is too young to shower me with knick knacks or other gifts this Mother’s Day—she’ll be sticking with some sweet smiles and little coos (all I could ask for!).

But infants aren’t the only ones who can honor their mothers in minimalist fashion; so for the rest of us, I’ve put together a list of no-clutter ways to show our love:

1. Cook your mom a delicious meal. You can put together breakfast-in-bed, an elegant brunch, or a special dinner (even if you’re not a culinary whiz, she’ll appreciate your efforts!)

2. Take your mom to the park, or local horticultural center, to admire the spring blooms. This time of year, public gardens are planted with a gorgeous array of flowers, including tulips, lilies, and daffodils. Enjoying live flowers is more environmentally-friendly than purchasing cut ones.

3. Dig through your family photographs, and select pictures of you (and your siblings) from your childhood years through the present. Scan them into your computer, create a digital slideshow, and burn a DVD (or put on a USB drive) to give to your (tech-savvy) mom.

4. Write your mom a poem or a personal letter. Words from your heart are far more touching than a greeting card or store-bought gift.

5. Give your mom the gift of your time. Offer to do household chores or maintenance tasks, or share your skills and expertise. For a formal flourish, present her with handmade coupons for your “services”—like washing the windows, waxing the floor, or installing software on her computer.

6. Wash your mom’s car. In addition to a good soap and rinse, vacuum and wipe down the interior.

7. Put together a “gourmet basket” for your mom. Pick a theme, obtain items inexpensively from the grocery store, arrange them artfully in a basket or box, and top it off with a decorative ribbon. Some themes include a pancake breakfast (gourmet pancake mix, maple syrup, preserves, and coffee beans), high tea (a selection of gourmet teas, crackers, scones, and preserves) or a chocolate lover’s dream (various bars of chocolate, and chocolate-dipped items, like pretzels, espresso beans, and dried fruit).

8. Take your mom out for a Mother’s Day picnic. Prepare salads and sandwiches, and pick a lovely setting where you can enjoy the fresh air and spring flowers. It’s a wonderful way to spend quality time with your mom, free of restaurant crowds and other distractions.

9. Instead of a buying a bouquet, include a packet of seeds in her Mother’s Day card and help her plant them in her garden.

10. Take your mom out for a cultural experience: like the ballet, opera, outdoor concert, or art exhibition.

Above all, be creative! When I was living in England, I used to photograph the blooms I encountered on my countryside walks—I then gathered them together into a Mother’s Day email for my mom, explaining what they were and where I came across them. Creating this digital bouquet was a great way to share this unique experience with her and include her in my “travels.”

I hope you all enjoy this beautiful day, and I’d love to hear how you plan to spend it!

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Real Life Minimalists – Sarah Circus Nachos

miss minimalist — Mon, 07 May 2012 07:32:49 +0000

Every Monday I post Real Life Minimalists, a profile of one of my readers in their own words. If you’d like to participate, click here for details.

This week, we have an inspiring contribution from Sarah Circus Nachos, who’s using her minimalism to work through a difficult period in her life. Visit her blog to read more of her story.

Sarah writes:

Minimalism seems very natural to me. From a very young age, I loved traveling and I really loved packing up for a big trip. Over time, I realized that the less I packed, the easier it would be to move through airports, hotels, and strange cities. Taking that idea one step further, I figured if I had less stuff overall, I might find more opportunities to travel. I took my theory to an extreme when I was 23 by packing a military surplus backpack full of clothes and books and wandering around the US for 6 months.

Somewhat more settled now, I have a new challenge to deal with. My father died 3 years ago, leaving me and my sister responsible for the contents of his 3 bedroom apartment and his storage unit. Having to relocate all of his belongings into a new 25 by 10 foot storage unit was the beginning of my “psychotic hoarder/psychotic minimalist” split personality phase. Sometimes I just wanted to curl up on top of a pile of boxes and cry. Other times I wanted to burn the storage unit to the ground.

My New Year’s resolution this year was to spend every Sunday in the storage unit, purging, sorting, prioritizing, selling, craigslisting, donating, and whatever else it takes to clear it out. I even started a blog to share my progress with my family and friends – sundaysinthestorageunit.wordpress.com .

