By Boyd Lemon / Guest contributor
I was introduced to minimalism when I got divorced and decided to live in the spare room of a friend and his wife and baby. I thought it would be a good transition from being married to living alone, and I could save money to get out of the debt my wife and I had incurred. I enjoyed the freedom of doing what I wanted when I wanted, but I was surprised that I also enjoyed the small space I had to myself. My room was just big enough for a bed, a chair and a small desk. There was no room to store a lot of stuff. Having lived in large homes in upper-middle-class neighborhoods for most of my adult life, I worried about this adjustment.
Much to my surprise, I didn’t miss the room, nor did it bother me to live in a poor, central Los Angeles neighborhood. I enjoyed living among the diversity. I loved walking to the little, family-owned, Salvadoran restaurant that served a spicy chicken soup with homemade tortillas that had me salivating during the walk there.
Sunday morning walks were especially pleasant as the gospel music from the many church choirs wafted through the air, especially in warm weather when the doors of the non-air-conditioned churches were open. Eventually, I moved to my own apartment in Marina Del Rey, but it too was small, as was my first apartment in Oxnard.
Later, when I lived in Boston and Paris and back in Ventura again, I lived in one-room apartments and didn’t miss more space. When I moved to Boston, I gave away all of my stuff, except my writing materials, clothes, some books and mementos that I stored. I consciously kept only those things I would use or wanted to save as mementos (keeping those to a minimum). I gave away even more when I moved from Boston to Paris. I had become a minimalist in my old age, and I loved it. Acquiring a lot of stuff and living in a large living space means that you spend a lot of time buying and taking care of your stuff and cleaning and taking care of your living space, instead of actually living. Now, I live in a one-room cottage behind a main house, surrounded by a beautiful garden that is maintained by my landlady. I spend virtually no time repairing things, buying things (except food and a minimal amount of clothing — and writing and drawing materials, of course), cleaning things or worrying about things. I can thoroughly clean my whole living space, including the kitchen and bathroom, in an hour.
According to Joshua Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, who have written a book and regularly blog on minimalism, “Minimalism is a tool to get rid of superfluous excess in favor of focusing on what’s important in life so you can find happiness, fulfillment, and freedom.”
I recommend downsizing and minimalising. Do you really need that big house in the suburbs? If you expect visits from multiple children and grandchildren, for the few times they visit, wouldn’t it be more practical if you all stayed in a hotel? Maybe a small apartment in a city where you can walk to the bank, the post office, cafes, restaurants and shops would provide a better lifestyle. I had never lived in a big city (Los Angeles is so spread out, it doesn’t qualify). It was wonderful to walk out my front door in Boston or Paris and take care of the day’s errands in a few minutes without getting in a car. In Boston I could stop and chat with neighbors along the way, which I couldn’t do from a car.
How much of that stuff you have accumulated do you really need or want? Keep an open mind to changes that would reduce stress and expense, making more time to follow your passion and enjoy life. There is no reason to live blindly the same way you have been living for the past 40 years. Now is your chance to change your lifestyle and really live the way that gets you the most out of life (and, if it matters to you, you leave a smaller footprint on the earth if you minimalize).
What about mementos, stuff that has sentimental value because it reminds you of a loved one or pleasant memories of your past? Much of this type of stuff, if not monetarily valuable, is irreplaceable. Right? Your little league baseball glove, your Barbie Dolls, doilies your mother crocheted, your soccer trophy, the family photo albums. You just can’t get rid of that stuff. You claim those are the memories of life, but are they? How often do you look at that stuff? Do you need to keep your mother’s doily to remember her? Do you need the soccer trophy to remember that championship game? The answers are all, “No.” Your memories are not material things. They are in your mind, and you don’t need stuff to remind you. Have all the photos professionally scanned and copied to a disk that you can view on a computer. I’m not saying that you have to throw everything away. I am simply suggesting that you consider how much stuff you really need to keep? How much clutter can you remove to simplify your life?
— Boyd Lemon is a retired lawyer, who re-invented himself as a writer, living in Ventura. He recently returned from a year in France and Italy and is writing a book on retirement. This column is an excerpt from his new book: “Retirement: A 10 Step Program to the Best Time of Your Life.” He expects it to be released early in 2012. Additional excerpts will appear in subsequent columns. His memoir, “Digging Deep: A Writer Uncovers His Marriages,” published last May, is about his journey to understand his role in the destruction of his three marriages. He believes it will help others to deal with their own relationship issues. His book about his year of adventure living in Paris and Tuscany, “Eat, Walk, Write,” was published on the last day of 2011. Excerpts and information on all his books are on his website, http://www.BoydLemon-Writer.com