There is nothing wrong with having a goal to achieve. 100 items is quite a small number, and what one chooses to include in that number says a lot about them. Anyone can have a lot, but few can have a little (by choice, not circumstance). Lots of people pride themselves on how much they have, yeah? Big houses to hold big things and all. For many, it's a physical show of success and satisfaction. So, from a non-conformist standpoint, minimalism is quite attractive. There's even a challenge, there: Will I be happy with less? Even happier?
Of course one can. Happiness is relative. From a material viewpoint, stuff is just a collection of atoms in a pleasing arrangement. It usually only has as much value as we assign. From a more nihilist viewpoint, nothing matters anyway, so why bother with striving for a lot, when the lot is worth as much as the little? That is, of course, nothing. Personally, I view a lot of stuff as just that -- a lot of stuff. Some stuff doesn't serve any purpose, though, and so I have less stuff.
And that's why I'm a bit more comfortable with the label "essentialist" than "minimalist," but I use both labels. I value, well, value, over less. It just so happens that I don't value a lot, ergo I have few things. Hence, I call myself "minimalist." However, I won't get rid of stuff in an effort to have little. The stuff I have is essential! So I call myself "essentialist."
Why do I call myself these? Rather, why do I willingly plaster labels to my person? Because labels help with classification. Sounds obvious, but it helps when people need an explanation so that they can understand the world better. For example, a surprisingly common question is, "Why don't you have cable TV?" My answer: "I find the Internet to be more valuable, making cable TV rather redundant." In this case, it's redundancy makes it valueless; it makes it a nonessential. Not useful. Unnecessary. So, I don't have cable. But I do have video sites, such as Youtube, in case there's a show or clip that strikes my fancy.
Another question concerns furniture. A traditional desk requires a stool or chair. Two items that work together. However, my desk allows me to sit on the floor, which eliminates the need for dual furniture. Suddenly, something necessary (the chair) becomes nonessential. Less stuff. More minimal. Easy. See what I mean? I need a desk for ergonomic/work purposes, but with a certain kind of desk, I need less.
Some things don't work that way, though. And this is really where essentialism shines. Suppose you have 100 things. Suppose the 101st object is a fire extinguisher. You're weighing whether you need it at all. After all, you've never had a fire in your home; at least, it was more than ten years ago. Why keep what you'll probably never use? Because the future is uncertain. It is better to be prepared than have one less item, just to say you're that more minimal. It's a fire extinguisher. It isn't huge or unwieldy. I've never been in an apartment that didn't have one in its stock configuration. It's essential, after all.
To distill that entire paragraph: Certain kinds of minimalism will lead to dying off. Yes, that's dramatic. No, I can't imagine anyone not owning a fire extinguisher because it's too much. Then again, I wouldn't imagine a crowd of people (hipsters?) voluntarily sitting and watching a woman open a can of expired soup, rub it on her shirt while reciting a poem backwards, then cut open her jeans and discharging something from her vagina. And then they all applaud! But that's a performance titled Interior Semiotics (link NSFW). And that's a different can of worms. Or Spaghetti-Os.
Plus, I don't really feel that a warning about keeping fire extinguishers is needed. Still, stop signs should be built before crashes and all. Although, I'm not some sort of minimalist government responsible for public safety... I hope. If I were, I'd also tell you to wear a paracord bracelet and keep a first-aid kit and perhaps store everything in a bug-out bag. And now, we're overlapping with survivalism. And that's okay.
I mean, shouldn't stuff be integral to survival? Let me go ahead and split this tangent into two topics: survival and hoarding. On the survival side of view, your stuff won't weigh you down. It helps you live another day, or another month, or another year. Maybe it all needs to be carried at all times. Maybe it should be able to fit on a truck bed. Or maybe, it needs to be stuff that's easily disposable. Stuff that can be cut away quickly if necessary.
I'm of the mind that less stuff means less to worry about. If there's a fire and I have one minute to round up stuff I cannot live without, I do not want to have to decide between two laptops. True, I'm supposed to vacate immediately, right? And leave everything behind? Yeah, right. Laptop, camera, shoved into a prepared bug-out bag. Done.
Different scenario: I have one hour to get out of Houston because there is, I don't know, a tsunami/hurricane/ICBM headed my way. The last thing I want to think about is how my collection of fine China will be reduced to nothing. Relatedly, the last game I want to play is Tetris as I try to fit that collection into our small SUV. I don't have a collection of China for these very reasons. Or two laptops.
I feel secure when I have enough. Monetarily, when I can walk into a store and buy any food I want (because most of my life revolves around food, but that's a different post). Physically, when I can carry any of my friends on my back. Emotionally, when.... well, I don't. And spiritually, when I'm not swayed by various churches passing out pamphlets for a better life -- my religion is fine, thanks, fancy a magazine?
Better said, I'd feel less secure with more. Emergency planning aside, I really hate walking into a room and sighing because of all the stuff spilling out from everywhere. My desk is one thing; everything is within easy reach, so why use shelves and drawers? But the entire room, or, the entire house, needs some organization. If I can spend two hours organizing my files on my computer, I can spend at least one making sure the kitchen is in shape.
For some, though, it's different. They feel secure by having so much stuff, and from an armchair anthropologist standpoint, that's really interesting. There's this illusion of security, and it's always visible. After all, you can't help but turn around, if you have the space to turn around, and see the products of your hard work. Can't help but open the fridge and see seven chickens and feel some satisfaction that you won't run out. Can't help but drive the Jeep and not worry about breaking down because you've got another car at home and you'll just take that if you have to because isn't that why you have it anyway?
See the idea? Mind you, that's not to say every hoarder has this mindset. I know the ones in my family, myself a few years back included, do.
And no, I haven't completely shrugged off the habit. I finish role-playing games with a full inventory because I never know if I'll need a certain item. That's part of why I quit playing Runescape way back when; I couldn't hold everything I felt I needed. That's also why I currently have, in the Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, two jars with faeries, Fairy's Tears, and lantern oil. Why? Well, what if I run out of hearts? What if I run out of oil? Oh no! Say it isn't so!
...What if my toaster catches on fire?
Well, good thing I kept the fire extinguisher.
It's all about essentials. I have the faeries because I don't have the maximum achievable amount of hearts yet. Hence, sometimes I run out; I'm not the best player. Instead of starting a stage/level/dungeon from the beginning, I can keep going for a bit longer. It's essential. Similarly, when my sister accidentally started a grease fire, I got the fire extinguisher and put it out. Had I ever needed one before? No. Was I glad for having one? Yes.
One last thing: I value some things that aren't essential for most people, but are for me. For example, my copy of Twilight Princess. I don't need it, in the strictest sense. However, I do like relaxing every now and then (about once a week or so) and sitting down to play it. It's fun in a way that anything I do online isn't. That is, I enjoy reading Cracked or Wikipedia, and can lose the better part of the day doing that as well, but I don't get the same level of bliss. I'm not sure how to explain it. Just, whenever I need to really unwind, I play Zelda. And that's where the value comes from. That's what makes it essential. The game isn't necessary for life, but it does give me a certain something; enough to keep it, and the Gamecube and telly to make it work, around.
So that's it for now. Essentials over minimals, although they overlap. I'll continue this with a post on choices and how they affect us; it's all related, trust me.
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