The documentary Minimalism (watched it) has been trending on Netflix and The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up (skimmed it) has become a phenomenon. It appears a few of us have worked ourselves up to a fever pitch of enthusiasm regarding living more simply, having less, and ensuring what we surround ourselves with is useful, beautiful, and/or both.
Being stressed out by stuff is not new to me. I’m kind of terrible at organizing things like closets and drawers. I laugh at my inability to properly deal with socks and think George Carlin mocked me directly when he said, “That’s the whole meaning of life, isn’t it? Trying to find a place for your stuff.” Adding two new little humans to my life has made my struggle with stuff even more apparent.
In all seriousness, I have been feeling overwhelmed by the barrage of things I have acquired in my life, including my very long hair that’s constantly in knots. This has me interested in being a tad more of a minimalist (if that statement even makes sense).
Is my interest in minimalism partnered with privilege? Yes, absolutely. I am lucky enough to not only have everything I need, but also many of the things I want. The tendency for those interested in this trend to also have the luxury of choice is at the crux of fair criticisms of the minimalist “movement” (read some of these criticisms here and here).