They Left Us Everything - A mini review

I recently finished a book called The Left Us Everything, by Plum Johnson. The book's writing was well done and intrigued me the moment I started it, which is always a great sign. I plowed through the 400-page book, riveted by every chapter, and it didn't disappoint.

It's essentially about a woman (and her siblings) who have to go through their late parents' home -- one that was stuffed to the gills. For most people with aging parents, this book is relatable. 

But as a minimalist, I figured this book would be about wishing that their mom and dad had downsized before death, since it caused a lot of grief to not only go through the things, but also balance their grief alongside everything they touched. It was hard enough to deal with their loss, but having to go through endless paperwork, every closet, and the attic and basement space was an added burden.

Somewhere I read that this was a good book about "a family going through a house," and I thought it would be a great read, particularly as a minimalist and as one who loves a good estate sale. My kind of book!

Ultimately, the book was different than what I expected. It was good (get it here), and it's a reminder that we will all go through grief with our parents at some point, and many of us will have to deal with a house to go through as well. But the biggest thing I wasn't expecting the author to say, amidst a 4000-square-foot house stuffed with things to go through, is that she "thinks everyone should not have their parents downsize, but instead, as their child, go through the pain of getting rid of a house full of things."

I was flabbergasted, and just a bit confused. Didn't she dread going through the house? She told us this constantly. Hadn't she said she wished her parents had gone through the piles of paperwork? It took her something like over a year to go through the whole home. She, in fact, moved in to work on it; it was so overwhelming.

Here's what I think she was getting at: She got to relive her life, her memories, find new things about her parents, secrets and unknowns, and was glad for this. When you grieve the loss of someone, any new thing that surrounded them tells a story; it helps to form a more perfect story of who they really were. Whether it was the perfume mom wore daily, or the closet of clothes dad loved, or the piles of recipes she kept. I understand this because when someone leaves us, all we have are memories. And to tangibly hold something that meant something to them, it connects us ... we feel that they're still with us.

But, I don't think it's wise to keep a stuffed home for your kids. Most of it will be tossed, and that's what this lady ended up doing: throwing away and donating most of it. Sure, larger items, like furniture, went to siblings and grandkids, and that's wonderful. But wouldn't it have been even better if the parents had been able to give those things away with a story to the family while everyone was still alive? There's value in that; there is love in giving items away with your blessing.

Grief is hard. But going through a house of stuff is harder. If it had been up to me, I would've told my parents to take a good look at Swedish Death Cleaning and then help them do it!

It's difficult to give up a family home; to let go of every memory that every corner of the home holds. I get it. I did this with my parents a few years ago, one they lived in for 40 years, and I still think about that home. Constantly. But nostalgia keeps us from looking at the truth of a matter. Wanting to leave and needing to leave are two different things. Sometimes, being practical and realistic has to overcome memories and nostalgia. Loving your parents also looks like helping them live a less complicated life the older they get.

So, while I was in disagreement with her theory that it was good to have a houseful of stuff to go through (that weighed heavily on her and her siblings throughout the entire, dragged-out process of getting rid of a lifetime of things in the home), I do sympathize with her predicament. I would also recommend reading the book. It was eye-opening and a wonderful memoir, and clearly, she loved her parents.  

In the end, that - not the stuff - is what matters anyway.

Minimalism Comes in All Sizes

Sometimes I feel like a true minimalist; other times, I feel like a minimalist with a problem in a few areas. But what really makes a minimalist, anyway?

A minimalist lives to the utmost with less. That's it.

If I'm being honest, even as a minimalist, sometimes there are things I want, things that I have an eye on acquiring, because I do need them. And sometimes, I don't even need it and still want it. And I still acquire it.

And guess what? It's okay to do that. 

Just because you've decided to become more of a minimalist doesn't mean the "desire to acquire" will leave. Sometimes this desire takes time to fade away, and other times, it doesn't. 

Or maybe it does fade for some things, like when you realize a Beanie Baby collection is probably not the best thing to keep, but still loving your shoe collection is. I mean, at least one of those collections gets used, right?

