Joshua Becker's Blog, page 105

Inspiring Simplicity. Weekend Reads.

Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it. It requires a conscious decision because it is a countercultural lifestyle that stands against the culture of overconsumption that surrounds us.

The world we live in is not friendly to the pursuit of minimalism. Its tendencies and relentless advertising campaigns call us to acquire more, better, faster, and newer. The journey of finding simplicity requires consistent inspiration.

For that reason, I hope you will make an effort this weekend to find a quiet moment with a cup of coffee or tea and enjoy some of these hand-picked articles to encourage more simplicity in your life.

How My Financial Adviser Completely Changed My Perspective on Money | Business Insider by Sarah Von Bargen. There are basically three approaches to saving: You can work more. You can save more. Or you can want less.

25 Things I Learned Selling My Life Possessions | Medium by Adam Jowett. The most precious things have no correlation to how expensive they were when bought.

Compared to… | Seth’s Blog by Seth Godin. Just because a thing can be noticed, or compared, or fretted over doesn’t mean it’s important, or even relevant.

Why I’ve Chosen to Buy Nothing New for 8 Years | Money Saving Mom by Katy Wolk-Stanley. Often, the urge to buy something new is a fleeting impulse.

NFL Wide Receiver, Ryan Broyles and wife live on $60,000/year. Invest the Remaining Millions. | ESPN by Michael Rothstein. By being frugal financially, Ryan has set up future.

Understanding the Diderot Effect (and How To Overcome It)

I am not a psychologist, nor am I philosopher. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the goals we pursue, the things we own, and the items we buy. I find it to be a fascinating study into the human spirit.

There are countless reasons we buy more stuff than we need. Some motivations are pushed upon us by society. But other causes seem to spring from our own internal motivations. Either way, arriving at a healthy understanding of why we buy more than we need is a worthy pursuit.

Which is one reason I find the Diderot Effect to be such an interesting phenomenon. This motivation for overconsumption, originally noted in the 18th Century by a French philosopher named Denis Diderot, is still commonplace among us.

The simplest explanation of the Diderot Effect (or at least the part I am most interested in) is this, “the introduction of a new possession into a consumer’s existence will often result in a process of spiraling consumption.”

In other words, the purchase of one new item often leads to the purchase of another. We can see this play out in small ways:

Last week, my wife took my 9-year old daughter school shopping for the upcoming year. On her shopping list was a new backpack. After viewing her choices, my daughter chose one. But this new backpack does not match the lunch bag she used last year—and so, almost immediately, “new lunch bag” was added to the shopping list, even though her lunch bag from last year still worked just fine.

The introduction of a new item (the backpack) resulted in a desire for further consumption. But this, as I mentioned, is only a small example. There are more examples of the Diderot Effect all around us:

We buy a new shirt or dress… and immediately begin looking for new shoes to match.
We bring home a new couch… and suddenly the end tables in our living room appear old and shabby, in need of replacement.
We purchase a new car… and soon begin spending money on car washes, more expensive gasoline, or a parking pass.
We move into a new home… and use the occasion to replace our existing bedroom set with a new one.

In each circumstance, the reality is that we already owned enough shoes and our end tables and bedroom furniture worked just fine before. But because something new had been introduced into our lives, we were immediately drawn into a process of spiraling consumption.

Denis Diderot observed and noted this phenomenon in an essay titled, “Regrets on Parting with My Old Dressing Gown.” In the fictional story, he receives a new, elegant dressing gown from his friend, a kind gesture. However, upon receiving the gown, Denis notices all his other possessions begin to look drab and faded compared to it. He begins replacing them—all of them—even the art on the walls. And by the end of story, Denis notes, “I was absolute master of my old dressing gown, but I have become a slave to my new one.”

In this way, Diderot explains how new consumption often leads to further consumption. But more than that, he argues that we begin identifying with our possessions and search for new things that fit into our specific mold. The purchase of fashion, he would argue, is rarely about the functional use of clothing—it’s not just about finding thread to cover our bodies. Instead, the purchase of clothing (and everything else) represents an opportunity for self-expression.

