The Joy of Less Read online

  ~Frederick Koenig

  I was surrounded by piles and piles of clothes. Some showed signs of wear, others had been worn only once or twice, and a few still had tags. They held no appeal for me. Old or new, they had lost their luster and since there was no space left in the closet, they had to go. Spending hours sorting through the clothes and placing them in trash bags, I patted myself on the back for my efforts. In addition to de-cluttering, I was helping people. I shared clothing with friends who were ecstatic to get the text, “I’m cleaning out my closet.” The rest went to charity organizations that would profit mightily from my barely used wardrobe.

  We all cope with stress differently. A treat, a little pick-me-up, something to take the edge off the harshness of life. “You deserve it,” the ads were quick to promote, knowing just the right thing to say. “Yes, I do,” I thought. “It’s been a hard day dealing with squabbling children, endless dishes and being the one to keep it all going.” It was exhausting trying to keep the peace, and while some women might crave chocolate, I craved a place where there was no chaos and no one would expect anything of me.

  A little trip to my favorite store usually did the trick. As I opened the door, scented candles ushered me in. Taking a deep breath, I could feel the stress fading away. No one here pulled on my arms or climbed on me like I was a jungle gym. In fact, they asked if they could help me. Here, I relaxed more deeply than any yoga meditation. As my shoes echoed on the wood floor, I could hear myself think in this beautiful place. I wandered around the store touching soft fabric between my fingers.

  When I added up the amount of time spent purging the stuff, not to mention the buying, I realized I had been wasting the most precious gift I had been given… my life.

  This store represented everything I wished I could be. Neatly lined racks, evenly spaced hangers, and I wasn’t the one who would do the cleaning. Store employees knew me by name, and I left with a shirt or a dress in a pretty shopping bag. Who am I kidding? There was never just one. The shopping bags burst with my finds. I left on a high, feeling as if I had done something truly meaningful. My world was not so bleak as I pulled into my driveway.

  The problem was, it never lasted. Endless shopping trips later, I had a house full of stuff, most of which I neither used nor cared about. As I pulled the tie on the last bag of giveaway clothes, I glanced at the clock. I was shocked at how many hours had passed. When I added up the amount of time spent purging the stuff, not to mention the buying, I realized I had been wasting the most precious gift I had been given… my life.

  A few days after my closet purge, a dear friend and I were having lunch. I learned she had been taking classes toward a master’s degree. I walked away proud of what she had accomplished, yet wondering how she found the time to make this happen. Due to the amount of stuff in my house, sorting and picking up dominated my day. It dawned on me, if I had fewer things my whole life would be less cluttered. I could take the time I spent shopping and picking up to do something worthwhile.

  Feeling inspired, I started that day. It took nearly a year to go beyond my own closet and go through everything in my house. I squeezed in a little time every day between carpool drop-offs and soccer practices. I went through every nook and cranny. I put to use my marketing degree and opened an online store, selling what I could and donating the rest. Things began leaving my house every day. Peeling away at the layers of stuff sitting around, with each decision to let go I felt only one thing… relief.

  Wedding gifts that had not been used in a decade and a half were the first to see the door. Bulk items kept on hand “just in case” were the next to go. No toy was safe. I encouraged my kids to sell anything they no longer used, and I let them keep the cash. They learned a lot from the experience. Most of all they learned they had a lot of things they didn’t care about. We cleared out an entire room of toys, consolidating them to a game room upstairs.

  With that empty space I created a peaceful room where I could read and write. I no longer needed a store to calm my spirit. I often find my daughter curled up on the couch reading, a quiet place away from her rambunctious brothers. It was in this space I started to dream again. Not about what I could buy, but what I could do to make a difference.

  Understanding I am better off without the clutter has led to a whole new way of living. I have more time to spend on the things that matter — lunch with my husband, playing with my children, a handwritten note to a friend, a volunteer opportunity. When the familiar need for a pick-me-up does creep in, I’ve discovered I can hit the gym or take a walk in the fresh air. Being physically active does far more to lift my spirits than any shopping splurge ever did.

  This year for my birthday I received several gift cards. My family knows me well, so it didn’t come as a huge surprise when they were for my favorite store. I have to admit, I was giddy at the prospect of a shopping trip. Some habits are hard to break. I determined though, before I set foot in the store, I would only use the value of my gift cards.

  The store clerk greeted me by name. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen you!” she said, nearly pulling me into a hug. For reasons entirely different than her intention, she could not have paid me a nicer compliment.

  Checking out with my single item, she detailed the new fall collection arriving the following week. I mentally checked my calendar, debating which day I could swing by the store, and then I stopped. My face broke into a wide smile as she handed me the small bag. “Take care,” I said simply, walking away knowing I would not be back no matter how gorgeous the colors were. There will always be more. Another collection to see. The latest, the greatest, better than the last… and I am better off without them.

  ~Katie Bangert

  Going Places with Less

  Don’t settle down and sit in one place. Move around, be nomadic, make each day a new horizon.

