Packing a Life: A Study in the Benefits of Minimalism

What are we really doing when we pack our things in order to move someplace else?

The phrase "pack our things" seems so simple and straightforward. Monosyllabic. Three words. Action and results oriented. However, these words entail something much more than putting items into boxes. These words involve confronting the past, and setting a new course for the future. 

In June of 2017, I officially moved from Chicago, Illinois to Fort Collins, Colorado. Moving myself physically was fairly undemanding: I packed some suitcases, boxes, plants, and a few other miscellaneous items into my small hatchback before my dog Chauncey hopped into the passenger's seat with his tennis ball. I left Chicago at 4:30 a.m., and drove away from the rising sun. I arrived at 7:20 p.m. just as the last rays of light waved goodbye beyond the foothills. Having arrived six weeks prior, Josh waited for me in the driveway, welcoming me into our new life. As I mentioned, the moving itself was easy. I simply drove from point A to point B. However, the work done to make this move happen was a bit more calculated.

“The question of what you want to own is actually the question of how you want to live your life.” - Marie Kondo

When Josh and I were in the midst of dating, we sat together and discussed: what kind of life do we want? The answer to that question was easy. We want a simple life, an unencumbered life. A life where we are not held back by the physical and mental clutter of "things." In order to achieve our goal, we have to allow ourselves to let go of the sentimental material goods from the past, therefore creating space for a more fulfilling emotional life for our future. Eliminating the excess is important so that we can move into the space beyond. The space where we will live should be a place for nurturing the people we are becoming, instead of a feeding area for the spirits of the past. 

Packing and moving presents a special opportunity to evaluate our past lives, giving us a chance to shape the future.

Before the real packing began, Josh and I went from room to room, contemplating each and every item we owned. We've been living together for two years, so by now his possessions have become my possessions and vice versa. In turn, we carefully considered each piece of artwork, each kitchen accessory, each pair of sheets, and each clothing item.

We consciously evaluated our stuff using our own version of the Marie Kondo method: does this item make us happy? Has it proven useful to us over the past year? Will this item have a purpose and place in our new lives? Have I worn that dress during the last six months? Will he ever wear that t-shirt again? We queried what we owned by thinking about the life we wanted to share together. If the items didn’t make the cut, we donated or sold them, making even more room for “everything that remains” (The Minimalists).

Chauncey made the cut :-)

It is interesting to think about the action of packing and moving a life. The process involves just as much physical labor as it does mental labor. Packing and moving can be stressful and irritating, and people usually loathe the thought of moving.

Taking the time to donate or sell unwanted items can really be annoying and laborious. However, behind every stressful, irritating cloud there exists a silver lining.

By donating or selling our unwanted belongings, we’re getting rid of stuff that takes up unnecessary mental space and physical space.

We had a multi-family garage sale to get rid of a lot of our things. Took a lot of time and energy, but ultimately it was a success.

These extra belongings would therefore be taking up our time, and preventing us from living the best lives we can possibly live. Stuff is meant to serve us, not the other way around. Our boxes of carefully chosen belongings will continue to serve us in another location.

Another benefit to downsizing is that it’s a great opportunity for reflection. Contemplating the things we own and deciding which things deserve to be carefully concealed with paper and securely packed into a box allows us to revisit the past. The process is similar to turning the pages of the book of life: reflecting on bygone days while preparing for the future. When considered out of context, our boxes stacked the garage, ready to be "Tetris-ed" into our POD, are a snapshot in time. These boxes are a representation of who we are now, and a harbinger of who we will become. 

When we packed our lives, we examined our inner selves, completing a rite-of-passage into our new life together.  

Looking to the future.

After arriving in Fort Collins, we were able to revisit our belongings with a renewed sense of purpose. Each item that survived our selection process and arrived unscathed be the journey from Chicago to Colorado was integrated into our new home. However, just because our things made the cut doesn’t mean they are kept around indefinitely. As evolving minimalists, we try to incorporate decluttering and downsizing all year long. This habit keeps us future-minded. By clearing away the excess, we can truly focus on what is important in our lives.