But for this piece, I am more interested in the idea of over accumulation, how purchases often lead to more, unplanned purchases. Because once you understand the principle, you can begin to break its cycle.

How then might we overcome the Diderot Effect in our lives and resist this pattern of unnecessary consumerism? Let me offer some thoughts:

1. Become aware it is happening. Observe when you are being drawn into spiraling consumption not because you are in actual need of an item, but only because something new has been introduced.

2. Analyze and predict the full cost of future purchases. A store may be having a great sale on a new outfit—but if the new outfit compels you to buy a new pair of shoes or handbag to match, it just became a more expensive purchase than originally assumed.

3. Avoid unnecessary new purchases. Realize the Diderot Effect is a significant force and overcoming it is very difficult. You may avoid replacing those end tables at first, but eventually, at some point down the road, you are going to break down and buy new ones that better match the new couch. There are times when we have a legitimate need to buy new things. But the best way to overcome the Diderot Effect is to never allow it to overpower you in the first place.

4. Remind yourself that possessions do not define you. Abundance of life is not found in the things that you own. Your possessions do not define you or your success—no matter what marketers will try to tell you.

5. Buy things for their usefulness rather than their status. Stop trying to impress others with your stuff and start trying to impress them with your life.

Notice the Diderot Effect in your own life. Soon, as you begin to recognize it around you, it will become one less cause of unnecessary consumerism in your home and wallet (assuming that wallet already matches your handbag).

Greater Riches Than Wealth

The love of money is the root of all evil.

From both personal experience and personal observation, I believe that statement to be true. Many a man or woman in love with money has compromised principle in order to obtain wealth. No doubt you have seen it as well.

There is just one problem with this helpful proverb: We’re quite sure the warning doesn’t apply to us. I mean, we’d never lie, cheat, or steal to gain more money. Therefore, the warning must be for someone else—probably the wealthy.

Herein lies the problem. Nobody ever admits to loving money. Everybody just wants more of it. (tweet that)

In America, if you ask a roomful of people who wants to be rich, almost every hand gets raised. The desire for wealth is almost a forgone conclusion in our society. So much so, in fact, anybody who claims they don’t want more is quickly labeled a madman, a liar, or misinformed.

But I don’t think this assumption concerning our relentless pursuit of money should go unchallenged. It might be a helpful exercise to measure our desires and weigh them against the alternative.

So let me pose a question.

What if the desire for money could be entirely removed from our lives? What riches might stand on the other side? What benefits would we discover?

Allow me to offer seven.

1. Happiness can be discovered. The studies always come out the same. Once our most basic physical needs are met, money adds very little happiness to our lives—even though we always assume it will. Zig Ziglar said it like this, “Money won’t make you happy. But everybody wants to find out for themselves.” Once we remove the desire for money, we are freed to discover happiness has been available to us all along.

2. Security can be found elsewhere. Research from Margaret Clark, a professor of Psychology at Yale, tells us that human beings look for security in two places: possessions and relationships. When one is abundant, the other receives less priority. As we shift the focus of our lives away from the accumulation of more and more money, we may just find that genuine relationships with other people provide far more security and fulfillment than possessions ever can.

3. The negative influence of wealth becomes more apparent. Most of us fear poverty. But very few ever consider the negative consequences of wealth: pride, arrogance, isolation, lack of empathy, and the clouding of moral judgment (just to name a few). Again, we are quick to dismiss the notion that money would ever have that type of influence on us. Because we imagine our life would only be better with more money, we never stop to even consider if that’s true.

4. Work would take on a new focus. If the pursuit of wealth was removed from our affections, we may change our career entirely and choose to do something more fulfilling for 40 hours/week… doesn’t that sound nice? But even if we didn’t change our work assignment, our focus would still change. We may care less about the paycheck and care more about doing a good job for the sake of doing a good job—or maybe for the sake of the person we are serving in our occupation. Work would no longer be selfish, it would become selfless.