  ~Jon Krakauer

  Walking along the trail with my husband, I took a deep breath and admired the view. Snowcapped mountains. Wildflowers blooming yellow, blue and red throughout the hillside meadows, their sweet scent carried in the breeze. A glimpse of a sapphire blue lake sparkling in the distance. We were in Glacier National Park, Montana.

  One of the best, albeit scariest, decisions we made regarding our retirement was to sell our home of thirty years and travel across the country in an RV. Sounds great at first blush, but the reality of living in 350 square feet meant a drastic downsize. It would be quite a change for us. Oh, but our new back yard! We were downsizing with a purpose and we were excited to begin a new life chapter.

  More than a year before our target departure date, we stopped buying anything except food. No more clothes. No more shoes. No more gadgets for the kitchen. It was actually quite freeing and easy to do.

  As sad and difficult as it was, cleaning out my mother-in-law’s home after her passing helped me. She was a borderline hoarder, purely as a result of her experience in East Germany during World War II, when she wasn’t able to get simple things like sugar or coffee. While cleaning out her worldly possessions, I learned a very big lesson. Use it or give it to someone who can. All the excess things she had stored away — clothes, food, nylons, toys — were molded or moth-eaten and couldn’t be used by anyone. It was so sad to realize the amount of her time, money and space that were wasted. She would have been sick had she known that everything would end up being thrown away. With that experience fresh in my mind, it was so much easier to make my own decisions on what to keep, give away or trash.

  Slowly, we began downsizing. My husband and I each were responsible for our own “stuff,” as were our grown kids. The downsizing was quite a challenge at first. It was easy to get rid of old Halloween decorations and the dated Christmas ornaments I had kept just in case we ever needed more for the Christmas tree. It got a bit harder when I was going through the boxes in the basement labeled “memories.” There were my high school and college yearbooks, ribbons and a few trophies I had won as a child while on the town’s swim team.
When was the last time I even looked at those ribbons? And then there were the items I’d saved from our kids. The task at hand was to decide what to keep (in a storage unit), what to bring, what to give away, and what to trash.

  Furniture was another story. We decided to just give it away. After family and friends took what they could use, we gave the rest to the young couple that bought our house. They were thrilled and we were happy to help this young family starting out.

  As the downsizing momentum built, I tackled my photo collection — twenty-three shoeboxes to be exact. I could not bear to part with them so I scanned the photos into my computer and discarded the hard copies. What a feeling when that task was completed!

  An avid and passionate knitter, I had accumulated lots of beautiful fiber for my creative pleasure. No. I could not give up even one skein. Or could I? This was one of the most difficult downsizing chores for me, and though I did well donating to various groups and fiber friends, I have a sizable stash to this day.

  Fast forward to our current living conditions. We’ve been living in the RV for a year and a half and we want for nothing. We did a great job deciding what was necessary for our life on the road. There is not one item in our small kitchen that is not used. We have just enough clothes. Both of us have brought along our hobby supplies — yarn, computers and electronics paraphernalia. A few special pictures on the wall and a few select decorations make the motorhome into our “home sweet home.” We even have a “garden” — several small pots of herbs we keep in our front window.

  Because we are living so simply, there is much less to clean and no reason to shop. If it doesn’t have a purpose or enjoyment factor, it doesn’t come in the RV. It really is that simple. Instead of collecting things, we are collecting such unbelievable experiences. It’s a magical life we are living right now. Granted, much has to do with being retired, but I strongly believe that some of the freedom we feel is a result of downsizing.

  My husband and I enjoy nature and being outdoors. We have the opportunity to explore national parks, hiking and marveling at the world around us. Early in our journey, we had very poor TV reception, so we rarely watched TV. Now, even when we do have access, it is more of a decision to watch… not just a habit. When we do watch TV or a movie, we really enjoy it. Not being tied to the TV habit, we spend more time on our hobbies. My husband has even branched out into quadcopters and other radio controlled vehicles. His eight-inch telescope came along with us for those fabulous night skies. My yarn collection is diminishing.

  We have a very rich and fulfilling life, just with less stuff.

  This journey of ours does not mean Nirvana. We did not win the lottery. We are living on a budget. We have endured illness (including cancer) and accidents (requiring stitches) while on the road thousands of miles away from family and friends. Things have broken down. The windshields have cracked on the car and the RV. We’ve had a few disagreements on the road.

  Though it wasn’t easy to downsize, the result has been such a feeling of freedom — not being tied down by material things allowed us to experience life differently. It is nice to know we can winter in the Arizona desert and not have to worry about a big snowstorm in New Jersey and our home there. Can you hear the sigh of relief? That is what simplifying and downsizing feels like to us. Living uncluttered and unencumbered by material things. A nice feeling. We have a very rich and fulfilling life, just with less stuff. Simple as that.

  ~Susan Leitzsch

  The Liberation of Liquidation

  Reduce the complexity of life by eliminating the needless wants of life, and the labors of life reduce themselves.