“Minimalism is about getting rid of life’s excess in favor of the essential” - Joshua Fields Millburn

Letting go, with love

Last month, I found a new home for my best friend.

On a Wednesday evening, I took Chauncey across the street to our neighbors’ house. I brought along his crate, a few toys, and some food. We sat at the table discussing Chauncey’s personality and care while he frantically located all the tennis balls under the couch.

It was meant to be a trial weekend to see if he got along with their pack: two dogs, three cats, two humans.

Things I probably said: He eats 1.5 cups of food a day. You’ll know he’s happy when he’s play-bowing and talking and wagging his tail of course. He sleeps most of the day. He’s very vocal. He loves tennis balls: he plays this game with himself where he balances the ball between his snout and front paws, and chases the ball when it gets away from him. He likes to cuddle.

Things I don’t remember saying: I love you. You are an amazing dog. You taught me so much. I’m going to miss you. Goodbye, old friend.

The trial was a complete success - he was quickly and lovingly welcomed into the fold.

Since then, I’ve developed a habit of peering at my neighbor’s house every chance I can get. I can just make out their backyard from the baby’s room. I can see their front door from my office window. I can’t help it.

How are you, old friend? Are you happy again?

Chauncey was my very first dog and only dog.

When he was just 8 weeks old, I whisked Chauncey away from a ramshackle, urine-stained house in Kankakee, Illinois to my tiny grad school apartment in the hills West of Boston. Three years later, he moved with me to a two-bedroom apartment near downtown Evanston. After that, we ended up on the shores of Lake Michigan. Then, to a rural llama farm in Colorado. And now, 8 years after moving Chauncey from Kankakee, we now live in suburban Fort Collins.

I took him everywhere I could.

He’d sit in the passenger seat, with his head out the window, and sometimes he’d get spooked by some passersby and try to crawl in my lap even though he was too big. Everyday, we walked almost 3 miles. I’d release him in the sands of Lake Michigan, and he spent hours digging holes and playing with his ball.

On winter walks, his little paws would get cold and he’d hop around on three legs, waving the injured appendage at me. I’d scoop him up, all 33 lbs of him, and walk a few blocks, massaging the hurt paw with my mitten.

Last year, he overheated on a longer hike through Prairie Ridge, and I carried him 2 miles home. I was 32 weeks pregnant with my son, Miles.  

Miles was born in May of 2018. Chauncey observed from the sidelines as the baby began to change into a tiny mobile human.

Miles and Chauncey seemed to live in relative harmony at first. Miles took very little notice of Chauncey; Chauncey basically ignored Miles.

Gradually, Chauncey begin to show signs of jealousy and distress.

He anxiously dealt with the reduced attention he received from me, and he began retreating into corners, under beds, and in heaps of freshly washed laundry. He also began to wedge himself between Miles and me at every chance he got. When Miles began crawling, Chauncey’d tip-toe around him with his fur arched, his tail erect. He seemed at attention, ready to snap. I found myself greatly fearing Chauncey’s future hypothetical actions. I’d seen him bare his teeth and respond viciously to dogs (and people) who he perceived as a threat to his existence.

I spent my days policing Chauncey and Miles, trying to keep both of them safe from harm. In love, I tried to reduce the anxiety that plagued Chauncey caused by the unpredictable nature of a baby. I tried to keep Miles away from him at all times. The effort took a toll on me. I knew I wouldn’t always be there to separate the two of them. It made me incredibly nervous and stressed. My autoimmune disease began flaring up. I began to experience the familiar lower and upper back stiffness and slight sciatica associated with my ankylosing spondylitis, which had been in remission since moving to Fort Collins in 2017.

I began to think the worst of my sweet dog.

I used to think the best of him.