5. Generosity could begin today. Generosity benefits the receiver, but it also rewards the giver. Those who are generous with their money and their time take hold of the life that is fully life. They make the world better and their lives fuller. Too often we fall into the thinking if we made more money we would become more generous. But the statistics don’t support that presumption. Generosity is more about priorities than it is about income.

6. Contentment would become attainable. Those who have all they need (food, clothing, shelter) but still constantly desire more, prove their discontent. It is displayed in the items they pursue. I realize that removing the desire for wealth does not necessarily result in contentment, passions can still be directed elsewhere. But it is a great start.

7. Regret is more easily avoided. People who want to get rich fall into a trap that often leads to ruin and regret. They make sacrifices with their time and energy to secure more wealth. They are quick to neglect their family, their health, or their soul. They make small sacrifices every day in order to make more money. But in the end, they will discover they traded the most important for the least. Rejecting an unquenchable desire for more opens up our life to regain focus on the things that truly matter.

This post is not a chastisement of those with money—that would include most of us. And this is also not an argument against hard work, compensation, or earning money.

Instead, this is a post designed to open up a conversation on this blog and in our minds—a conversation about the role of money in our lives. And it is a call to reevaluate our seemingly insatiable desire for more of it.

Inspiring Simplicity. Weekend Reads.

Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it. It requires a conscious decision because it is a countercultural lifestyle that stands against the culture of overconsumption that surrounds us.

The world we live in is not friendly to the pursuit of minimalism. Its tendencies and relentless advertising campaigns call us to acquire more, better, faster, and newer. The journey of finding simplicity requires consistent inspiration.

For that reason, I hope you will make an effort this weekend to find a quiet moment with a cup of coffee or tea and enjoy some of these hand-picked articles to encourage more simplicity in your life.

1 Year, 1 Outfit—365 Days All Done | This Stylish Life by Matt Souveny. It feels so gratifying to get rid of all the extra clutter and it makes you think twice about buying in excess as you realize that some day you’ll need to go through the work of getting rid of it.

25 Lessons When You’re Ready for a Simpler Life | Marc and Angel Hack Life by Marc Chernoff. Our overarching goal is living a life uncluttered by most of the things people fill their lives with, leaving us with space for what truly matters.

Do Fewer Things, More Often | 99u by Allison Stadd. Success often comes from doing a few things extraordinarily well and noticeably better than the competition.

Spoiled Rotten | Boston Magazine by Julie Suratt. Getting what they want, whenever they want it, can undermine children’s learning patience, gratitude, and all those old-fashioned values that help the adults they grow into manage a healthy, responsible, and contented life.

3 Questions I Ask Myself Before Buying Something | The Art of Simple by Tsh Oxenreider. There is no need to beat myself up over past decisions, but it’s always a good idea to make sure my present-day actions align with my convictions.

How Giving Away 1,000 Books Made Me Love Reading Again

Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from James Ball, a former newspaper reporter who thought his story might help others.

A 32-gallon plastic storage container holds approximately 50 paperback books, or 25 hardbacks. If you stack them the right way, you can cram in an extra five paperbacks.

I know this from experience as a book hoarder.

Over the years, I’ve housed dozens of these boxes in my garage. I’ve also stuffed them into closets and tucked them away in guest bedrooms telling myself that “someday” I’d get around to reading the books that had looked so irresistible at the bookstore. But I was lying to myself.

For me, collecting books was no longer a hobby. It had become a labor that was encroaching into my physical space and taking up way too much mental space. Worst of all, I was paralyzed by too many choices, meaning I never read anything anymore.

Something had to give.

A decade ago, my maternal grandmother – the woman who taught me to love books – suddenly died. After the funeral, we set out to clean out her condo.

My grandmother wasn’t a hoarder by anyone’s definition of the word. There were no endless, messy piles of stuff in her house. In fact, she proudly kept her house very tidy and organized, but as we dug into her closets and dressers, it was clear she collected a lot of things. Christmas decorations with price tags still affixed to them, unopened orders from home shopping networks, and – much like myself – a massive collection of printed materials including books.