It's okay if your shoe collection doesn't become as minimal as you want it to be, or as someone else wants it to be. It's easy to assume that once you go minimalist, you'll just give up your desire for everything and become the minimalist of someone akin to a backpacker in Europe!

But that isn't the goal. The one who has the least isn't always the winner.

We're not all the same. We shouldn't all be the same. For some, a capsule wardrobe is their thing. For me, as a minimalist, I can't do it that way. I can't have that little to work with. And it's probably because I am fully immersed in a vintage clothing world (that I buy and sell and wear from). I have a small wardrobe, to be sure. It's smaller than my husband's! But it's by no means a capsule wardrobe. And that's okay.

All these ways are okay. 

I've made my closet as minimal as possible, but I will always make room for a quality vintage wool winter sweater, or a perfect pair of worn-in vintage 501s, and shoes. Don't get me started on the shoes. I will always own more shoes than I can wear (but I do rotate through every pair throughout the year. There's just more than, say, the capsule wardrobe wearer would have... by like 30 pairs.)

But the caveat is knowing when to say no. While I will make room for a beautiful vintage '40s dress in my closet, I don't need 50 of them. I keep my items minimal, but have variation, and don't keep what I don't wear. It's as simple as that. And that's where the extra funds come in now for me.

The older I get, the more I yearn for less. And here's why:

Vacations: I realize that the things I buy can instead be directed toward places to go. I want experiences now! I want to travel, see things, meet more people, and immerse myself in cultures I know nothing about.

Family: Now that my two sons are married, eventually the grandkids will come. Maybe not now, but soon. I'd rather have funds to spend on them than myself. I'll be lucky to live another thirty years in this world. My kids have more than double that. I'd rather spend it on my kids, my parents, my siblings, family, and my future grandchildren. 

Food: I went to brunch at a restaurant this last Sunday. We don't eat out a ton; we love to cook and stay home and make meals, but we probably eat out once a week. And this last week, it was brunch on a patio, with the perfect temperature and an adorable doodle dog staring at us a table away. It was perfect. And I want more of that.

The more I can spend on experiences, vacations, going to brunch on Sunday, the more alive I feel. Of course, buying a new pair of shoes can also make me feel alive, but what's the return on that investment? If it's a pair I'll wear over and over, and it's a quality pair of shoes I need, great. That'll work!

But if it's just to buy for the sake of buying, that is a royal waste of time and a poor use of my finances. Investing in a vacation with my husband or kids, or eating out with family, that's even better.

Minimalism comes in all shapes and sizes. Find what works best for you. Make it accustomed to your needs and desire for simplicity. Then figure out where you really want your money to go.

You may question that pair of shoes you impulsively bought, but you definitely won't regret dinner with your family at that perfect vacation spot. The goal of minimalism is freedom. So how much (or little) of it do you need to feel free?

Get What You Want by Saying No

I just got back from a cruise to Alaska with my husband a few weeks ago. The weather was wonderful, we ate amazing food, and saw pristine, untouched land that looked like nowhere else. We saw wildlife and passed by walls of green forests with waters tainted by a three-thousand-year-old glacier. We smelled the freshest spruce air and experienced it all on and off a boat. It was unspeakably beautiful. 

Cruising is a great way to see what you want to see, and a lot of it. It also means I know where I can get food at any time, and I know where I’ll lay my head at the end of every day. These are two constants that stay with me as I navigate and explore each port stop.

The not-so-great thing about a cruise is the quantity of food and drink. I know; it sounds like I’m contradicting myself. But it's not the availability that flummoxes me; it’s how much is available, as in, overdoing a good thing. I knew it would be trouble for me. I live a rather regimented lifestyle with my diet, yet I also knew it would be a nice change and a chance to enjoy foods I don’t normally eat.

But, as the week progressed, the amount of food I ate staggered me. I normally don’t eat much breakfast, but here I was sitting down to a fine dining breakfast because I could. I had extra drinks, extra rolls with each meal (when I normally don’t eat bread!), dessert with every dinner and sometimes every lunch. It was fun. Vacation is a time for going off the diet! But, it’s also an outrageous way to live. 