Of course, I looked into hiring a trainer. I mulled over putting Chauncey in doggy-boot camp or taking him to a behaviorist. I posted on Facebook forums and solicited advice from reputable sources. I tried anti-anxiety remedies and treats laced with CBD. Friends gave me their educated recommendations. I just wanted him to “get better” and to love the baby! I saw photos of my friends’ dogs giving their babies kisses, and cuddling with the babies, and letting the babies ride them.

Chauncey could “get better,” right?

However, as much training as we might try, I had to face the true reality: I had very little time for Chauncey. I couldn’t give him all the attention he was used to: I was simply satisfying his very basic needs and could do nothing really more than that. Food, water, shelter, walks. Not a lot of playtime. Very few snuggles. It wasn’t fair to him. And he was reacting to the changes, showing me that something needed to be done. Chauncey needed more than I could give.

I know I can no longer give Chauncey what I used to, but I needed to pay tribute to our history, and honor what he’s given me.

I’d tearfully remember our happy memories together when I’d see him curled up on the nursing chair, his favorite sleeping spot. He chose this chair because it was mine. He knew I’d return to it eventually. And this made me so sad. He’d sometimes bring a toy to the far end of the room, position his body towards mine, place the toy between his paws, and whine at me. But I couldn’t always play, and it broke my heart.

Caring for Chauncey made me who I am today.

Chauncey came into my life at a time when I needed to learn how to unconditionally love another living being. He also taught me the true meaning of responsibility, commitment, patience, and loyalty. Walking him daily kept me outside and active, and helped me become more comfortable with making new friends: there’s something about having dogs that makes it easier to talk to people. He kept me in check - I had to plan my outings responsibly, and couldn’t stay out late at night since there was a little pupper waiting for me at home. Chauncey always came first, and I thrived as his dog-momma.

Now, things are different. I know I can no longer give Chauncey what I used to, but I needed to pay tribute to our history, and honor what he’s given me. I have to come to terms with the changes in our family. It’s wrong of me to hang on to Chauncey just because of our past. Such a beautiful past, but that was then. And now Chauncey deserves better than what I can give him. He needs a friend, someone who can learn and grow with him for years to come. Someone who can give him more than the minimum.

I have to come to terms with the changes in our family.

After deliberating for months about what to do, trying my hardest to give Chauncey love and attention, and working with him on getting used to Miles, my neighbors came out of nowhere with open arms and hearts. Even though they already had 5 animals, they wanted my old friend to join the pack.

It takes love to let go when you want to hold on.

I know deeply that Jennifer and Shelly will provide a happy, safe, and warm home for Chauncey. I can rest assured that I’ll be able to see him as often as I’d like, knowing he’s just across the street. One of these days, I’ll knock on the door, and be greeted by my happy, bouncy fur-baby, and all will be forgiven.

I love you. You are an amazing dog. You taught me so much, and you have so much left to give. I’m going to miss you. Goodbye, old friend.

Finding Freedom and Fulfillment by Conquering Debt

Every now and then I have the good fortune of being able to feature the works of like-minded bloggers. Today, I'm featuring a story about finding freedom by conquering debt and its accompanying anxiety. This article is written by none other than Claire Wilde of Want Less. 

Personal debt can be incredibly devastating, as it can lead to both emotional and physical damage. The average for households that carry debt in the United States and in the United Kingdom is about $16,372. Read on to see how Claire found personal fulfillment by acknowledging her anxiety, conquering her debt, and discovering financial freedom.

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About Claire:

Claire Wilde of Want Less and Simplicity Voices.

Claire Wilde is the author of Want Less, a blog centered on minimalism, "escaping the rat-race, logging off from the screens and resisting the pull of 21st century consumerism." She loves sharing tips on how to live the best life possible. Claire is also an avid reader of fellow blogger's materials, and compiles her favorites at Simplicity Voices, a space for articles on minimalism, simplifying, slow living, well-being, and discovering financial freedom. 