In her final years, my grandmother led a fairly lonely existence. She had family nearby, and I suspect occasional dinners with them probably blunted the edges of her solitude, but these short visits weren’t enough to fill every single hour. She likely experienced more lonely, existential moments than joyous ones in her final years. Buying things had filled a certain void in her life.

Why, then, in the fullness of life, did I need so many things, I asked myself? I had everything that already mattered. As I hauled the last box of her possessions to a donation center, I vowed that when my time was up, I’d leave my wife and children with memories and experiences, not the chore of cleaning up after me.

When I turned 40, I kicked off a long period of introspection and reflection. I took stock of my life and everything in it. As I read about the minimalist movement, I was drawn to its simplicity and its inherent promise that, with less stuff you actually become a richer person in all aspects of your life.

I read everything written by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus. I became a follower of Joshua Becker and Leo Babauta’s blogs and hung onto every word written by Courtney Carver and Francine Jay.

I nodded my head as they spoke of decluttering and removing the inessential. But while I agreed in principal, it was clear I had a problem.

Still, these were my books. My Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. 1 might not be worth more than a penny on Amazon, but I had toted this very book to my freshman English 102 class at the University of Georgia in the fall of 1991, pouring over short stories by Thoreau and Melville. Surely, that had personal value. And hadn’t I always dreamed of someday opening a used bookstore with an ancient three-legged cat roaming its dusty stacks? When that day came, I would have enough books to seed the business. Note: this is exactly how we lie to ourselves.

I had enjoyed almost none of them because I had lost site of the purpose of owning a book – to extract an experience or bit of knowledge from it and pass it along. By acting this way, I was not only being selfish, but I was doing a massive disservice to myself and others. These books no longer represented joy. They represented unrealized potential and I knew it was time for most of them to go.

I realized that if you’re hanging onto something for no other reason than sentimentality or the thought that, “someday, I’ll need this,” you’re not realizing your fullest self. You’re living inauthentically.

It’s only when we strip away the possessions weighing us down that we can see clearly who we are and what we want to be. Tossing things for the sake of tossing them is a fruitless exercise, but I’d reached the point where my avalanche of books had made me stop loving something I’d once found great joy in. It was the right solution for me.

Getting rid of my excess books wasn’t easy, and it took time. I found myself stalling on purpose.

So I did what any reasonable OCD sufferer would do: I set a firm number for the maximum number of books I’d own. I began paring my collection down from well over 1,000 to 100 of the most essential books – a small number of which I would display for their aesthetic value, but a majority of which I would read and pass along until I owned very few of them then focus on reading solely on my Kindle.

The guy who runs the Boys and Girls Club of America donation trailer has gotten to know me well.

“More books?” he always asks when I drop off another storage container.

“Some good ones today,” I always tell him.

I’m not there yet. As of late July 2015, I’m down to a dwindling selection of 200 books. It’s an improvement that’s yielded an unexpected benefit. With the clutter gone, I’ve had a strong urge to read more. I read voraciously, at least two books a week now.

Suddenly, someday is now. I’d wanted to read Stephen King’s Cujo for nearly 30 years. With the extraneous removed from my life, I finally sat down and read it. Verdict? Decent, but I should have read it a long time ago when it was more my style. This is the danger of holding onto something for too long: it can spoil.

Newly energized in my reading, the only limit is my time, not my desire to collect more books only to squirrel them away in a box.

Another book that survived the cut is Thoreau’s Walden, which I’m currently re-reading. It’s the perfect palate cleanser in my journey to a place where, with each passing year, I accumulate less and less stuff. Maybe my grandkids will thank me someday.

***

James Ball is a former newspaper editor who lives in Northern Nevada with his wife and two sons. He wants to write as a way to help others—not just for work. You can send him a Thank You on Twitter.

The Example We Set

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” —James Baldwin

An interesting story is told of Monterey, California, a coastal town, that quickly became a pelican’s paradise. As the local fishermen returned each day to clean their fish, they would fling the unused internal organs of the fish to the pelicans. The birds graciously accepted their gift and as a result, quickly grew fat, lazy, and contented. Eventually however, when the fishing industry in Monterey took a downturn, the free meals began to slow for the pelicans.

