Minimalism

The house where we stayed in Kyoto was a small traditional home...one room on the main floor, plus a bathroom, and one room upstairs. The main floor room was the living room, dining room, kitchen, TV room, and office all in one. The floor was covered in tatami mats, with a small table in the middle, just big enough for the four "chairs" (picture the seat and back of a simple wooden chair, but without legs) that slid easily on the mat. The steep, narrow stairs led up to a room with 4 twin mattresses. It took me 5 minutes to straighten up the house.

Our time there reminded me of a Japanese book on minimalism that I read years ago called “Goodbye, Things” by Fumio Sasaki. The author gradually let go of so many of his belongings (including his bed and TV) that he was able to move into a much smaller apartment. It took almost no time at all to clean his home, and he used his newfound free time to pursue his hobbies and spend more time with friends and family. While I have not been able to achieve anywhere close to that level of sparsity at home, I have been able to achieve some level of minimalism during this trip. We each have a carry-on suitcase and a backpack. Buying a new piece of clothing means letting something else go. Purchases require a greater level of contemplation. Consumption of goods has been replaced with a focus on shedding items that are not essential. Every time we fly and our bags are placed on the scale, we are reminded of all the items that are (literally) weighing us down.

The biggest challenge in this minimalism practice is dealing with our different levels of attachment to material items. S was campaigning hard for a larger suitcase from the beginning because her carry-on only held half of what she wanted to bring. Z has decided to try to acquire Pokemon cards in every country we visit. M has a growing magnet collection. Each person’s concept of “enough stuff” is different. Similarly, each person’s concept of “enough travel” is different as well. Some of us would like to return home tomorrow, while others would like to keep traveling for many more months. As Joshua Fields Millburn said on “The Minimalists” podcast, “We think the answer is always more, but each of us at some point has enough. I left the party when I’d had enough. Others left later because they hadn’t had enough. Stop...when you’ve had enough.” Having to repack the suitcases every four to five days is the accountability we all need to keep our consumption in check.

We also appreciated the minimal noise in Japan. People spoke quietly, so restaurants and public spaces were pleasant and conducive to conversation. Drivers did not honk at other drivers, bikes or people. I heard recently that noise pollution and the stress it causes contribute to health problems and reduce a person’s happiness levels, which we experienced first-hand when we traveled from Japan to Vietnam. The nonstop honking of cars and motorcycles was distracting at best and sleep-depriving at worst. By the end of our week in Hanoi, the lack of sleep and constant noise drove me to tears over some insignificant issue.

This journey continues to provide opportunities for us to learn about ourselves. My latest realization is that minimalism is not a goal. I’m not trying to reach it or attain it. It is a practice. A value. I value a minimalist environment because it takes less of my time and energy to maintain it, and it presents fewer distractions from what I do want to achieve. And space to figure out what that might be.