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How Panic Attacks and a Mountain of Debt Led Me to Simplify my Life, and How You Can Too

by Claire Wilde

Mine was just an average life, but it was a life in crisis.

I had the nice house, the fancy car I couldn't afford, the big TV, and the games console.

I had the overworked middle-management job and the busy social life to unwind on the weekends - with plenty of drinks and meals out, of course.

I had the multiple holidays abroad each year, packed with activities each day so I really got the most out of every trip.

But I also had a secret mountain of debt at a time when my job security was looking rockier and rockier.

The stress and worry of my overcommitted life came to a head one sleepless night, when my first panic attack set in. I had no idea what it was, which made it all the more frightening. I thought my heart was going to stop.

This is the closest I came to a "light bulb" moment, when I knew something needed to change; although, in reality this wake-up call has been a years-long process that in some respects I am still going through now.

First, I changed jobs and left my brief career in management behind.

My next big change came on honeymoon. My wife had brought along a book on minimalism, and when I read it I knew that my possessions were adding to my constant state of overwhelm and worry.

I've always been both a sentimental and a messy person, which means I tend to keep hold of as many possessions as possible, then leave them in a constant state of disarray.

When we got back home, I slowly got rid of about a third of my belongings. It felt great.

I then cut back massively on my spending, and paid off every penny of my debts. It was long, and hard, and boring, and totally worth it.

Now I'm looking at other ways I can simplify my life and more importantly inject more fun, laughter and spontaneity into it.

If anything in my story resonates with you, here are some steps you might take to simplify your life too:

1. Try to step away from anything that's making you truly miserable

That might be a stressful job, a bad relationship, a heap of debt or another millstone around your neck. Sometimes, such things can seem completely inescapable so find someone to confide in if you need extra support. You are never alone and situations are never helpless.

2. Make peace with your limitations

Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you work at things, it's never enough? If so, you're not alone. 'Productivity' can be a dangerous concept when it makes people feel like they have to be working at peak performance every minute of the day. That's just a fast-track to burnout. So make sure you build unstructured time into your day and don't scold yourself if you catch yourself daydreaming. It's natural, healthy and downright fun to waste time.

3. Cut your commitments to find more time for yourself

As I've already mentioned, I'm a big believer in kicking back and doing nothing at all, but chances are you might not have much time for such a luxury. Well, one way to make time is by starting to say no to things you might otherwise feel obliged to say yes to. Ditch that book you're not enjoying. Politely decline that event you don't want to go to. Build pauses into your day and then guard them fiercely.

4. Pare down your possessions

I'll be frank here: in my view, you don't have to get rid of the majority of your belongings to feel the benefits. I'm not sure I'll ever be a hardcore minimalist. But just saying goodbye to the items which felt like they were dragging me down really did lift my mood on a daily basis.

5. Stop comparing yourself to others

Have you ever been to visit a friend, only to be consumed by envy at their swanky property, tasteful furnishings or high-tech gadgets? I won't lie, it's hard to banish jealousy from your head, but next time you feel that way, just notice it and ask yourself why you feel that way.

6. Cut down on your social media use

This is another huge one if you want to stop feeling jealous when you look at your friends' lives. Notice how you feel after you've been in social media, and if it is making you feel low, find ways to cut back.

7. Get out more

Yup, out in the open air. If left to my own devices, I'll happily sit on my laptop all day so I sometimes have to force myself to go for a walk – and always feel better for it.

8. Find your happy

Try to notice those days when you feel really uplifted. What has made you feel that way? For me, it's when I'm around really close family or friends, when I'm lost in a hobby, when I'm being active, when I'm exploring somewhere or something new or when I'm being spontaneous. But I'm spectacularly bad at actually making sure I do all these things on a regular basis. In life, there will always be drudgery, but make sure you know what your antidotes are.

Bring Back Boredom on Break the Twitch

Hello to readers of Everthrive! 

