Self-Care Sundays: The Joy of Minimalism

I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time talking about physical decluttering, because Marie Kondo literally wrote the book on that, and she covers it in pretty extensive detail. Contrary to all the bullshit memes you’ve seen, Kondo never said you should only have thirty books, so all you bibliophiles don’t need to message me to tell me how awful you think she is. Instead, she says that she only has thirty books — and that you should eliminate the ones that don’t bring you joy. If your 9,263 books ALL make you happy, keep ’em. Marie Kondo doesn’t care, and neither do I.

All of that said, I think it’s important to explore the spiritual benefits of getting rid of stuff that doesn’t serve you any more. Kondo, who was a former Shinto priestess, understood — as many of us do — that simplicity can become a sacred act, a holy minimalism. In plenty of religious traditions, monks gave up stuff to get closer to god, Buddhist holy men still take a vow of minimalism. I think it’s also incredibly important to acknowledge the privilege aspect of being able to get rid of things — sometimes, you HAVE to keep old things because it’s all you’ve got the resources for. If you can’t afford to get rid of something because the cost of doing without it is too great, then keep it.

So the big question is, how to get rid of stuff? It’s hard to do, but sometimes you just have to make the conscious choice to eliminate a thing that doesn’t fit, doesn’t work, doesn’t have a purpose, doesn’t get loved. At one point, my family owned four waffle irons — and because I have celiac disease, I DON’T EVEN EAT WAFFLES. So did we need four waffle irons? No. My younger daughter makes waffles — and that’s it. So now we have a single waffle iron that will go live with her when she moves out this spring. Televisions — I had one in my bedroom that wasn’t even plugged in, and sat gathering dust for over a year before I finally rehomed it, because I barely watch tv, and when I do, I watch it on the big 55″ screen in the living room, not when I’m in bed.

I’ve learned over time that minimalism can help to heal the soul by:

• Creating priorities: there’s an intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of anything that distracts us from it. Less stuff means you can give more priority to the stuff you decide matters.
• It removes the pressure to impress — I’ve got nothing to prove by buying and using more things, and I certainly don’t have anything to prove by buying things that I don’t use.
• There’s a simplification process, because less stuff means fewer decisions. Steve Jobs wore nothing but jeans and black turtlenecks, and had a whole closet full of both of them. When he got up each morning to dress for work, he never had to spend fifteen minutes staring at his closet wondering what to put on.
• Minimalism reminds us that we’re not defined by our possessions, and allows us to reframe who and what we value in life. It redefines “what is enough for me?”
• It challenges things that hurt the soul. As we remove the Stuff, the things that bring us pain become really obnoxious and obvious. Anger and hatred in TV, movies, and on social media; cluttered living spaces, and a lack of regular solitude all start standing out. This has caused me to recognize that I value relationships and experiences far more than I do the Stuff.
• Finally, minimalism inspires creativity — abundance inspires very little, because you have everything you might ever need. Scarcity, on the other hand, is the mother of innovation. What can you do to get by when you don’t have all the things you need? A while back, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided I was going to make cinnamon rolls from scratch. If you’ve ever made cinnamon rolls from the ground up, you know you need a rolling pin to flatten the dough out. Gentle readers, I haven’t owned a rolling pin in at least fifteen years, because I never make anything that requires one. Now, I could have run to the local Big Box Store and bought a $10 rolling pin. They’re not expensive, in the grand scheme of things. But I’d probably never use it again, so it would just sit taking up space in my kitchen drawer, feeling sad and unloved. So instead, I took one of my son’s metal water bottles, filled it with cold water, and used it roll out the dough. Guess what? My cinnamon rolls were delicious, and the tool I used had no bearing on the end result — plus I saved myself the time and money it would have taken if I’d run out to buy one.

At the end of the day, I’ve realized that I don’t need as many clothes, as many appliances, as many books, as many Things as I had once thought I did. And everyone’s idea of minimalism is different — I don’t want to live in a house devoid of things that make me happy, so there are plenty of things I’ll keep for a long time. But the less stuff I have, the fewer choices I have to make, and it’s given me the freedom to evaluate whether or not I really need a new rolling pin.

Or four waffle makers.

Want to learn more about some radical self-care ideas? Check out my book Witchcraft for Healing: Radical Self-Care for Your Mind, Body, and Spirit, available November 10, 2020!