When the change came, the pelicans made no effort to fish for themselves. Instead, they waited around and grew gaunt and thin. Many even starved to death. Because of the free handouts, they had forgotten how to fish for themselves.

To remedy the situation, an unprecedented solution was sought: import new pelicans from the south accustomed to foraging for themselves. These new birds were placed among their starving cousins, and the newcomers immediately started catching fish. Before long, the hungry pelicans followed suit, and the famine was ended.

My son is 12 and my daughter is 9. Right now, and for a little while longer, we live together as a family. This, then, represents my great opportunity to prepare them for life. Whether we like it or not, our children are soaking up values from us as parents about how to live, how to work, and how to achieve significance. We serve as their most trusted examples for life.

Embracing a life content with fewer possessions has modeled for them the important truths that personal belongings are not the key to happiness, that security is found in their character, and that the pursuit of happiness runs a different road than the pursuit of possessions. These are, of course, valuable life lessons they will never learn in a world that often promises short-term happiness in ready-wrapped packages.

There are countless truths I desire to pass on to my children: being content with less is among the most important.

Since embracing the principles of minimalism, I am overjoyed at some of the lessons my children have learned. They have learned:

They don’t need to buy things to be happy. We own far fewer things than we did years ago. We purchase far fewer things than we did years ago. Yet, we are far happier than we were years ago. Go figure.

They don’t need to live life like everyone else. Even though they are not quite old enough to understand all of the intricacies of our minimalist life, they completely understand we have made a decision to live differently than most people in our neighborhood. Our lifestyle has given them permission to live a countercultural life.

They can live within their means. Although our children are not balancing our checkbook, they do hear us speak often about debt, the joy of not being in it, and our desire to stay out of it.

They ought to think carefully about their purchases. Because we believe in giving our kids opportunity to find/grow in their interests, we still need to buy things: toys, school supplies, art supplies, and sporting goods. We just think through our buying decisions more carefully. This is an invaluable lesson for children to learn as they get older. We no longer buy something just because we have the money, we buy things because we need them.

They should gladly share with others. Since we became minimalist when they were young, they have grown up watching us donate many of our belongings to others. They have seen generosity in action.

Clutter is a distraction. They have seen how minimalism creates a home where clutter is scarce. And when it does show up, it can be quickly remedied—and usually is.

The joy of spending time together. Our minimalist home has allowed us the opportunity to spend less time purchasing, cleaning, organizing, and sorting things. We have gladly replaced the time we spent managing stuff with time spent together as a family.

We are in control of our stuff. Not the other way around.

Elevate the Important

Years ago, I read a short book published in 1967 by Charles Hummel called Tyranny of the Urgent. A man ahead of his time, Hummel describes the tension between two contestants battling for our attention: the urgent and the important.

He argues that the urgent things—deadlines at the office, the demands of other people, and even our own “inner compulsions”—typically trump those things which are most important—regular dates with our spouse, time with our kids, personal solitude, exercise, or meditation (just to name a few).

With incredible depth of insight, he notes that important things are polite; they do not clamor for our attention. They wait patiently for us to act. The urgent, on the other hand, boldly cry out impatiently for our time.

In the long run there is a price to pay for the neglect of the important stuff. Like a volcano, there comes a day when the neglected areas of our life explode and wreak havoc. Ironically, we wonder how we missed the warning signs.

One temptation in life is to say, “Well, I just didn’t have enough time to do everything.” But, most frequently, this lack of time is merely a problem of setting appropriate priorities. As Lao Tzu said, “Time is a created thing. To say ‘I don’t have time,’ is like saying, ‘I don’t want to’.”

Today, deciphering the difference between the important and the urgent is even more difficult. David Goodman, from Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine sums it up well, “We are being flooded with so much information, we can’t selectively filter out quickly which is important and which is not important.”

For me, becoming minimalist has always been about more than removing physical belongings. It is also the intentional promotion of the things I most value. It is about deciding what is most important in my life and removing the things that distract me from it. It is about removing the urgent for the sake of the important.