Recently, I was offered the opportunity to write and record guest content for Anthony Ongaro of Break the Twitch, a website that focuses on minimalism, habits, and creativity. My article "Why We Should Bring Back Boredom" discusses what boredom is, why we think boredom is something to avoid, and what we can learn from boredom. It concludes with ways we can use boredom to our advantage. The goal of my post is to show that boredom is actually a good thing, and not a thing to escape from. 

This was my very first guest post, and my very first recorded Skype call!

You can read "Why We Should Bring Back Boredom" by visiting Break the Twitch. Below, you'll find the video of Anthony and I chatting about Everthrive, why I created my site, and what we can do about boredom. 

A bit about the process of creating guest content...

At first, I was daunted by the task of creating content for a site other than Everthrive. However, understanding boredom - taking time to really reflect, disengage, and grow from those stagnant times in life - is a subject I am very passionate about. I was so thrilled to have the opportunity to share my ideas with Break the Twitch's community! The video element was a challenge for me, as I'm not quite used to being video recorded, especially at close-range. Despite Anthony's very helpful and reassuring coaching, I was rather nervous about the whole filming aspect of the post. But, I guess I did OK? 

Looking back, I know that the experience of being filmed was invaluable. Watching the footage helps me to develop a fuller awareness of how others may see me, gives me a chance to reflect on how I express myself physically and verbally, thereby helping me to be a better communicator. 

Thank you, Anthony, for the opportunity to grow and share with you! 

Time Heals

We are very fortunate to have a beach where we live. Locust trees provide for a little shade when we need it, and there are rarely any other people nearby. The absence of neighbors promotes contemplation, and the solitude invites childhood whimsies such as collecting sea glass.

Together, my husband and I have gathered almost three pounds of sea glass, which we keep in a jar in the kitchen window where the sun can play on it, creating constellations on the ceiling when the time is right. 

Sea glass is so fascinating. Its translucence. Its pale warmth when held to the light. Its simplicity. We think of it as treasure, but it's just the product of broken glass bottles, smoothed over by years of erosion. Sea glass is evidence of the healing nature of time.

Time wears down the sharp edges of the glass, producing after years those soft edges that we cherish. Just as time smooths a broken piece of glass, time can also heal our own jagged edges. Stress, tragedy, and illness can shatter our souls, but with time and energy our trauma can be relieved. The glass is still glass, we are still ourselves, but when we do the work to heal, our perspectives can change. Without our once-sharp edges, we couldn't be who we are today.

By embracing the power and beauty of our new selves, we can begin to understand why we had to endure that stress, that tragedy, and that trauma. We can collect ourselves, stand back, and admire our treasure. We can watch how the light plays on the smooth surfaces of our healthy and happy souls. 

“Time may smooth the stone, but time will never wear it away.” - Erin Hunter

When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge

Last weekend, I enjoyed a long lunch in the city with my fiancé and our friend Jon. Afterwards, we needed to get to Lincoln Park, and had been planning on taking the CTA. But, when it came time to depart, we made the impromptu decision to walk. It was a gorgeous late spring day in Chicago - perfect for a four mile stroll.

This may not be the best example, but it is an example nonetheless. We chose to walk, breaking our pattern. We changed our plan. We simply traveled north, barely consulting our GPS. We decided to meander through the zoo - it's free! why not? - and, to my elation, we happened upon an amazing art piece near Lincoln Park Zoo's South Pond. I had seen photos of this arch in my Instagram feed, and often wondered where it was, reaching its curvaceous wooden beams towards the sky.

As the arch meets the sky, a pattern is broken, and an appreciation for art and nature takes over. Instead of thinking about the negative impact that civilization has on the world, we think of the positive. Our impulsive decision to forgo public transportation was validated. This arch offered us a zen retreat in the midst of car horns and bustling commuters. Surrounded by a natural prairie landscape, this place provided an entrance to a new world of calm and peace.

