Full disclaimer; I might not fit the definition of real minimalism (is there a definition? I don’t even know!)
Even now, as I write this, I’m sitting alongside the sunny wall of my nicely furnished granny flat, in my favourite possession, my hanging egg chair. This is where Bobo and I used to sit, and I’ll be the first to admit, I’m attached to that.
And inside my home is a closet full of clothing, a healthy stack of books, and more pairs of bikini’s than a self proclaimed title of minimalism would ever allow.
Still, I’m on the light end of the hoarder spectrum for sure. And as I make my plans to leave this house (insert single tear rolling down cheek here) I’m wondering…
What do I take?
You see, I’m not even totally sure where I’m going yet. I’m almost sure I’m moving to Bali, but there are back-up plans to go back to California or Hawaii too. I’ve done research on Siargo Island, the south of Sri Lanka, Kerala and Nicaragua.
Also, I don’t have any idea how long I’ll be gone. Sometimes I imagine I’ll be back in a year setting up my egg chair to share with a fluffy puppy (can you say chocolate Labradoodle, anyone?). Other times I imagine I’ve found the perfect job somewhere, that I’ll stay for years and never make it back.
The best part is, I like it that way. I have no intention of knowing.
Yet here’s the quandary, what do I do with all my stuff? When I go, what do I let go of, and what do I bring? And since my nice plans to move got massively shifted on Friday, I’ve only got one week to decide. (Holy crap!)
Do I take this board?
So, what do I keep?
I mean, I’m a surfer right? So I need boards. But how many boards, and what type? I love stand-up paddle surfing, and long-boarding too, but I can’t really cart a SUP, a mal, and a handful of shortboards around the world, can I?
And what if I want to go mountain biking, or kayaking? What if I end up in Japan for the ski season?
Amidst all of this thinking and wondering (and dare I say stressing), I’m realising that this is the best damn problem a girl could ever have.
And as excitement blooms around me the answer seems easy…
Let it all go…
So there it is, I’m going travelling with as little shit, as much minimalism, and as much trust as I possibly can.
For many people, the idea of getting rid of all their belongings in one week might seem daunting. But I’ve got something up my sleeve that makes it easier… I’ve done it before. Only last time my minimalism wasn’t my choice. Then, it took a few hours (not a week) to dispose of most of what I owned.
Let me take you back a few years so I can tell you what I mean…
The house fire
You see, It was December 2013, and it was a Sunday night. I was down in San Francisco at my bestie’s house after a fun weekend out with the San Francisco fire department. It was after midnight when the phone rang, and I knew it was trouble as soon as I saw my neighbour’s name “Mike” light up the screen.
“Your house is on fire”.
I thought he was exaggerating. I tried to ignore the sound of chainsaws on the other end of the line. But one hour and forty five minutes later I stood at our broken down front door with two sweaty fireman and my mouth hit the floor. (Did you catch the irony… a firefighter standing at the front door of her burned down house?)
That house belonged to my good friend Tera, and I’d been renting a room from her since March. At the time I’d been on a great salary for a decade, and I owned tons of really nice stuff. (I’d also been secretly dreaming of moving to Australia, but that’s a whole other blog post on how I think the universe intervened)
Sifting through the rubble
Over the next few days I stood outside in the freezing December weather, sifting through my asbestos, smoke, and water damaged belongings. I wore gloves and a mask to lessen the headache I was getting from all the nasty smoke.
Sounds terrible, right?
Poor me?
Not so quick…
It was awesome.
Ok, not at first, I’ll admit. At first it was kinda shocking and weird. And it did suck to see how hard it was for my friend Tera.
But as I picked up each item, filled out the corresponding line on my insurance paperwork, and then threw it in the trash, I felt a little lighter. (P.S. seriously, get renters/contents insurance: it was the best $20/month I ever spent: this experience would NOT have been cool if I’d been uninsured)
The result of the fire was that I ended up with a very a healthy insurance check… and hardly any stuff.
Before the fire, if someone had asked me if I’d mind if all my shit burnt up, I would’ve been like, “Hell’s yes! I love that sweater, and those jeans, and that top”. As it turned out, I didn’t care about them at all. Not even for those awesome ass-hugging jeans. In fact, I was downright stoked.
My minimalism
I got to take a portion of my money and go shopping for new clothes. And I made a life changing decision about minimalism then. From now on, I was only going to buy what I needed. I carefully picked out clothes in exactly the style I liked , and I made sure they all matched.
Instead of buying new furniture and housewares I bought a 16 feet Casita Trailer (which, to you Aussies, is a bad-ass little retro style caravan) and I had to fit all of my clothes into its teeny tiny wardrobe.
Now, I totally understand that something like this (moving into a truck and trailer instead of a house) would be super scary to most people, but I’d already been homeless before. I was practiced at being on the road and I already knew how totally awesome being free like that could be. (You have to check out my blog post, the first time I went homeless).
The day I picked up my new Casita and dove away in my Tacoma
What’s the point of all of this?
In Buddhist practice there’s a central teaching called Dependent Arising. It’s complicated, but you could say it means, “because this happens, that happens”. It’s like a really deep understanding of cause and effect, and how complex it is that each thing affects another.
There’s much more to it than that, of course, but in this simple context, you can say it means:
+Once upon a time I went homeless (by choice) and learned that it’s super fun to live out of one bag of clothes.
+Later, when my house burned down I was forced to do it again, but I wasn’t afraid because I knew it was fun. In the house fire I also learned than I didn’t really care about my stuff at all.
+And now, that makes giving up my nice Harvey Norman kettle and my jute throw rug a pretty damn easy decision.
Get it?
But, let’s talk about Fear…
Sometimes, it’s simply fear that holds you back from doing the things that make life easy, like letting go of shit you don’t need: whether it is people, places or things.
That fear isn’t always real. We stay stuck, clinging and attached. And that clinging causes problems. But, if you work through one of your fears once (by choice or not) it can seriously empower you the next time something sticky comes along.
The truth is, I am afraid now, for sure. Fears always come and go. I have the same questions as everyone else facing a big move. What if I give up my stuff but then I come back in six months and need it? Will I wish I’d kept my bedside tables? What if I never find an apartment as cute as this one again? What if leaving this house means I’ll never get these memories of Bobo back?
You see, my experiences have taught me there’s not much truth in my fear. They showed me that as much as I think I love those bedside tables, I probably won’t ever think about them again.
Most likely, I’ll be too busy making a new house into a home. Or maybe, where I’m going, I wont need that sweater.
And Bobo? Well, Bobo’s in my heart now.And I can take his memories wherever I go.
Don’t forget to check out my post The First Time I Was Homeless
