The Cruisin’ Minimalist

When I view minimalist art, I do not appraise it and declare, “That’s not minimalism.  It’s not doing without.”  In fact, the idea that minimalism is about focusing on that which we relinquish or don’t have is an entirely distorted perspective on simplicity.  Minimalist art does without nothing.  It is akin to the old wood carver, who was asked how he decided what to carve out of his length of raw wood.  His reply was simple.  “I merely look at the wood, and see what is in there.  Then I just get rid of the stuff that doesn’t belong.”

I have heard this analogy before, in various settings.  Minimalism focuses on finding what should be there, and nothing more, whether it involves interior design, business operations or lifestyles.  I regularly read blogs and articles by those who espouse minimalism, simple living, voluntary simplicity and frugal living.  Many of those writers espouse getting rid of stuff, and living with less.  This seems intuitive, since minimal implies living with the minimum of something. I, too, consider myself to be a minimalist.  I have relatively few household possessions, keep my wardrobe to the most basic, have forfeited our second vehicle, shop for bargains, employ those assets that can do double duty, and so on.  These all are tenets of voluntary simplicity, as it is commonly accepted.  Yet, I also indulge myself.

Minimal art does the same.  Minimalist art decries the clutter of unnecessary elements, and, in turn, highlights the focus, and the most significant facets of the work.  In my book, The Last Drop Of Living: A Minimalist’s Guide To Living The High Life On A Low Budget, I draw the comparison between minimal living and displays in an art gallery or museum.  The focal piece on the gallery is not hidden by an assortment of frivolous support pieces.  Instead, it likely will be found on a pedestal apart from other pieces, or on a naked wall, featuring only that artwork.  It is the most critical component, the only element that matters.  It is not diminished by being alone.  Rather, it is enhanced.  Minimalism should allow us to find the most important things in our life, and focus upon them.

With that in mind, I built my personal strategy for “going minimal.”  It involved a very basic process: decide what is important to me, and what is unimportant.  Next, I opted to relinquish  those things and ideas that may have value, but that were less vital than others.  Both my wife and I chose to focus on our leisure as vital to our enjoyment.  Essential to those recreational priorities was the idea of cruising.

Today, I write this blog on board the @Norwegian Pearl, as we leave the Grand Stirrup Cay for our next Caribbean destination.  How is such a lavish holiday “minimalist?”  Simple.  In exchange for giving up frequent dinner-out evenings, a second vehicle, extra home furnishings, a big house, etc., we are able to apply some of our surplus resources to a great holiday.  It is the second of four cruises we will have taken within the year.

But sacrificing in one area of living and then splurging in another is like saying, “Well, I stuck to my ‘no smoking’ pledge for six months, so now I’m going to celebrate by having a huge cigar, or overeating for the next six months.” 

As a dedicated minimalist, I need to show  restraint in the area of my holidays, as well, if I wish to avoid my own internal dissonance.  So, I cruise minimally, as well.  Websites like @www.vacationstogo.com (+mmilheim@vacationstogo.com), @www.cruisedirect.com, individual cruise line websites (like +www.ncl.com (@NorwegianCruiseLine@email.ncl.com)) and several other discount providers offer discounts that may be as much as 80% off the brochure price.  By screening carefully, one can boast of significant savings, and demonstrations of frugality.  By purchasing in a 90 day window prior to sailing, prices may drop further.  By booking inside staterooms, you are able to obtain rock-bottom prices (inside staterooms, after all, are only used for eight hours each night, while the rest of our time is spent on shore or on deck.).

When I factor in the cost of food, entertainment and supplies, plus the cost of accommodations, I discover that each day on a cruise costs less than the cost of a budget motel room each night!

Ask the more rigid advocates of minimalism whether we truly can be considered to be living a life of voluntary simplicity and you will receive a resounding “No.”  That’s fair enough.  They see the world differently than I do.  But tell me, would you rather live in a cardboard box, eat scraps and proclaim yourself a minimalist, or would you prefer to get the most out of each moment at the best price while being ostracized by the self-professed puritans?  Live minimally.  Cruise to your heart’s content!

Minimalism In The Big City

Voluntary simplicity and minimal living have great cachet in today’s fragile economic times.  Frugal living is nothing new, and simple living has bee the mainstay of many environmentally aware people for decades.  However, the concept has not gained widespread acceptance for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the tendency to look to rural living or escaping from the “big city”  standards of living as the primary technique for achieving a simple lifestyle.  Yet, living minimally actually is easier to undertake in urban centres, even though the social pressures to conform to more materialistic lifestyles are significant.

