Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Living Like a Refugee

Naked we come into this world and naked we leave, but somehow we seem to accumulate ridiculous amounts of stuff in between.  

Periodically, I have to review the reasons and methods behind minimalism.  I am fully convinced that living more simply leads to a more satisfying life, but I often begin reverting back to accumulating without even knowing it.  A few receipts get stashed in my purse, a new outfit enters the closet and no items leave, a book is picked up at a garage sale, and pretty soon I'm feeling like a lousy minimalist.

With every wave of becoming more of a minimalist I'm getting smaller and finding more efficient ways to do or display things.  How can I make a book shelf look uncluttered?  What do I do with bills? Do I digitize CD's? How do I file important paperwork? 

I'm beginning to see minimalism as more of a process than a one time possession chucking party.  

My fear now is what is at the end.  What happens when there is no more to get rid of?  What does it feel like to be truly naked?  I'm actually a bit scared. 

Who am I apart from my stuff?  Can I honestly feel confident in an independent identity?  

If I had nothing, like a new born baby, would  my tastes change?  Would I have a social class?  What defines class other than possessions?  I would be like a refugee fleeing in the night with nothing but the clothes on my back. 

You have to wonder what that feels like.      

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