Inspiring Simplicity. Weekend Reads.

Never underestimate the importance of removing possessions you don’t need.

Encouragement is important in all areas of life, but especially when trying to live a life different than those around us.

Encouragement provides us with motivation to persevere. It invites us to dream dreams of significance for our lives. And it begs us to work diligently with optimism and promise.

Overcoming the pull of consumerism is a difficult challenge regardless of our stage in life. Simplicity requires encouragement. To that end, I hope you will find motivation in these articles below.

Each post was intentionality chosen to inspire simplicity in your life. For maximum effect, find a quiet moment this weekend and enjoy them with a fresh cup of coffee or tea.

The Year I Embraced Minimalism and Completed a Yearlong Shopping Ban | Blonde on a Budget by Cait Flanders. This is a fascinating commentary on the lessons learned last year and why she decided to extend the ban to two years.

How to Live a Rich Modern Life Without Debt | The Simple Dollar by Trent Hamm. Stop buying stuff you won’t remember in a week.

Stuff-Focus | Exile Lifestyle by Colin Wright. The real power of minimalism is that it allows us to pull away from our latent stuff-focus so that we might align ourselves with self-actualization and happiness, instead.

8 Things That Make You Happier: Backed by Research | TIME Magazine by Eric Barker. Wouldn’t you love a real list of things that make you happier? Here’s what scientific research says will work.

9 New Simple Living Blogs I Highly Recommend | Becoming Minimalist by Joshua Becker. Earlier this week I posted a list of simple-living blogs I think you might find helpful. If you need more reading (or just missed the list), here it is.

Image: Minimography

9 New Simple Living Blogs I Highly Recommend

I am really quite excited about the current state and future of simplicity-focused blogs on the Internet. I have been writing about minimalism for almost 8 years now. Over that time, I have seen a lot of good writers come and a lot of good writers go.

But every couple years or so, it seems like a fresh wave of writers begins to appear on the scene. If you haven’t noticed, we’re in one right now.

Each writer offers a unique stage of life with unique circumstances and experiences. As a result, each one is able to connect with a different reader or segment of the population. And I think that’s great.

If you are looking for new inspiration, there is no doubt you will find someone on this list below whose voice resonates deeply with yours. Each blog is less than two years old and I am confident each author would welcome the opportunity to connect with like-minded readers.

Break the Twitch | Anthony Ongaro. Anthony is the Marketing Director for the bike share program in Minneapolis-St. Paul, Nice Ride. He writes about observing the way we live, experimenting with our habits, and then changing to better suit our needs. He is creative and genuine. And his video posts are a welcome change of pace.

Smallish Blog | Evelyn Rennich. Evelyn and her family of six live happily in a small-ish house. She writes about their attempts to live modestly, frugally, and green. Evelyn shares beautiful details about her experience and how others can find inspiration through them.

No Sidebar | Brian Gardner. I met Brian several years ago through the introduction of a mutual friend and quickly found we have countless things in common. Since then, we’ve become good friends and he has helped me in immeasurable ways. Brian has assembled a talented team of writers for his No Sidebar Project, a collection of articles on minimalism, productivity and simple living.

Melissa Camara Wilkins | Melissa Camara Wilkins. I needed to read about 2-3 paragraphs of Melissa’s writing to fall in love. Her writing is encouraging and gentle and uplifting—but filled with powerful truth. Her and her husband are raising their six kids in a beach town in Southern California. She writes about defining your unique life and living it with purpose.

Minimal Millennial | Emily Torres. Emily recognizes that many people in her generation (and outside her generation) are dealing with debt, cluttered homes, unhealthy relationships, stressful jobs, or even just trying to figure out how to “grow up” in this ever-changing world. She writes for seekers of happiness, simplicity, health, and well-being.

Jacob Jolibois | Jacob Jolibois. As a side-note, it was Jacob’s blog that inspired this post. I already knew many of the other blogs on this list when I ran into Jacob’s. His well-designed site and helpful approach to blog posts caused me to reflect further on the current state of simplicity-focused writing. Go check it out and make room for more meaning in your life.