Living with less is the primary focus of this lifestyle, but, in truth, the most gratifying aspect of cutting back on frills is the ability to focus on the most important aspects of our lives.  That is unique to each of us, yet proponents of the way of living too often urge us to adopt their own perspectives and interpretations of simple living.   It is far from an accurate or satisfying approach.

My wife and I opted to live in a yurt, off the grid, for several years.  However, I would never advocate that everyone else who wants to embrace voluntary simplicity move to a rural environment, live off the grid or build their own yurt.  It was our personal preference.

Other acquaintances have employed a more basic approach to living in the city, without any difficulty and with a lot of enjoyment.

In the city, one has greater access to options than in the country, and greater opportunities to employ alternative strategies to reduce ownership while increasing enjoyment of assets and activities.

One of the greatest materialistic and economic burdens is the automobile.  Yet, any owner will tell you that the car is essential to daily life.  There are several options, however, to reduce reliance on personal ownership of a vehicle in the city.  While public transportation is the most frequently cited substitute, other alternatives include “car sharing” (where owners either opt for specific times of the day or days of the week to use a shared vehicle),  commuter vehicles (mopeds, etc), bicycles, weekend vehicle rentals (or on-demand rentals) and seasonal leasing.

Of course, to reduce the need for a vehicle, simply either move closer to work or search for a job closer to home!

In the 1970s, many young people (most often, young men) cut housing costs by sharing a house.  The modern-day extension of this concept is for homeowners who wish to cut housing costs to lease out rooms or share the house with other renters.

In the vein of shared housing, consider sharing other entertainment assets.  On average, a video or DVD is viewed fewer than three times, yet millions of us buy and store vast collections of movies.  Similarly, print books gather dust on the shelves after one or two readings.  Why not develop an exchange program with friends, passing these movies, CDs and books or magazines among the members of the group.  Lower cost, greater reach of each piece of entertainment!  Even many e-books can be shared or “loaned” on Amazon and other e-book vendors.  Hundreds of thousands of free songs and books are available, legally.

Inexpensive entertainment can become free entertainment, if you opt for “open house” days at local zoos, art galleries, museums and even local high school drama productions.  In summer, most cities offer myriad free entertainment, including bands, dance groups and theatre.

Many places offer discounts for groups of six or more people.  Inquire as to whether the entertainment venue that you wish to visit will provide a bulk rate, and then arrange for a group outing.

Weekly visits to restaurants form the backbone of the food service industry.  However, home-based parties provide a much more relaxed atmosphere.  Consider arranging for a regular rotation of hosted dinner parties (e.g. each member of a group of eight hosts once every two months).   

There are hundreds of ways to minimize costs while simplifying your life in the big city.  Most rely on the principle of owning less, or getting more mileage out of each possession.  Be creative, and the need to own will become less of an addiction, or even a craving.  At the same time, you will find that your budget dollars last much longer!

Micro-lending, Telephone Banking and M-Pesa For Minimalists

In a part of the world hardly known for its economic innovations, a revolution in finance offers a concept that is a brilliant solution for North Americans: M-Pesa.

M-Pesa is a cellular-telephone money-handling idea that allows Kenyans to store money on their cell phones, transfer the money across the country, and avoid costly bank fees in the process.  It is a concept that provides a real stimulus for commerce and micro-business development.

In other parts of Africa, another innovation – micro-lending – offers a platform on which budding entrepreneurs with creative ideas and a commitment to success can build micro- and extremely small businesses through funding sources that may provide as little as $20 for a business start-up.  Yet, this supposedly pathetic funding model has resulted in financial independence and freedom from abject poverty for thousands of Africans without access to conventional financing.

Ironically, both concepts would work in western economies, but have been eschewed, largely because they lack the glamour, polish and complexity of conventional business models held out as being the most efficient in our North American markets.  Particularly, both schemes are adaptable for those of us who embrace the minimalistic mantra for living: simple is better.  M-Pesa’s equivalent – telephone banking – has been usurped by the domestic financial community in North America, with, aside from PayPal, the only significant cellular banking formats being conducted through one’s existing banking institutions or credit card providers.

M-Pesa has grown beyond Kenya, to countries like South Africa and Tanzania, where geography and weak banking infrastructure make access to finances difficult.  The concept, though, allows for users to hold money on their phones, then attend at any of myriad kiosks in these countries, where they are able to obtain actual cash to make purchases or pay bills where cellular funds would not be accepted.  This component of M-Pesa overlaps into conventional North American debit systems.