Coming home on Sunday nights after a long stretch in the storage unit always prompts me to look around my own apartment and double check if I really need everything. There’s a perpetual Salvation Army/Goodwill basket in the living room that gets filled and emptied regularly. I’m currently in the middle of the 333 project, a challenge to only wear 33 items of clothing and accessories for 3 months. I packed all my extra clothes away, and with the exception of my heavy winter parka and sweaters, I can’t really remember what’s in there!

Minimalism for me is about having room for experiences and people. I look into the storage unit and I can say with zero hesitation that I would rather have my Dad than all his stuff. He died very unexpectedly, and if the same happens to me, I would want the people I left behind to be comforted by their memories of me, rather than burdened by all my belongings.

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

My Minimalist Filing System

miss minimalist — Thu, 03 May 2012 07:44:07 +0000

Now that I have a permanent address, I once again have a mailbox. Yikes! I forgot how much paperwork can flow into your life through that little rectangular compartment.

To keep things under control, I’ve been employing the strategies I wrote about in The Minimalist Mailbox: things like signing up for online billing, keeping my name off catalog lists, and putting a freeze on my credit report.

However, some papers still make it through my defenses (and with a mortgage, child, and business, there are some I’m obligated to keep). And for that, I’ve devised a minimalist filing system which I’ll share with you today.

It consists of four components:

My Minimalist Filing System

1. Recycling bin. Despite my best efforts, unsolicited mail still appears in our mailbox—but I make sure it doesn’t make it into our house. The recycling bin sits outside our door, and everything we don’t need (like circulars and advertisements) goes straight in.

2. Scanner. Yes, it’s another piece of office equipment; but in my experience, a scanner takes up much less space than the paper it eliminates. I scan paperwork when I need the information, but not the physical copy. This handy little device dramatically reduces my paper storage needs; given the choice, I prefer digital files over physical ones.

3. File box. If you read my book, The Joy of Less, you’re familiar with my Inner Circle (things I need at hand) and Outer Circle (things I don’t need often) strategies. I apply this to my paperwork as well. I keep the current year’s files in a small plastic file box in an accessible place—so that bills, financial statements, tax receipts, medical records and the like can be dropped into hanging folders without much fuss. That way, they’re easy to put away, and readily on hand if I need to reference them throughout the year.

4. Archive box. Once a year (usually in January), I purge my file box: scanning, shredding, or recycling the papers I no longer need, and archiving the rest. I transfer the papers I need to save into 9 x 12 envelopes (labeled by category and year), and tuck them away in a corrugated storage box. At the same time, I remove the oldest archived envelopes (one year in, one year out), assuming I no longer need them for tax, insurance, or legal purposes.

With an infant in my arms most of the day, I simply don’t have much time to deal with incoming papers. I find this simple, four-step system to be an efficient way to put them in their place, and keep them from piling up on the desk or kitchen counter. Best of all, it keeps them flowing smoothly into (and out of!) my life with a minimum amount of effort and energy.

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Real Life Minimalists: Becky L.

miss minimalist — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 07:41:09 +0000

Every Monday I post Real Life Minimalists, a profile of one of my readers in their own words. If you’d like to participate, click here for details.

I think you’ll enjoy this submission from Becky L., who tells us about her annual purge—something I also love to do each January!

Becky writes:

I married a minimalist, and he had a curious past-time in January of each year, of going through everything he owned. A consummate hiker and backpacker, he’d go through all his gear and fix, mend, and discard. He’d toss any book on the shelf that he hadn’t read that year, mend or toss clothes that were getting worn, and took a look at hobby paraphernalia that no longer suited him – an ice axe for technical climbing, jig saw puzzles, books on birding in New Zealand – and sent them out the door. He also went through all his paperwork so when tax time came, he was organized and ready to go. It goes without saying that unwanted holiday gifts went out the door as well.

I took up this annual practice with gusto! Armed with checklists and questions from the many simplicity books that abound (Do you love it? Do you need it? If you saw it in a store, would you buy it?), I roamed the house and not only purged my own stuff, but hit the kitchen, garage, and even the garden. It’s amazing how fewer plants often look better, and low-maintenance groupings that mimic the natural world are not only easier to maintain but are lovely to look at and great for attracting wildlife. I also purged many of my started projects like half a knitted hat, hand-made papers for book binding that I never got to, and quilting equipment that I kept even after deciding that quilting was designed for people more patient than I.

