The Joy of Less, a Minimalist Living Guide Read Online Free PDF Page B

pulling will change that. Seal it up in “magic” vacuum bags if you want, but even they have to go somewhere. So if you live in a small apartment, or you don’t have a lot of closets, you can’t bring home a lot of stuff. Period. Otherwise, you’re going to have a problem.
    By the same token, we don’t need to fill all the space we have. Remember, space is of equal value to things (or greater, depending on your perspective). If you live in a four-thousand-square-foot house, you don’t need to acquire four thousand square feet of stuff. If you’re lucky enough to have a walk-in closet, you don’t need to pack every inch of it. Really! In fact, you’ll live and breathe a lot easier if you don’t.
    We talked a little bit about the value of containers in the introduction, and how they hold the greatest potential when they’re empty. When we want to enjoy a pot of tea, we need an empty cup to pour it in. When we want to make a meal, we need an empty pot to cook it in. When we want to do the tango, we need an empty room to dance it in.
    Likewise, our houses are the containers of our domestic lives. When we want to relax, create, and play with our families, we need some empty space in which to do it. Alternatively, we can think of our homes as the stages on which the dramas of our lives play out. For the best performance, we must be able to move about and express ourselves freely; it’s certainly no fun (nor particularly graceful) if we’re tripping over the props.
    We also need space for our ideas and thoughts—a cluttered room usually leads to a cluttered mind. Say you’re sitting on your sofa, maybe reading a book or listening to music, and a truly profound thought captures your imagination: perhaps you’ve had an insight into human nature, or are on the brink of uncovering the meaning of life. You’re deep in thought, solving the mysteries of mankind, when your gaze falls on the stack of magazines on the coffee table, or the broken sewing machine in the corner. “Hmm, I really must attend to that,” you think; “I wonder if there’s time before dinner…” Your mind immediately takes a detour and your train of thought is lost—and with it, your legacy as a great philosopher.
    Of course, you don’t have to be channeling Aristotle to appreciate an uncluttered environment. Even activities of a more mundane variety benefit greatly from space and clarity; for instance, it’s much easier to give your full attention to your partner or toddler when there aren’t a million doodads around to confuse and distract you.
    In fact, that’s the greatest thing about space: it puts the things (and people) that are truly special to us in the spotlight. If you owned a beautiful painting, you wouldn’t crowd it with other décor—you’d hang it on its own, with enough space around it to show it off. If you had an exquisite vase, you wouldn’t bury it in a pile of junk—you’d put it on its own pedestal. We need to treat what’s important to us with similar respect; which, in effect, means removing all the other stuff that’s not so important.
    By creating space in our homes, we put the focus back where it should be: on what we do, rather than what we own. Life is too short to waste fussing over stuff. For when we’re old and gray, we won’t wax poetic on the things we had—but rather on what we did in the spaces between them.

PHILOSOPHY
 

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Enjoy without owning

 
    What if someone offered you the Mona Lisa—with the stipulation that you couldn’t sell it? Sure, you’d have the opportunity to gaze on a breathtaking painting twenty-four hours a day; but suddenly the responsibility of one of humanity’s greatest treasures would rest squarely on your shoulders. It’d be no small task to keep her secure from theft, clean from dust and debris, protected from sunlight, and stored at the optimum temperature and humidity. You’d no doubt also have to deal with a steady stream of art lovers wanting to view her.