Micro-lending, like M-Pesa, has grown out of the unique, impoverished demands of Africa.  As an option to no funding whatever, or worse, loan sharks, workers can borrow money from a non-profit micro-lender to establish a very localized business, obtain raw materials or inventory or expand an existing cottage micro-business.  A mere $20 loan can provide economic stability that will enable an undertaking, otherwise doomed to failure, to flourish.

Again, like M-Pesa, micro-lending is a concept that would work well in North American systems, if not for our myopic belief that “big” is the only way and that any lending needs the financial skirt and blouse of respectability and perception of quality.  In fact, micro-lending on a community basis may be nothing more complex than a bartering system, using cash instead of goods.  Micro-lending can take place, based on faith and the security of future product and/or service.

Since conventional capitalism seems to be reluctant to embrace something so base as an M-Pesa or micro-lending network, the opportunity exists for those of us who embrace simplicity.  Networks of money exchanges could be set up, with little difficulty and no risk to lenders, but using only one centrally managed bank account and a team of volunteer overseers.  The equivalent to M-Pesa similarly could flourish, using a combination of barter and social network tenets, at almost no cost to the participants.  Yet, established financial institutions would, most likely, seek to block such initiatives, ostensibly because it would be perceived as risky for individuals, but, in actuality, to protect the institutional lenders’ territory.

Such a concept – discarding establishment corporate power – probably would be welcomed enthusiastically by such fringe groups as survivalist and anti-government bodies, and, in turn, be viewed suspiciously by those of us who may be more mainstream.  This should not keep us from, at least, exploring the potential in these viable ideas.  All that we require is a willingness to be open to the proposal, and identification of individuals or groups willing to take the lead in setting up M-Pesa and Micro-lending for Americans.  Are you one such person?

Creeping Materialism

I didn’t notice that we were closet materialists until  …. well, until we emptied out all our closets!

Last fall, my wife and I reluctantly moved out of our yurt for the winter months, and purchased an old home in desperate need of extensive repairs nearby.  There were a few reasons for the decision. 

First, at age 60, I am getting somewhat reluctant to shovel snow from a driveway that is 975 yards long, in a Manitoba winter.  On average, we would be shovelling ten to twelve times per year, and, after doing it twice in one week last winter, I knew that I did not want to do it again.  Being a bit of an eco-freak, I also refuse to buy a tractor or snow blower, just yet.  So, it was shovel or shove off.  I chose the latter.

Second, also because I am a bit of an eco-freak and consider myself to be handy, I felt that, if I upgraded the windows, doors, insulation and heating system on this old house, the home would be a great year-round retirement place, at a very good price, for some lucky buyer.

Third, I was not yet ready for full retirement, and this project would provide me with a fair amount of exercise, a little extra cash and a chance to learn new curse words as I demolished the old interior.  (I did learn those new words, by the way.)

But moving for only the winter months meant that we opted to buy a few new items of furniture, new window coverings, new fixtures, a few new tools, new accessories for staging the home when we sold, and even new clothes (because the snow was too deep to get back to the yurt, in winter, when we left for vacation).

This spring, we put the house up for sale.  It didn’t sell.  Then, it didn’t sell.  And, by late summer, it still didn’t sell. So, we put the land and yurt up for sale.  In two days, it sold.  Then, on the day after closing the deal on the yurt, a potential buyer offered us an acceptable price on the house.  We didn’t sell. 

So now, we had to move everything from the yurt to the house. That was when we discovered that we were closet materialists.  In a strange way, we were “outted” by a lack of closets.  Today, our garage is overflowing with surplus possessions.  Our home is as full as any other materialist’s home, but with a strange assortment of stuff that we neither wanted nor needed, but purchased, “just in case.”  Extra spring jackets, extra pictures, extra seating, extra space heaters, extra lighting, extra lawn accessories and so on. We have three air compressors (for roofing), since one failed on the day we needed it and the other was trapped, by the snow, at the yurt.    We have four hammers, extra cabinets, two sofas, two barbeques, an extra oven, two washers, two dryers and four ladders.

I only purchased what I felt we absolutely needed, when we needed it.  Yet, as you can see from this partial list, I have a surfeit of stuff.  This is the most commonly travelled path to materialism: we fail to plan ahead, we purchase for the moment and we confuse wants with needs.  It is creeping materialism.

This weekend, though, we will hold a garage sale.  Regardless of the price, we will be unburdening ourselves of our excess.  Anyone need an air compressor for a buck? And, do you know where I can by an extra yurt?