I make a point to tell people about this annual purge, and it’s fun to see their face fall when they realize that just tackling a closet would take them all of January. They were interested, though, and almost all of them said they needed to clutter clear themselves. Initially I enjoyed the process every year but as the days stretched on and I was still sorting and surrounded by papers and things I didn’t use, it wore me down. I also try to find homes for stuff and bring items to the break room at work with “free” signs, put them out on the curb, or donate them to a nearby pre-school that loves slightly used art supplies. This whole time-consuming process teaches me an important lesson — to lighten up so I can be doing other things with my time. I now think twice before bringing anything into the house!

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

A Kinder, Gentler Minimalism

miss minimalist — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 07:58:32 +0000

Up until now, I’ve practiced a rather extreme form of minimalism: living in tiny spaces, and carting around all my worldly possessions in a duffel bag.

But with my recent lifestyle changes (a new baby and a home purchase), I’ve given up my membership in the globetrotting, minimalist elite. I’m now ready to explore a kinder, gentler minimalism: one that will (hopefully) be relevant to a wider range of my readers.

My husband and I used to be able to get by with a pair of chairs and a coffee table, and just enough dinnerware for the two of us. Now that we’re back among friends and family, we’ll be entertaining much more frequently—our house is centrally located, and will likely be the de facto gathering place for holiday celebrations. Furthermore, we live on a street with very friendly neighbors, and I imagine many get-togethers, both impromptu and more formal, are in our future. The upshot: our sit-on-the-floor and BYOP (Bring Your Own Plate) style may no longer fly. We need someplace for guests of all ages to dine and relax comfortably.

We also have to outfit a guest room to accommodate Plumblossom’s grandparents and other out-of-town visitors.

And of course, there’s Plumblossom’s nursery, with her crib, changing table (a repurposed desk, which will serve its original purpose once she’s older), and playthings.

The result: the number of my possessions no longer tally in the double digits.

I’m okay with that, though. I’ve never subscribed to the notion that minimalism is a race for the fewest possessions, or an exclusive club of Macbook-toting nomads. In both my books and blog, I’ve always espoused a more inclusive approach to minimalism–one that is just as relevant to people with homes, children, pets, gardens…even sofas and deck chairs.

To me, minimalism is about having just enough to meet your needs. And when your needs change due to life circumstances, you adjust accordingly. The most important part—eliminating the excess—still applies.

Even though we’re now living in a larger space, every item that enters it is still carefully considered. And decluttering happens on a daily basis—whether it’s outgrown baby clothes, outdated paperwork, or random objects that have snuck their way in.

Is it harder to be minimalist in a larger space? Of course. When you have a few hundred extra square feet to put stuff, the temptation to keep it just in case is much stronger. However, after being on the road for so long, my husband and I are conditioned to toss every extraneous item the second it’s no longer needed. And you know what? When a few extra objects manage to gather in our home, I get a little thrill out of putting together a donation bag (when I owned next to nothing, I had few opportunities to declutter!).

Fortunately, our home (like many 50+ year old houses) has very little in the way of closet or storage space. Yes, I said fortunately! For as I wrote in my book, The Joy of Less, those of us with less-than-adequate storage space are the lucky ones:

The more space we have to put things, the more things we tend to keep—things we don’t always need. Those with walk-in closets and extra cupboards must summon up extra motivation to declutter; while you, on the other hand, get the benefit of a little tough love. Having less space is an asset, not a liability, and puts you on the fast track to becoming a minimalist.

While my former focus was on the bare bones possessions for a nomadic couple, my new focus is on the bare bones possessions for a more settled family of three. I’ll be exploring such issues as what furniture we now find desirable (is it time for a couch?), what we still don’t (no plans for a TV), and what we’ll need to host guests gracefully and comfortably (are eight plates too many or too few?).

It’ll be an interesting new twist on my minimalist life, and I’m curious to see how we adjust. And you never know…in a few years, we may hit the road again, Plumblossom in tow. But for now, a kinder, gentler minimalism is on the horizon.

