Hanson's Ridge
Confession #1: I'm not a minimalist.
I'm just going to get that out of the way. I absolutely see the appeal of a minimalist lifestyle. I know people who rock it. It's not me. So keep that in mind while reading. The minimalist blog Becoming Minimalist published a post responding to the popular decluttering manual The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. The title of the post: "'Does it Spark Joy' is the Wrong Decluttering Question." Joshua Becker writes, "Yet I can’t help but bristle at the phrasing because the question “Does it spark joy?” may actually rob tidying up of its fullest potential in our lives." Confession #2: I starting reading Marie Kondo's book, which outlines the "Konmari" decluttering strategy, including the iconic question Becker rejects. I could not finish it. I felt like it was redundant and I couldn't stand her writing style. So I'm really writing from my own interpretation here. It is ok for possessions to spark joy. Becker worries that we will continue to define our happiness through our possessions if we ask ourselves this question. I do have possessions that spark joy. The perfect sweater, the one that feels like it's giving me a hug. My Dad's ragged old copy of Joy of Cooking with his handwritten annotations. My great-grandmother's egg basket. The rows of antique books on our bookshelves. A minimalist would allow me the sweater and the egg basket, because they both get used regularly. But I have my own copy of Joy of Cooking that isn't falling apart, and I know that I will never read all the books on my shelves. But it's not the consumerist act of possession that gives me joy. In some cases, it's sentimentality. Certainly, we need to be selective in how much we hold onto for sentimental value. I keep sentimental objects either because they are useful (the egg basket), decorative (antique teacups), or because they have strong representation or connection (the cookbook). I find happiness in all kinds of ways besides my possessions: reading with my children (library books our own books bring equal joy), nature walks, delicious food, laughing with loved ones, and so on. These joys are not less because a worn cookbook or the perfect sweater brings me joy. Confession #3: I do not have a capsule or minimalist wardrobe. I tried. But you know what? I like my clothes. I love the idea of doing laundry every day, but I'm not always able to achieve that goal. So I really do need at least a week's worth of clothes. I've stuck to the idea that if I'm not wearing something, I give it away. That means that although I have a fair amount of clothes, they get worn. I have pared down my shoes to keep them more basic. I don't buy as many clothes as I used to--but I'm not going to give away things I like and wear just to get to a magic number or make my closet look streamlined. As cheap things wear out, I am replacing them with quality items, within a budget. Becker's argument is that if we ask ourselves while we are shopping if something sparks joy, we do not curb our consumeristic tendencies. "Retail therapy" certainly has contributed to the average $16,000 of credit card debt carried by Americans. But it's actually the act of swiping a credit card and walking away with a bag that gives a temporary mood boost--it's not what's actually in the bag. When I do shop now, such as shopping for a pair of dress shoes, I think about how I will feel when I am using the item. Will I feel joy every time I use or wear this item? How often will I be able to use this item? I bought a pair of shoes to fulfill the need, but they didn't spark joy. I returned them and found something I loved and would wear more regularly. Before becoming a mindful consumer, I probably would have just kept the first pair as a pair of dress shoes and bought another pair of shoes to meet the unfilled gap. I did buy a pair of slippers--after ten months of dithering. And I can tell you...putting on a comfortable pair of slippers after months of walking barefoot on hardwood--that sparked serious joy. Confession #4: I do not have a minimalist kitchen While I try to avoid single task kitchen tools, sometimes I find it enormously satisfying to have just the right tool for the job. I have a cake tester. I use it every single time I bake. I could use a toothpick...but the cake tester is less wasteful and works better. We have quite a few measuring cups, spatulas, and spoons. And there are days where we use every single one. I know I could wash and reuse, but I'm often doing so many things at once that stopping to do dishes and dry them would throw me off my game. We have worked on paring down the things we don't use, but we use a lot. We definitely still have more than we need. We entertain on a relatively large scale several times a year. At Thanksgiving, I always host, and I pull out all the stops. We usually have anywhere between 10 and 20 people. And I have enough china and silver for everyone. I love pulling out the china. Two sets are inherited, and I feel warm and fuzzy eating off of those plates. Confession #5: I'm a halfway minimalist mom. Right now, if you walk into our basement playroom, you will see a play tent, a train table, a couple of ride on toys, and a single bin of smaller toys. It's way less than most houses we go into. The difference is that we keep toys in storage and do a toy rotation. A minimalist would just get rid of everything. But I like doing a rotation. It keeps things fresh while keeping clean-up to a minimum. Plus, we keep having kids, so outgrowing toys isn't something that's happened to us yet. I don't buy huge amounts of clothing for my kids. My general rule for them is a week's worth of clothing. But I never say no to hand-me downs either. I haven't bought more than a couple of items in the past couple of sizes, but they do not have minimalist wardrobes. --- I'm realizing this post comes off as a little defensive about why I'm not a minimalist. It may even sound like I'm attacking minimalism. I'm not. I think it's just right for some people. Here's the point I'm really trying to make: non-minimalism does not mean high consumerism. I'm not a minimalist, I'm a mindful consumer. It's a new position for me, but it does feel good. I am getting rid of things I don't use or need, but not to fit an arbitrary number. I am buying less than I bring into the house, and thinking over most purchases before we get them. I had a $25 Target gift card for the baby, and it took me a reallllly long time walking around the baby section before I picked something out, just because we needed hardly anything at all. I used to be a huge impulse shopper. I used to feel like the need for something justified the expense, even when we couldn't really afford it. I used to feel like cheap was value. That kind of thinking has changed. I've also noticed that finding ways to cut down on clutter and keeping things tidy makes me happy. I'm not the greatest at it because I'm still working on establishing good habits, like putting things back in their place when I'm done. I am, however, very aware of what it does to me when the house is in disarray. I doubt I'll ever live in a pristine house. It's just not who I am. But at least there's not an enormous jumble of cheap shoes all over the bottom of my closet anymore. ----
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AuthorHi! I'm Stephanie Hanson. I live with my husband, Himself, on Hanson's Ridge in Virginia. Archives
September 2017
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