Labelling Minimalism, Voluntary Simplicity, Simple Living and Frugal Lifestyles

The most significant problem with labels such as minimalist, living simply, voluntary simplicity or frugal living is that the categorizing itself is purely subjective.  A minimalist may eschew all possessions, or focus on a few premium pieces.  Voluntary simplicity suggests that one can acquire anything he wants, but opts for a Spartan existence. Frugal lifestyles seem to imply that the subject lives “on the cheap” with everything.  Living simply, too, evokes images of backwoods, back-to-the-earth survivalism.  Yet, each may describe the same lifestyle.  Rather than attempting to label, it is easier to visualize the concept of selective possession, and view true minimalism as a way of filtering out the excesses.

I, for example, own few material possessions, live in a yurt and often harvest wild plants.  Yet, far from being bereft of money or liquid assets, we own a newer Prius, holiday three or four times each year in exotic or far-flung locales and live a life free of worry about finances.  Our choices are the envy of many friends, yet are options available to anyone who wishes to prioritize his life similarly to us.  We do not measure ourselves by what we own, but how we live.  We own few tangibles, yet also own a library of memories and pleasurable moments.

How many of us, though, are mentally and financially prepared to make the sacrifices that allow us to make choices focused on voluntary simplicity?  A simple test will reveal our capacity to not only adapt, but to embrace this alternative way of living.  Oddly, the first time I tested myself using this simple strategy, I felt significant stress and anxiety – a little like being lost, alone and in a strange country.

 Choose a mid-week day for your trial. Leave home without your cash, credit or debit cards, and no means to access them.  If you take the bus or subway to work, carry the tokens essential for a trip to and from work, nothing more.  No coffee money, no gift cards for restaurants and so on.  If possible, leave your cell phone at home, and, under no circumstance use it to access a friend’s support or make purchases.  Sounds simple, right?  Almost certainly, the minute you are isolated from any means of funds to make spontaneous purchases, you will begin to go through a withdrawal, regardless how minor.  Yet, do we really need that morning latte, the afternoon drink, the chance to make an impulse buy?  A mere day of deprivation will reveal just how essential these comfort buys are to you, and whether you are emotionally ready to embrace a minimalistic lifestyle wholeheartedly.

That one day was tough?  Now set yourself up for three days, or a week. 

My first test, predictably, found me longing for my daily coffee fix, and wondering what I would do if a crisis occurred.  The fact that no such dilemma had confronted me for months (or perhaps years) prior was not material.  The “what ifs” drove my thinking for much of that day.  However, at the end of the day, I discovered that I was not embracing my return to materialism, but was, instead, exhilarated by my newly found freedom.  I have always been a spendthrift or a tightwad, depending upon the moment and the mood.  For years, I carried upwards of four to six thousand dollars cash in my pockets, and my low-limit credit card as backup.  Now, I carry no credit cards, no debit cards, and rarely have more than fifty cents in my pocket.  Do I long for the days of superfluous cash?  Hardly. 

The measure of whether you, too, are suited to involve yourself in a life of voluntary simplicity  really is whether you fear the lack of possessions or love the thrill of attempting to discard all of the excess you own.  In order to adopt this new way of viewing your possessions, you need to adopt a new way of viewing your life.  Is your life defined by the moments of pleasure you get from all of life, or is it defined by the status you feel that you acquire by owning and displaying material items?  Each of us finds our oasis of enjoyment in life uniquely, and the owner of a $450,000 sports car or a $3,000,000 painting is no less entitled to enjoy life his way as you are to choose a more focused yet Spartan way of living.  The labels attached to materialism or minimalism do not define you or your priorities.  You define, by the route you choose.  A minimalist simply chooses to cozy up to fewer possessions, and more moments.  Yet, even each minimalist is uniquely different from the next, regardless of the label attached.