What appeals to you: a strict, 100-item minimalism, or something more inclusive? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Real Life Minimalists: Kate Carpenter

miss minimalist — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 08:13:59 +0000

Every Monday I post Real Life Minimalists, a profile of one of my readers in their own words. If you’d like to participate, click here for details.

Today, I’d like to introduce you to Kate Carpenter, whose minimalist journey led her to a career as a writer. Be sure to visit her website to learn more about her books!

Kate writes:

Kate

My first year of college, I read a book called Living Poor with Style by Ernest Callenbach and it changed my life. For 40 years (I’m 58 now), I’ve been a “minimalist” but didn’t know what to call myself! You see, people of my generation consider ourselves to be followers of the Voluntary Simplicity movement – but we never had a catchy name (simpletons?). I went on to follow Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin, Duane Elgin, Elaine St. James, Linda Breen Pierce, Wanda Urbanska, and the other Voluntary Simplicity pioneers.

I finished college, moved to the Washington DC area, and worked my way up the corporate ladder of various accounting departments. I bought a house and a new car, but remained a minimalist – or so I thought. My possessions were few and my house was uncluttered.

But something wasn’t right.

I kept pondering and puzzling and reading and studying. In my own way, I was praying for answers. One night, while walking my dog in the quiet country dark, I started to hear a little verse in my head. “Once upon a time…Not so very long ago…Lived an ordinary woman … Out to change the status quo.” It took 4 years for all 164 verses to get put onto paper, but Lilabean: a Storybook about Simplicity for Grown-Up Girls was finally born. Its message was pretty clear. But it didn’t change my life overnight.

I was stubborn, I guess. And I had more living to do – more Life Lessons to learn.

Another 4 years produced Bertabean: a Storybook about Self-Esteem for Grown-Up Girls, and things finally started to click. My life DID change.

What I finally realized is that there is a lot more than “stuff” cluttering up our lives. Much of our clutter is mental and emotional, and that can be even more debilitating than all the physical baggage we drag around.

So I worked hard at clearing my MIND of all the socialization (brainwashing?) that had cluttered my head and obstructed my view of who I am and what I was really put here to do. I quit my paying job – “jumped into the abyss” as some say – and simply began truly living simply, regardless of how it looked to others or what they thought of my decisions. Then I wrote my latest book– ENUFF: Eliminate the Needless, the Useless, the Foolish, and the Frivolous.

And what I’ve learned from all this is that minimalism is easy when your mind is clear and your goals are crystallized and your focus is sharp. Anything that isn’t contributing to your goals is distracting you from them …ergo, it’s clutter! I finally realized – despite all the DIScouragement I got from society – that I’m not an accountant. I’m a writer. And I know that because the world’s accounting will get done without me – but the writing I have to do will not. This is what I love to do! Deep inside I must have known that when I wrote in Lilabean:

In her quest to find contentment,
She had finally made a start -
Just by listening to the feelings
That lay hidden in her heart.

“If you seek your own discovery,
You don’t have to look too far …
It’s the things that make you happy
That determine who you are.”

“Joy will lead you to the places
You were always meant to go …
And transform you into someone
You yourself would like to know.”

Find your joy. Get rid of everything that isn’t part of it. That’s minimalism!”

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Clean Slate Part 3: A Place of Our Own

miss minimalist — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 08:19:49 +0000

(Photo: Cristiano
Betta)

In my last two posts, I announced two big changes in my life: my return to the United States, and the arrival of a brand new minimalist (my little Plumblossom)!

Well, today it’s time for Big Surprise #3: my husband and I have bought a house.

When Plumblossom was born, we brought her home to our small, one bedroom, urban apartment. We had no immediate plans to move; after all, we reasoned, a tiny baby doesn’t take up much space. And on that count we were right: her crib fit into a cozy corner of our bedroom, and her wardrobe took up just a small sliver of my closet. I was ready to congratulate myself on smoothly inserting an infant into our tiny living arrangement.

What we realized: a tiny baby doesn’t take up much physical space. Auditory space, on the other hand, was a whole other matter! Our delicate flower has an impressive set of lungs, and no compunction about exercising them. Unfortunately, we were living in a high rise apartment building without soundproof walls. When she cried in the middle of the night, we always wondered if an eviction notice might be forthcoming (!).