  ~Edwin Way Teale

  Annie and I had been living in a sprawling, three-bedroom, two living area house for over ten years. The house was a rental, but we had been in the place so long it felt like home. We’d originally intended to buy the place from the owner, who had passed away from old age. Now her relatives were ready to sell but we weren’t ready to buy. It was time to move.

  “You know,” my sweet wife told me one morning after we’d gotten the news that it was time to move on. “We’ve spent over a decade mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges, pruning the trees, and all the other yard work that comes with living in a house. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

  I nodded, standing next to her and pondering about paying rent on yet another house. All our children had grown up and gotten married, and my mom, who had come to live with us, had passed on two years before. I supposed we could rent a smaller house, but they seemed a bit hard to come by, and we weren’t yet ready to buy our own house.

  “Why don’t we rent an apartment?” my wife said softly at my shoulder. “There would be no mowing, no trimming, and no pruning to do.”

  I don’t know,” I argued, immediately thinking of living next to people who would be to the left of us, to the right, down below, and up above. “An apartment is not a house.”

  “A cozy, little apartment,” my wife continued, “for just the two of us, a sweet little nest where we could be together.”

  Everything we had slated to go into storage would be sold or given away instead.

  “A small apartment would mean less cost,” I conceded. Then I did a reality check and looked around. “But what would we do with all our stuff?”

  And did we have a lot of stuff! We had rooms stuffed with stuff. The garage was stacked with boxes. There was so much stuff we didn’t even know what we had.

  “What are we going to do with all of our things if we move into a little apartment?” Annie asked. Then her eyes brightened. “Why don’t we put what we don’t need in storage and save it for when we buy our own house?”

  So that was the plan. We found a wonderful apartment that was exactly the cozy, beautiful little nest my wife and I were looking for. It was only one bedroom, and so most of our things would have to be packed up and put into storage. That’s when I got the bright idea to just let everything extra go. Everything we had slated to go into storage would be sold or given away instead.

  “So you’re serious,” Annie said after I told her my idea. “You want to get rid of everything we can’t take with us?”

  “Why not?” I replied. I looked at all the furniture and boxes that wouldn’t see the light of day for a few years. “What happens if we get to like apartment life, or it takes somewhat longer before we can afford to buy a house? Or what if we decide to wait until I retire? That stuff might be in storage forever.”

  “True,” Annie replied. “We might not get around to it for a long time.”

  “Then again,” I pointed out, “Let’s say we stay in the apartment. We’ll get used to having less very quickly, and all that extra stuff will just be like an anchor around our necks. Why not keep the most important things, things that we treasure, and let someone else have the rest?”

  Annie smiled at me. “I think I know who might be able to help.”

  So we hired a person who liquidated estates, let her take care of selling or donating three-fourths of everything we’d once thought we couldn’t live without, and moved forward. Walking away from all the stuff we had acquired during our life together was hard, but it was also liberating.

  Now, here in our tiny little nest, where it’s just the two of us and those things that are dearest to our hearts, life is a different kind of adventure. In finally getting down to the basics, letting go of the need to have “stuff,” Annie and I are better able to concentrate on our family and each other, and on living a life where what we have isn’t as important to us as who we have in our lives.

  ~John P. Buentello

  You Must Be Mistaken

  The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.

  ~Socrates

  I was on the third telephone call that morning that required me to give someone descriptive information about the home we had just purchased. This conversation went pretty much the same as the two previous calls when we got to one part
icular question: “What is the square footage of your home?”

  “485 square feet,” I replied.

  The person responded with, “Ma’am, I’m sure you’re mistaken. You’ll have to check your information again and give me the correct number before I can assist you.”

  “You must be mistaken” seemed to be the catch phrase of the day for me. I was hoping this wasn’t a warning sign that we had made a mistake by purchasing what we thought was the perfect home for us.

  Those phone calls made me realize we had done something out of the ordinary, or at least unique for our area, by purchasing a house of this size. Although not exactly prepared for what living in such a small house would be like, we were eager, ready and willing to accept the challenge. It was a new beginning for us. We were moving into this home with a sense of exhilaration that came from parting with the material things that were not necessary to our happiness. I was excited about having to expand my creativity to transform this small house into a comfortable, cozy, happy home.

  Choosing to downsize is like all the other big decisions that we make throughout life. It has its advantages and its challenges. If I find myself getting a little frustrated with the limited space we have, I simply pause a moment and go through my mental list of the advantages that come with a small home. I don’t have to go very far down the list before I realize that the advantages far outweigh the disadvantages. If you’ve been procrastinating about downsizing from your current home or are pondering the idea of giving small home living a try, assessing the advantages could be the encouragement you need to set the wheels in motion for a new and exciting experience.

  I have a “less and more system” for assessing the benefits of living in a small house. The “less list” includes benefits such as less maintenance, less housecleaning, less money spent on insurance premiums, lower tax bills, lower utility bills, less clutter and less furniture and decorative accessories to buy. On the “more list” I include things such as more money, more time to engage in hobbies, and more opportunities to challenge my problem solving and creative home decorating skills.