Minimal Living Provides Opportunity To Spread Wealth

If minimalism or voluntary simplicity is about living with less, then the obvious corollary to the concept of minimal living is that such a frugal lifestyle will open up a surfeit of resources for other uses. I have discussed in many of my other articles that my minimalistic focus is toward enjoying the newly filtered aspects of life more thoroughly by de-cluttering my environment.
However, I have no desire to relinquish the pleasure that I gain from productive work. Thus, while I free up time to enjoy more targeted pleasures by eliminating redundancies and excesses, I also free up money.
Therein is one of the real bonuses of simple living: the ability to use surplus income for purposes that I find worthy; namely, a variety of charitable causes.
For instance, I have revived a cooperative housing project initiative that will enable those people who may not be able, otherwise, to afford home ownership, to engage in a strategy to purchase their individual homes through a group buying initiative. With my surplus free time and, fortunately, surplus income due to my frugal living approach, I am able to give back in areas of my own choosing.
Perhaps many aspiring minimalists are undertaking this new lifestyle because of budget constraints, or environmental concerns, or simply because of social conscience. Regardless, the new freedom that one discovers as priorities are rearranged to suit the minimalistic approach allow for more freedom to be charitable. It is often an unexpected frill that flowers from one’s new lifestyle.
Psychologists almost universally agree that a great contributor to unhealthy stress is the lack of choice. By freeing resources, by being less reliant on material success or need, a person is afforded a greater freedom to choose what is important individually. It is true, however, that when a person chooses to “ cut to the bone” on luxuries, and cuts the reserves that provide a “soft cushion” in times of financial hardship, a degree of stress results. The stress of facing a short-term bout of belt tightening on a frugal budget is far from the stress, though, than the stress of financial crisis when one is burdened with enormous monthly expenses. By trimming overhead, you open the door for more choices.
It is ironic that the greatest contributors to charities, per dollar earned, and the greatest number of volunteer hours committed are given by those people who live in more modest communities, states or provinces, and that those most likely to give in a crisis are those that have experienced a crisis of their own.
By entering the world of modest living through voluntary simplicity, a person almost automatically is drawn toward charity, volunteerism and community service, and, in turn, reaps the enormous benefit of reaching out to others.
As you contemplate your foray into minimal living, you may want to set out a template, or set of objectives, and include in that template the anticipated or sought-after benefits (as well as drawbacks). Work into your new budget an allowance for both time and money given to those in need, and establish that allowance as a priority. Simply by laying out, concretely and publicly, your intention to use your newly discovered freedom to benefit others, you will discover that your focus on what is significant in life alters dramatically. Again, it is an established psychological principle that, when a person publicly commits, even in a modest way, to a position or goal, he more adamantly defends and works toward that position in the future. Think, for example, of Weight Watchers or AAA meetings, where a public statement of commitment is used to drive dedication to an objective.
Consider that, as you gain freedom from stress and financial or material dependence for yourself, you also are opening the door for a more altruistic you. Go minimal, but give it your maximum effort!

Living With Less Does Not Always Mean Doing It Yourself

One of the problems inherent in “going minimal” is the tendency to radicalize. That is, some of us assume that minimalism requires that we not only do without every luxury and most essentials, but that we involve others at a minimal level in every purchase. We often suppose that doing with less means doing it yourself.
Need an oil change? It must be a minimalistic approach to do it yourself. Want a special meal, such as a lasagne? One has to obtain the ingredients and make it oneself. Of course, a true minimalist must do her own vehicle repairs, make his own clothes, grow every food item and complete every repair or household renovation alone.
These are just a few of the myths of minimal living.
Let us take a quick look, for example, at that lasagne dinner. Typically, a 2-pound store-bought, ready-made lasagne will cost you $5.99 to $9.99. Your total cost, including cooking in the oven for 45 to 60 minutes, will be $6.11 to $10.11, or $3.05 to $5.06 per pound. However, calculate the individual costs of buying the ingredients. Cheese, lean ground beef, spinach, spices and noodles will end up costing you at least $6.80 per pound if you buy the size required to make a 2-pound lasagne. Cooking will take two hours, for an additional cost of $0.22, while cleanup of the baking pan and utensils will add another $0.30-.40 to the total. This doesn’t factor in the cost of the pan & utensils, or place a value on the two hours that it may take to make the meal. Total savings, per pound, of buying the ready-made meal will be up to $4.37! Hardly worth the effort, is it, unless you prefer the quality and uniqueness of a homemade meal?
How about that oil change? With a litre of oil costing, on average, $4.19 and a filter $6-12, a four-litre oil change will cost $23.76, versus the $29.95 for a shop to do it. Yet, you don’t have to worry about the cleanup and environmental impact, or the cost of oil drain pans, jack stands, etc. It’s almost a fair trade to farm out the task.
Don’t even consider doing your own repairs on a new car. Just the OBII-compliant computer tester will set you back $100 or more, and you haven’t begun to figure out how to do the repairs, with the few outdated tools that you own. Each new car demands its own specialty tools to conduct repairs. However, buying the new car is more environmentally friendly, and generally more cost-efficient than maintaining the old one.
A true minimalist may want to mend his own clothes, make his own curtains, upholster his own furniture. Aside from the grotesquely ugly results that are likely, this option, too, is impractical, even for a minimalist. However, if you find someone who is handy with a sewing machine or needle and thread, and you have the cash, consider providing the material, while your partner provides the handiwork and skill necessary to make clothes, drapes or couch covers.
Similarly, home renovation skills are seldom within the reach of the typical homeowner. You may be great at rough carpentry, but lousy at finishing work. You may know the basics of plumbing, and fail miserably at electrical repair. Here is where a collage of colleagues, with compatible and exchangeable skills provides a real advantage. You may undertake the framing (or supervision) of a garage for a neighbour, while another provides skills at concrete work and a third can wire the building. When you need your recreation room renovated, those same people can pool their skills to assist you, and so on.
Have a large back yard? Grow your vegetables, and a few for your neighbours, in exchange for a few trinkets that you require from them.
The last three examples are perfect illustrations of the benefit of bartering for the frugal individual, or those who favour the minimal living approach. Bartering, or swapping services and goods not only lessens demand for duplicate items or redundant services, but reduces the cost to each individual in the barter group. Barter groups may be loosely arranged, or established as a cooperative, with specific assigned values for work and goods that are exchanged, with a “banking” option that allows a member to provide his goods into the pool, and obtain the benefit that he wants or needs at a later time.
Minimalism is not about doing it yourself. It is about seeking the path that is least intrusive, with the greatest benefit, to obtain those needed items, while recognizing that “need” and “want” are not synonymous, and that using less is a pathway to getting more out of your life, each day.