Even before our little girl came along, my husband and I started contemplating a house purchase. For the past three years, we’ve been drifting: moving every few months between hotels, sublets, and various apartments. We really enjoyed this nomadic lifestyle…but the continual search for new digs eventually began to wear on us. We’d also grown tired of living with faulty appliances, maintenance men who popped in without notice, and all the other quirks of temporary accommodations.

But most of all, we wanted a little green space of our own. My husband and I have lived almost exclusively in urban areas since college, and always considered ourselves “city people.” But our time in England gave us a great love of the countryside, and made us yearn for some trees, some flowers, a small garden of herbs and vegetables. We wanted to be able to step outside to a quiet little oasis, to enjoy dining al fresco, and to someday watch our daughter toddle on the grass and pick wildflowers in the backyard.

We’d kept an eye on the local real estate market during my pregnancy, but never saw anything too compelling. The biggest challenge: finding a small house in our preferred area—close to my husband’s office, a charming downtown, and several beautiful parks. Such a lovely and convenient area means a high premium on land—so most of the housing stock is of the 3000+ square foot variety.

But one night at 3am, with Plumblossom in one hand and my laptop in the other, I struck gold while browsing the listings: a small, midcentury, 3 bedroom rancher on half an acre. It’s in an older neighborhood with wonderful character and mature trees—a little pocket of modesty in a rather posh area. We settled on in it thirty days later, and just recently moved in.

The house itself has an open floor plan, and lots of glass to the partially wooded backyard. We’ve already painted all the walls bright white, and love the light, airy effect. Right now, it’s a big empty space with a few pieces of furniture and a scattering of baby items. As you might guess, we have no interest in filling it up—plus, I think it’ll make a great open place for a toddler to play and run around. It also has a lovely deck, which is becoming our second living room as the days get warmer.

Although at 1700 square feet it’s considered a small house, it’s the largest space we’ve ever lived in. It may seem antithetical to the how-low-can-you-go, tiny living movement—but it’s the smallest we could find in the area (local ordinances ruled out building a tiny house), and I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m an empty space junkie.

I look forward to sharing our new space with you as we get settled. However, home improvement moves at a snail’s pace with a new baby on board. And with spring rains and warm weather coming, we’re focusing what little time and energy we have on getting the garden planted and backyard in order. However, I’m really excited about tackling the interior—and in time, look forward to exploring with you the joys and challenges of keeping things minimal in our “larger” space.

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Real Life Minimalists: Lydia

miss minimalist — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 08:01:36 +0000

Every Monday I post Real Life Minimalists, a profile of one of my readers in their own words. If you’d like to participate, click here for details.

This week, we hear from Lydia, who tells us how minimalism is helping her embrace a fabulous opportunity to study abroad!

Lydia writes:

I’ve always considered myself something of a minimalist. Even when I was a kid, I felt overwhelmed by “too much stuff”, and was happiest with just a few favorite toys and outfits. As an adult, I love sharing an apartment with a bunch of roommates, and I’ve never had more stuff than could fit in my bedroom (not counting my car, of course!). In the past year, though, I’ve been challenged to rethink whether or not I really need even that much!

Last August I went to Pennsic—it’s like a massive Renaissance faire, only instead of going home at the end of the day, you camp out with 10,000+ people for two weeks straight. I stayed in a tent with a waterproof bin full of clothes, a camping cot and sleeping bag, a cooler for food, and my ipod. And I was happier there than I had been all summer. I struggle with an anxiety disorder, and I realized afterward that I had not had a single panic attack since I unglued myself from the debt-ceiling negotiation news coverage, drove to Pennsic, and spent two weeks without news media fearmongering.

I loved that people there ate meals together around the campfire or at picnic tables set up in common areas. Most people had their own tents for sleeping in, and aside from that everything else in the campsite was shared space for socializing. In the real world everyone is so obsessed with having “their own” of everything and not having to share, from appliances and bathrooms to outdoor space and swimming pools, and I think that can isolate people. When I came back from Pennsic I gave my TV to my sister, and when something came up that I absolutely had to watch (i.e. my favorite football team in the playoffs!) I had so much fun going to a packed sports bar with friends and watching games with tons of other cheering fans.