“When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge.” - Tuli Kupferberg
 

Reflect

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." - Soren Kierkegaard*

I took this photo in 2009 while on a family vacation in British Columbia. We had been out all day, searching for humpback and fin whales: both had been seen migrating south for the winter. On our cruise back to the hotel, I caught my brother gazing back at the wake of the boat, losing himself in the ripples of the ocean. Maybe he was thinking about his career, what he would choose for dinner, or where the whales actually were - since we didn't see any that day. I didn't disturb him to find out. I could tell he was in a state of reflection.

Reflection is something that is overlooked in daily life. Unless we are relatively alone, on the ocean, staring into the blameless blue ripples of our seafaring vessel, we find it difficult and perhaps pointless to contemplate our actions. Why waste valuable time to essentially daydream when we have so many tasks that already occupy our time, and they only seem to increase as we get older?

Caught up in the daily "everything," we usually forget to listen to ourselves. Of utmost importance is slowing down and being with ourselves. It's good to pick the same time each day - I do this before I go to bed - to drift off into thought, and rethink actions and choices. Instead of merely thinking, you can choose to write in a journal, go outside, be in nature, or visit an art gallery. Art and nature are both very effective triggers for reflection, just so long as you are in quiet, contemplative solitude.

Questions to consider while reflecting: How am I feeling right now? What contributes to my happiness today? What am I excited about? What am I grateful for?

The benefits of reflection are boundless, since daydreaming and solitude have been meaningfully linked to increased mindfulness and creativity. Nicola Tesla - engineer, physicist and futurist - attested to this, saying "The mind is sharper and keener in seclusion and uninterrupted solitude. Originality thrives in seclusion free of outside influences beating upon us to cripple the creative mind." Faisal Hoque, author of Survive to Thrive, supports Tesla's claims about solitary reflection when he writes about the success of leaders and entrepreneurs, and how they are more able to "experience critical awakenings during self-imposed solitude."

Whether you are an entrepreneur, a physicist, or a blogger, your personal growth is born from reflection. If you make time to be alone and think about yourself, even 10 minutes each day, reflection can give you the courage to see the world differently, to see your life differently, and to commit to making the changes that you need to be happy. As the wise philosopher Kierkegaard* once said, even though life must be lived forward, it "can only be understood backwards." 

Pause

If you allow yourself to pause, you might feel love from an unexpected place. 

Most days begin in a rush, and end in a sigh of relief. What follows is a listing of an average day: At dawn, wake up, take out the dog, eat breakfast, get dressed, pack work stuff and self into vehicle. Then, weave in and out of the early morning rush to arrive at a destination where many hectic hours are logged, some things are accomplished but more “to dos” are discovered and logged for future days that aren’t hectic. Again, pack self back into vehicle, do the reverse commute, and end up home where the dog needs to go out, dinner needs to be created, eaten, and digested, lunch for the next day needs packing, laundry needs folding, and then there might be some time to connect with loved ones and read a few pages of that lonely book on the nightstand.

In a day's monotony, it is easy to lose yourself. Your actions - robotic, urgent, and repetitive - can limit your ability to feel present, human, and connected. One simple way to access your sense of self, and unique point of view, would be to press pause. 

In the middle of any task, try taking yourself out of it. Pause and focus on one aspect of that moment, and think closely. Consider it. This could be the whir of air circulating from your desk fan, or it could be the intricate lacing of ice on the windowpane. This tiny act of observation can allow for creativity to creep in, stimulating your imagination, and bringing your unique perception back to the surface. This helps you reconnect with your surroundings, and may kindle a sort of partnership with your environment. If you allow yourself, you might be inspired by some poetic aspect of your surroundings. On a particularly challenging day, you might just be reassured by the subtle affection of a common red standpipe valve.

-Everthrive

Click here for related content: Maria Shriver's USC address "The Power of the Pause"