Books Versus E-Books

A dieter’s greatest scourge is temptation. That luscious chocolate-encrusted strawberry croons our names until we respond. That succulent dessert begs to be devoured.
A minimalist diet, unfortunately, has the same nemesis. Temptation draws us whenever we deprive ourselves of those things that we have elevated to the status of delightful. Minimalism, though, holds that “doing without” is the epitome of success.
Since I chose the minimal lifestyle, the temptation imp has stood in my way frequently, and I have been compelled to choose what really is significant in my daily life. Reading is one of those essentials.
Yet, I am “old school;” some say, a dinosaur. I love the feel, the heft, the connection to printed and bound reading materials. Part of the joy of reading a good book is to collapse into a comfortable chair, or sprawl on a lush lawn with an engrossing book in my hands. It is a route to losing the reality of the world around me.
I have found that reading an article on my laptop lacks the tactile pleasure of savouring a pocket novel or hard cover classic. The LCD screen seems to flicker, or the sunlight makes reading impossible, or the computer must be plugged in after an hour or so. There are myriad excuses as to why e-books are inferior to bound copies of the same plots and documents. Yet, by the end of 2010, over 10% of all books sold were in electronic, or digital form. The world is embracing the new technology, while I cling to old ways.
Cognitively, I see e-books as an expression of minimalism. No wasted paper, no bulk or heft to them. A hundred thousand books takes up no more space than a hundred on my shelf. The physical impact of a wall of leather bound books smacks of achievement and intellectual superiority. The display of the newest best seller, in hard cover, says “I have the money to pay the price of this collection of pulp,” while the discreet nature of an e-book offers none of the status or prestige of a bound copy.
The guilt of indecision, and the social pressure of always conforming to the world’s perception of what constitutes a minimalist drives my choice as to whether I should purchase an e-book or a printed one. The very decision to buy either is at the heart of the minimalist dilemma.
Yet, minimalism is about prioritizing. In the end, I choose to buy bound readers when I want the joy of relaxing and reading. I do not want to be tied to a darkened room, or carry my laptop (or Kindle, if I owned one) with me, in case the mood to read attacks me. I choose to read digital media when I want to conduct research, read a technical paper, or am investigating a more formal document or topic.
Minimalism requires choosing and prioritizing, but it also requires getting every last drop of living out of life, at the least cost to the world around us. I will relinquish my deeply-rooted preference for the tactile experience of reading, only when that experience already is soured by routine and mechanical written materials that offer none of the release of fiction or exploration of the unknown. After all, my minimalist diet allows for the occasional indulgences!