Frugaling | Sam Lustgarten. Sam has been blogging for just over two years on the act and art of maximizing your budget and minimizing costs. I’m a big fan of Sam. I appreciate the voice he is bringing to the personal finance world—that financial success is not just about finding more income, sometimes it is found in redefining the life we live.

Blonde on a Budget | Cait Flanders. After paying off $30,000 of debt, Cait adopted a more minimalist lifestyle, tossed 70% of her stuff and is currently in the middle of a two-year shopping ban. Her blog is actually a bit older than two years, but I still thought it deserved mention.  She’s funny, sharp, thoughtful, and lives in Canada (how could it get any better?).

Simple… Not Plain | Janie Baran. What I appreciate about Janie is that her posts contain detailed thoughts on implementing minimalism. She has written about her own personal routine in wardrobe, beauty, laundry, and decluttering. Her writing is not merely inspiration, but also instruction. Whether a reader implements everything she writes or not, just hearing how somebody else incorporates these principles is helpful.

These lists are hard. And even though I spend a considerable amount of time finding simplicity-focused writing online, I admit my scope is limited. Almost without a doubt I have missed blogs that should be included in the list above.

Use the comment section to spread the word about even more new blogs focused on simplicity or minimalism. It can be yours or someone else’s. Include the blog name, one link, and a 2-3 sentence description. Thanks.

The Pieces We Allow Into Our Lives

Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to accomplish something big, we fail to recognize the little moments, that truly give life its magic.

Today, beloved friends moved out of our neighborhood. There is sadness in our home because of it.

We have lived in our little, suburban neighborhood northwest of Phoenix for the last four years. And our friends have been a part of it from the very beginning. In many ways, we have not known life in Arizona without them.

The similarities between our family and theirs are almost too many to count. They have two kids: a son and a daughter—just like us. Their son is the same age as ours and their daughter is only one year older than our daughter. The boys enjoyed sports and video games and riding their bikes to the neighborhood grocery store. The girls enjoyed arts and crafts, swimming, and hours of conversation.

We attended the same school, the same church, and the same community events. We enjoyed the same activities. We were together for birthday parties, trick-or-treating, Super Bowls, and fireworks on the 4th of July.

More than once, a knock on our door in the evening meant warm cookies from our friends just four houses away. They were generous and hospitable, thoughtful and loving.

We knew the move was coming for months and to be honest, I thought very little of it. I mean, people move, that’s just how it works these days.

But things changed yesterday evening. After saying one final good-bye to his best friend of four years, my 12-year old son’s eyes were tear-filled. And mine quickly became so as well.

Later into the night, I ran by their home like I had a hundred times before on my usual route. But this time, it was empty. And my mind began to reminisce about the time we first met.

It was actually quite unassuming. His 8-year old son was on the play set at a small, local park. My son ran over to play with his “friend from school.” And I sat down on a bench next to his father. We talked about sports, work, and moving into the neighborhood. And the rest, I suppose, is history.

I am thankful today, that in that moment, I chose to let David into my life. It was a small, simple occurrence to engage in a conversation with a stranger. But in the end, it had a profound impact on my life.

I wonder, if at its very heart, minimalism is about questioning what pieces we allow into our life. Our lives are finite and we are met with choices every day about what to allow in. And by definition, allowing in one piece necessitates missing another.

Minimalism seeks desperately to evaluate each and every piece. Does it bring joy, value, purpose, and fulfillment? Or does it distract us from it? The evaluation tends to extend much further than physical possessions.

When we invest all of our energy into pursuing financial gain, we miss opportunity for selfless love.

When we clutter our schedules with purely selfish pursuits, we end up neglecting the family that lives right next door.

When we spend a majority of our finances on material excess, we find little space for generosity.

And when we waste countless hours in the mindless consumption of television or smartphone apps, we may miss the new, life-giving relationship sitting on the bench across the park from us.

Our lives become the sum total of the pieces we allow in. May we be intentional and thoughtful about each. (tweet that)

And all the best to you David and Doreen and family in San Antonio.