By the end of the week, I remember sitting down in pain, watching people walk by as we headed back to our starting port of Seattle. I was so full! And I realized that I would have to go back to my old diet not only because I needed to, but also for my health and to feel better. Being too full all the time was physically hurting me. 

I’m sure everyone who passed me was full, just like me, because we wanted to get our money’s worth. But was it worth it? I knew that to get back to feeling normal again, I was going to have to say no. Say no to foods that don’t work with my autoimmune disease, say no to foods to get back to my normal weight, and say no to sweets that I had so religiously avoided for years. 

I thought about that and realized it was the answer to getting everything I wanted. Say no. If I wanted to write that book, I would have to carve out time every day and say no to other things during that time. If I wanted to be in shape, I would have to say no to sitting and instead move. If I wanted to be a minimalist, I would have to say no to bringing excess into my home.

This mindset goes against a book I read about saying yes to everything. An introvert started saying yes to everything (mostly social things), for a year, and doors opened for her. And that’s great! Especially when you’re used to saying no. 

I can appreciate the concept, but in the end, saying yes to everything doesn’t work for me; it doesn’t make me feel whole or healthy. I say yes to what works in my life, but I can’t say yes to every commitment, or I will burn out. 

Saying no is in the best interest of my health and well-being, especially as a minimalist. We can’t do it all without suffering the consequences. If I say yes to every social commitment, it means I’m saying no to something else. Period. There’s no way around that. Same with bad versus good food, or buying versus not buying.

So, why say no? Here are a few reasons why I have to say no to most things in my life to get a few good yesses.

I’m saying no to excess: Imagine if I said yes to everything I wanted. Every piece of clothing, every fun pair of shoes, every book, every new piece of house decor. My home would be overflowing. As it is, it’s still overflowing, and I practice minimalism. There comes a point when I have to say no, not only because I don’t need it, but to say no to the desire to consume. We’re used to this: the desire to purchase for the sake of purchasing. We can live with less. We need less than we think we need, and it starts by walking out of the store with nothing extra, closing the app, and, perhaps, not shopping online at all.

I’m saying no to bad health: Saying no to dessert, saying no to second helpings, saying no to a breakfast I don’t normally eat, these are all the things I need to do to keep myself in my best health. Nothing wrong with having a treat, but if I want to remain healthy as I age, there is no way that’s attainable by eating whatever I want, whenever I want. I will have to say no and say no a lot to foods that won’t help with this. It’s not fun to think about, but it’s the only way to good health.

I’m saying no to laziness: No one wants to be reminded that we fight against laziness, but it’s in our construct to want to do the easy thing, to take the wide gate, to go down hills, not trudge up them. I took up running again, after a few years off, and wow does it show! I’m slow, it hurts, and I have no idea if I’ll ever be as fast as I was before. So, what’s kicking me out of bed twice a week to do it? The only thing is me knowing that I have to fight against aging to stay healthy. No one else will do it for me. We atrophy what we don’t use. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, it’s up to me to keep those muscles strong.

Saying no is not fun, it’s not easy, and usually, there is little to show for all the effort… until later. But, little by little is where it’s at. It’s the slow accrual, like interest, that seems inconsequential at the time, that becomes a huge investment reaping dividends. For me? Those rewards are good health, the minimalistic lifestyle I long for, and a disciplined life.

While this cruise was spectacular, and I’m all for going off the normal diet on vacations, there is a reason I say no most of the time: it’s no to excess, it’s no to bad health, and it’s no to laziness. Fighting against my human self is something I have to do daily, and with every small choice I make. And simply by saying no to the donut and yes to the walk, or no to the pair of shoes I don’t need, that’s where I win… one step at a time.

Experiences over Stuff: When My Children Teach Me about Simple Living

Every week, my sweet youngest son calls me. 

He lives on the other side of the country from me with his wife, so as he's driving home from work, he calls me, because I am his mother, and a mom wants to know how their boy is doing. He humors me and calls me because I miss him so much, and I'd like to think he misses me, too.

We talk a lot about his work, what else he's doing, how his wife is, what she's doing, and, most recently, I asked him what his wife wanted for her upcoming birthday. He couldn't think of anything, so I told him that was fine, and I'd ask her instead. Surely, she would give me an idea.