The Minimalist's Diet

Minimalism has elements in common with dieting, such as the giving up of something that may seem important to you, in order to gain something else. However, it is radically different from dieting, in that, if properly structured, it is something that you do not consider to be a loss or forfeiture in the long term. It is harder to return to materialism than it is to remain in minimalist mode, unlike dieting which requires constant vigilance to “keep the weight off.”
It is also substantially different from dieting, in that it can be done in degrees. Try dieting by first reducing calorie intake by 1,000 calories per day, when you are overeating by 2,000 calories per day. The weight will still pile on. “Going minimal” allows you to reduce some of your excess, and still be on track to becoming more economical. This advantage gives you the psychological impetus to continue on your path to reduction, while eating 1,000 excess calories each day still is the wrong direction towards weight loss!
Because of the flexibility in approach to the new program, it is easier for a new convert to “test the waters,” and, at the same time, indoctrinate family, friends and associates into your new view of the world.
Unless the decision is made through necessity, it is unwise to become totally minimalist. For most of us, intrinsic feelings of value and self-significance often are measured by the degree of comfort that we have acquired. To deny ourselves of every physical pleasure creates an emotional void. At its worst, it can be unhealthy. For example, to deny oneself the enjoyment of a comfortable bed means that we also deny ourselves the value of a good night’s sleep. To insist on eating only the minimum of quality food, or to substitute nutritious food for poor quality food will impact severely on our health. We should not aspire to be material anorexics.
On the other hand, overindulgence brings equally undesirable results. An excess of food leads to unhealthy bodies, while an excess of material goods leads to a narcissistic view of life and our role in it.
Whether you opt for either an extreme approach, or a more reasonable, middle-of-the-road tact, it is the rejection of acquisition and consumption of goods that is at the heart of minimalism. Minimalism should never be used as the rationale or excuse for becoming slothful, and aiming low in the input that you provide to the world around you. I know of several people who have chosen to work minimally, and contribute to the world around them in the least possible way, and use their “goal” of being less focused on materialism as an excuse for their indolence.
Minimalism should focus on using your gifts and abilities for the greatest benefit, while seeking ways to be less of a draw on the resources around us. Even that definition, though, fails to recognize that, as you do so, you will gain immensely from the enjoyment of the moment, with a reduced dependence on material goods to generate that enjoyment.
Planning for the conversion to minimalism will be of benefit if you look not only at what you want to eliminate from your life, but what you want to gain. What are your goals and objectives? Do you plan on using the “free money” to retire on a tropical island? Do you want to devote more effort to community service? Is it your plan to spend your free money and time on inventing the next greatest invention? Is minimalism a route to something else, such as saving for that ultimate purchase of a yacht in order to sail around the world? Are you hoping to be able to secrete a nest-egg to leave for your children and grandchildren when you die? Having a focus, as to what you want to do or acquire, as well as what you want to give up provides a more solid base on which to build your efforts at changing your way of living.
Few people diet with the sole purpose of losing weight. They lose weight to feel more energetic, or to improve their health, or to become more attractive. They have a focus, a goal. Similarly, approach minimalism with the same focus, and your journey will become that much easier.

Would You Like Apple Sauce or Pork N Beans?

Minimalism is not about doing without. It is not about continual sacrifice. It is about doing more (or, at minimum, the same amount) with less. That may sound a little like one of the three Rs of environmentalism – Reduce. But minimalism is about making choices that make sense, not necessarily making choices to leave less of a footprint. The end result may be the same, but the motivations may differ.
Let us consider the choice of apple sauce or pork and beans. In the grocery store, a can (14 oz or 400 ml) of beans may cost you ninety cents or so, but no more than $1.20. A jar of apple sauce, on the other hand, may cost upwards of $3.00 for 900 ml (32 oz). Yet, both are relatively inexpensive. Both can be grown and produced by you.
If both can be produced by you, then, should not a true minimalist make his/her own beans or apple sauce? Not necessarily.
This fall, we made our own apple sauce, from a basket of tart apples picked from our own tree. To make six quarts took us four hours. That’s hardly a productive use of our time, since we were working for less than $5 per hour! Yet, our only inputs (the tree was in the yard before we were) were a little cinnamon, the jars (which we already had) and the heat to do the canning. We canned on a cool day, so the heat generated would have been generated anyway, to heat our home. That meant our only true cost was less than fifteen cents worth of cinnamon.
On the other hand, we also grew a variety of beans. Those beans could have been made into canned beans with pork. Instead, we chose to pickle them and freeze some. Less energy input was required on the hot summer days when they were ripe for the picking. Our net cost to pickle and freeze? About six cents per pound. To can them into brown beans with pork would have required sugar, cooking heat, spices, and tomato or molasses. And the time to prepare them for canning would have exceeded four hours for twenty pounds. At a retail price of $1.00 per pound, we would have saved $20 over store-bought beans, minus the input costs of forty cents per pound, and worked for $3.00 per hour. That is considerably less than what we earned on the apple sauce.
There are three additional major differences, though. The homemade apple sauce is pure, with no artificial preservatives added, and no sugars. And we used recycled jars, rather than aluminum cans. For the beans, we had an easier option: freezing. For virtually no cost, and little labour, we preserved the same quantity of beans as we would have canned in the pork ‘n beans scenario.
Sometimes, it is an act of minimalism to buy, rather than produce an item yourself. But where your inputs will exceed what is consumed by commercial production, where quality of doing it yourself far outweighs commercial product quality, or where commercial products generates excess waste, “doing it yourself” is the minimalist’s best option.
Minimalism, it seems then, is not as simple as “doing with less” or “doing it yourself.” It is also about “doing it smart.”