Recently I found out that I’ve been awarded a grant to study opera in Paris. As an aspiring singer with a particular love for French Baroque opera, this is a dream come true for me. I decided right away that I would spend as little as possible on housing, furniture, and other material things there, so that I can have more money available for experiences. I’ve got my bed in one suitcase (a roll-up tatami mat and wool futon mattress, duvet, sheets and pillows), a laptop bag, a suitcase full of clothes and shoes, and another suitcase for music books and kitchen stuff. I sold all my furniture, except for a mattress and a gorgeous leaning desk/shelf set that my parents are borrowing for their guest room. Who knows how I’ll feel about how much I need to live comfortably when I get back to the US? I might decide that life is a bit too bleak without at least a few fun decorations in my living space, or I might decide I want a comfy sofa so that friends can come over and feel at home. I might want a dresser so I can shove my clothes messily in drawers without having to fold laundry! Right now, though, I’ve got the same free, joyful, happy feeling that I had at Pennsic living out of a tent. I don’t plan to buy any furniture when I get there either; I would rather spend 30 euros on a ticket to the opera than a coffee table. Wish me luck!

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}

Clean Slate Part 2: Bundle of Joy

miss minimalist — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 07:55:52 +0000

(Photo: John-Morgan)

On the course of our minimalist journey, my husband and I had never seriously entertained the idea of having children. For a long time, we couldn’t imagine how an infant/toddler/adolescent/teenager could fit into the carefree, nomadic lifestyle we had created for ourselves.

But last year, after purging all the excess from our lives, something changed.

In my book, The Joy of Less, I liken minimalism to “emptying our cups”—not for the sake of being empty, but for discovering what’s truly special to us and making room for it.

Well, after my husband and I stripped everything to the bone—giving up our home, our possessions, the expectations of others—we discovered the potential of our “empty cup”: the capacity to love, care for, and share this amazing world with a child.

So today, I’m thrilled to share with you the biggest (and littlest) surprise of all… During my sabbatical, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl!

She’s such a sweetheart, and incredibly alert, active, and curious for her age. She has the most beautiful smile, and a wise, “old soul” expression in her eyes (I like to think that babies are born knowing all the mysteries of the universe, but just lack the communication skills to share them with us ).

I know in the blogging world, there’s an expectation that I’ll share the name, photos, and other details of my new bundle of joy. After all, I’m a very proud mama. However, my husband and I have decided to keep our child’s life private. It doesn’t seem right to me that in the United States, 92 percent of children have an online presence by the time they’re two years old. Bottom line, we don’t want to make our daughter “Googleable” before she has a say in the matter.

Therefore, I’m going to resist posting all those adorable baby pics, and use a handle instead of her real name when referring to her online. It didn’t take me long to come up with the perfect one: Plumblossom. Like her namesake flower, she’s tiny and delicate in appearance (weighing only 6 pounds at birth), but hardy enough to bloom in the darkest days of winter. The plum blossom is a symbol of hope, strength, and courage—bursting forth amongst snow and barren branches, an early sign of a much-anticipated spring.

To put it poetically (as I’m wont to do), my husband and I had decluttered our lives into a pure and serene winter landscape–into which our lovely little Plumblossom bloomed, filling the space we’d created with love, light, and happiness.

Has Plumblossom turned my minimalist life upside down? Absolutely. Although I’m striving to keep things under control, I now count a crib, infant swing, play mat, board books, rattles, and a plethora of other baby items among my possessions. I’ve let go of my need to have a pristine, uber-minimalist environment in order to meet her needs—but it’s all worth it, as her smiles and coos fill our home, and hearts, with more joy than I ever imagined.

Longtime readers need not worry: this won’t turn into a “mommy blog,” and my focus will remain on minimalist living—just now with a new perspective that’ll help me relate to even more of my readers. And I’ll try my best to write something intelligible, despite my state of sleep deprivation. It’s a very exciting time in my life, and I’m looking forward to discovering, and sharing with you, the joy of less family-style!

{If you’d like to learn more about minimalist living, please consider reading my book, The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, or subscribing to my RSS feed.}