His wife is lovely and perfect for him, and she sweetly told me - in complete and utter honesty - that she has everything she wants and sincerely wants for nothing. She has her husband, is doing what she loves from home, and literally wants nothing.

This astounded me. Not because I was hard pressed to give her something (I was), but because how had a soon-to-be 21-year-old become so content and wise?

Apparently, they have figured out the "owning less and living more" thing early on. And in a way, she's teaching me how to live. So, while I don't have to tell her and my son to accumulate less and instead acquire experiences - because that is indeed what they're already doing - it reminded me that not all young people are consumers.

It was refreshing and beautiful. And in simple terms, this is how they're doing it:

They live for each other - My son goes to work, leaving home, and she goes to work from home. She is also so happy to make meals, clean the home, and do the laundry - as well as work - for him as equally as he is happy to work for her. It's this symbiotic beauty where their lives are devoted to each other, and that's the core of their happiness: to serve each other. There's a lot of fulfillment happening there.

Experiencing life, not stuff, for happiness - Their happiness is not derived from things. She'll cook a meal, or they'll occasionally go out for a meal, or spend time talking together, going for walks, playing games, or going to the gym together. The highlight of their day isn't shopping on Amazon or at an outdoor mall. Of course, they buy a few fun things. But, it's on the side of rare when it does happen. Instead, their day's highlight is being together, doing slow-living things like cooking, creating, and laughing. 

Wanting less creates a contentment loop - Starting their marriage appreciating what they already have, and not wanting for excess (they, of course, will want and need some things, like saving up for a new car for her, a house, etc.) has already taught them how to live for the important things in life: family, friends, and simple living. They're not even interested in who the Joneses are, or what they're doing. They're busy being connected and content with each other and living with little, using what God gave them. God can't help but bless that.

My daughter-in-law did tell me, since she loves to bake and cook, that a few small kitchen items would come in handy. So, gratefully, I can get her something she can use (that doesn't inundate their home). But just getting her to tell me what she wanted felt like I was asking for a list of bad habits! They're content with what they have. Right now. As young twenty-somethings.

Isn't that the most amazing place to be? 

After hearing all of this and seeing their lack of desire for "stuff," it only reinforces my minimalist lifestyle. Because I want to be there, too. Their joy is making the simple things of life extraordinarily beautiful and fun. They romanticize the everyday things: that cup of coffee, reading a chapter out of a favorite book, snuggling on the sofa. They've figured life out by focusing on the things that really matter.

They're making magic out of less, and creating a world of happiness that no one - or no thing- can take credit for but themselves. 

Live Simply

May: This is the time of year when a million things happen, whether you like it or not.

My kids are grown and have left the nest, but that doesn't matter. I thought I'd have fewer activities to do, and yet, I'm still busy. I have family and friends' graduations, there are baby showers and weddings to attend, and there are birthday parties and dinner parties to go to.

Even if they're your own party.

I turn fifty this year, and while it's not that big of a deal, what is a big deal is the way I've changed what I want to do. The things of yesterday (like the last decade) don't seem that important. I still love writing, reading, and being involved in the vintage clothing industry, but maybe there are other things I should be doing.

Every day is a gift, and I was soberly reminded of that just a few weeks ago when a good friend of mine's husband passed away in his sleep. He was young and had years more to live. But we don't get a memo to tell us when that day arrives. God simply tells us our time is up and takes the breath from our lungs. That's it. 

We just have to be ready. 

And that's where I want to be from now on. Ready. Am I doing the things that bring value? Am I wasting my time? Do people matter more than things?

I wrote a little more in-depth about this subject as a guest writer on the No Sidebar website, which is a community of minimal-living writers and readers. But I wrote it before my friend's husband passed away, and it truly made me take what I said to heart. With his death and my impending milestone birthday, I'm rethinking what matters.

My wonderful friend just gave me this beautiful mug for my birthday. And it's a great reminder of what my daily goal is: to live simply. By doing that, I can focus on what matters, care for those who really need it, and stop wasting my time with things that will be useless and pointless when I'm gone. 

Live simply, but live fully, my friends.