One Knife: A Minimalist’s Take on Extreme Consumerism

From 2002 to 2004, I owned one knife – no more than that.
This one knife was a fish filleting knife. It saw duty as a paring knife, as a fish skinning knife, as a wire stripper, as a butter knife, as a dinner knife, and even as a poor flat screwdriver blade.
I had not intended, in 2002, to be a minimalist. I had no concept of what being a minimalist entailed. I simply had no need of any other knife.
When I remarried in 2005, I inherited more than 60 knives. There were dinner knives, steak knives, bread knives, electric knives, meat carving knives, paring knives, pocket knives, multi-tool knives, cheese knives, cleaving knives, and other knives whose purpose I could not guess. Of course, there were also duplicates of those knives.
The knives, to me, represented the difference between consumerism and minimalism. Each type of knife simplified a given chore, or made use of a knife a little easier for that specific task. But each knife also required specific care: cleaning, sharpening, storing and handling varied for each knife. While each chore was made easier with the correct knife, keeping track of that knife became more complex than caring for one knife.
A multitude of knives meant, too, that many people could do many tasks concurrently with each other (not that it happened frequently). But an assortment of people handling a range of knives complicates the task of tracking & caring for the items.
With my one knife, I never felt the need for more. But now that I possess dozens, I see better quality, more attractive, more durable knives that I want. Ornate handles, eversharp blades, and superior, indestructible quality make each new offering a “must-have” product.
There are risks, as well, with owning a plethora of culinary scalpels. Cuts are more frequent, breakage more common, cleanliness more essential. I can no longer just wipe the filleting knife on my trousers. Each knife need be sterilized. Each knife requires storage, and specialized storage, at that.
And I needed to learn etiquette as it pertains to the proper use of knives.
I am baffled at how I was able to survive for three years with only one knife. I marvel at the rugged pioneer independence of those that have fewer knives than I now possess, and wonder how they manage to tolerate such primitive living.
In 2002, I had no need of two knives. Now, I cannot fathom being without at least 60. It is my minimum.

Gift Giving for Minimalists

Relationship issues naturally seem to follow a decision to make a major change in one’s life.
When a career change hits, it impacts on more than the person whose work path is redirected. It impacts on a spouse, on family members, and on one’s social life. Similarly, a change of residence means school & friendship reorientation for the children, a probable job change for a spouse, and a shuffling of extended family interactions due to distance. Obviously, a change of religion brings unique relationship realignments.
My decision to live a minimalist lifestyle occurred well before my remarriage. My spouse has done an amazing job of adjusting, accommodating and even aligning her value systems to meet my preferences. As I indicated, though, in one of my earlier blogs, I felt compelled to live as a “closet minimalist,” in order to maintain my image as a successful business consultant. That changed when I retired.
The most difficult relationship adjustment has come, not from those immediate family members such as my own children and my spouse, but from “extended family” and friends. Even my “new” children (a friend calls them “bonus children.” I love that expression!), after a couple of years, learned to accept that my value system was not something they should try to leverage or modify, in the same manner that I respected their way of looking at life. We share ideas, but do not strongarm our ideas on each other.
My new in-laws love to give gifts; for Christmas, at Easter, at every birthday and anniversaries. Regardless of how I protest, they simply laugh it off. Regardless of how I try to encourage them to, at least, spend less (they are in their late 70s), they ignore the requests. So how do I get them to understand that I do not want these excesses, without being exceptionally blunt and perhaps offend them?
Long-time friends of my spouse, and friends of mine who love to socialize with us insist on bringing dinner gifts for every occasion. They remember special occasions, and provide gifts. They look at our dearth of furnishings, and bring knickknacks and superfluous decorations. Yet, they all know my preferences. So, how do I deal with them?
A simple solution: let everyone know you appreciate their thoughts and generosity, and let them know. Each time they bring a gift, who or what charity you have donated their gift to. Let them know how valued those donations are by the recipients. Let them know that, regardless of their attempt to “fatten me up” while I am on my minimalism diet, I will continue to appreciate their generosity, and thank them for their charitable nature by giving gifts that they know I will prudently donate to the appropriate charities.