9 Symptoms

I've been reading very slowly for stronger absorbtion a book called Radical Simplicity by Jim Merkel.  Derived from his own research, he discusses successful 3rd world examples not flea bitten savages but rather simple people living on a local micro economy and sustainability.

They are content with less than 2% of the possessions than the average American.  Granted they are acclimated.  They aren't in a 'had and pitched it' situation.  They are in a 'never had it, never needed it, don't want it' situation.  The difference in these two situations is our struggle.  Its hard to let go.

He generously skips contrasting their lifestyle to Americans, and instead just shows data to declare how most of us live, citing mass data research done by the United Nations, and other sources of census on planetary stability.  Mathematicians became involved and helped create formulas for calculating usage such as Ecological Impact of various goods, and Carbon Footprinting.  I encourage you to learn more about these studies by <clicking here> and to calculate your own usage by <clicking here>

Findings have shown that the United States, my home nation, is exponentially higher than most in consumption of natural resources, and that if everyone on the planet shared our lavish lifestyle, we'd all be extinct by now.  Earth's abundance is finite if not replenished at or above the rate of consumption.  Some humans like Americans consume more than we are able to replenish.  The only answer to this is to find ways to reduce.  It is physically impossible to grow more/extract more because we'd exceed the available land space.

Why minimalism?  There are many reasons.  Personal freedom, expansion of choices, financial savings, and some even do it for style.  I struggle to find one so noble, meaningful, or obvious as this:  it is up to us to preserve our own life on our only planet.  And minimalism is a great way to reduce our personal carbon footprint.

Below are a 9 fun statistics taken by other recent, and more specific, census studies.

1. The average size of the American home has nearly tripled in size over the past 50 years. -National Public Radio

2. 25% of people with two-car garages don’t have room to park cars inside them and 32% only have room for one vehicle.  -U.S. Department of Energy

3. British research found that the average 10-year-old owns 238 toys but plays with just 12 daily.  -The Telegraph

4. The average American owns 30 outfits, which is triple what it was in 1930.  -Forbes

5. Nearly half of American households don’t grow a savings account.  -Business Insider

6. Some reports indicate we consume twice as many material goods today as we did 50 years ago.  -The Story of Stuff

7. Americans spend more on shoes, jewelry, and watches ($100 billion) than on higher education  -Psychology Today

8. Over the course of our lifetime, we will spend a total of 3,680 hours or 153 days searching for misplaced items.The research found we lose up to nine items every day.  Phones, keys, sunglasses, and paperwork top the list.  -The Daily Mail

9. Americans spend $1.2 trillion annually on nonessential goods.  -The Wall Street Journal

The overwhelming sentiment is that everything is more expensive while wages have flat-lined, and that the biggest baddest CEO's are all lining their pockets.  And, of course, there is some undeniable truth to that.

However interest rates are still nearly as low as they have ever been.  So while communications costs are up, education costs are up, and incomes feel like they suck, part of our financial challenge can be faced in the here and now of our daily choices.  Because, frankly, our own restraint has been neglected for decades.  For some of us things are already so tight that it feels like nothing can be cut.  I encourage everyone to try, regardless of your situation.  The fascinating people Jim Merkel wrote about are quite happy with even less, I promise.

By living more simply, we live more sustainable with ourselves, as well as our planet, and this earth is still our only home.

Because it's there!

When a New York Times reporter asked George Mallory why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, he infamously responded very simply, "Because it's there."

This enigmatic quote has been repeated by many for nearly a hundred years, and people are still enamored by it.  What is most compelling about this is nobody knows what was truly in George Mallory's heart but George Mallory.  What else is compelling about this is that climbing the big Himalayan peaks is infamously a death sentence.  And though some have reached the top, and lived, that danger is still inherent today.

In the early days of mountaineering Everest, when Mallory was being questioned, death was a mathematical certainty.  Sherpas call her Chomolungma, meaning 'goddess mother of the earth'.

Most importantly, the reporter wasn't asking him, "How will you climb Everest?"  He was asking "Why?", which to me meant, "What powerful force is driving you to want to spend a year preparing, weeks acclimating to prevent altitude sickness, just to risk life and death, only to get to the top of this geographic monstrosity?"

There's no riches.  There's no answers.  There's just the top and nothing more.   And the task is so formidable, that perhaps nobody would ever ask  Mallory another question as long as he lives.  So Why?

At least 290 people have died climbing Everest.  The last year that there were no known deaths was 1977.  In 1996 the death toll was 12 that died in just a matter of hours.

George Mallory was one who did not return.  He died on June 8, 1924, doing exactly what he wanted to do.  Most of us will die, alone, regretting things we never did.  So, climbers don't cry for the deceased.  Instead, they recite his infamous quote, and they do what they love to do. 

There is a big list of available mountaineering tools.  Primarily there is the map, and compass.  Then there is some clothing.  Add to that all the different footwear and accessories, the trekking poles, and ice axes, packs, straps, ropes, caribiners, maybe oxygen.

This is the kind of technical consideration a person would need to calculate when answering the how of mountaineering.  An ambitious climber might choose a different route.  Each mountain will have unique weather.  However their plans are drawn out, they carry as little as they need.

Such is the life of a minimalist.  Minimalists live deliberately.  We choose what we need to be who we want to be, and to do what we want to do.  And, we intentionally don't carry things we don't need on our journey.

People often ask how to live minimally.  How is incidental.  How can be determined by climate.  How can vary between different people coming from different scenarios, and striving for different goals.  How will come after.

First ask why.  Then ask what and where and when?  After those are figured and calculated, do you know who will best answer the how question?  You will.  Because it's there.

**Protip:  Where and when should begin here and now.

You are not alone.  Guidance and tools are available from minimalists, entrepreneurs, coaches, all over the world.  I have a few tools.  So do so many others.  To go back to the mountaineering metaphor, you wouldn't make Chomolunga your first mountain; you'd start smaller, requiring no more than some decent shoes and an adventurous spirit.  Trial and error will be your best teacher.  You'll know which tools best suit you when you start to see your design.

Win Some Lose Some: A Short Story

In Minnesota, loyalists shop at Target, because Target is Minnesotan, and also, because WalMart sucks.  The last time I walked into a WalMart, I was concerned I was going to get some of it on me, and that it might spread  like an infection.  It also made me think that it might make smell bad.  Rotten eggs have a distinct smell, and color.  Its not white anymore, or even yellow, but it might not be gray either.  Its sort of all of those together.  That's the color of WalMart.  The florescent lights shine down on the linoleum floor stained with that same yellowish-gray rotten egg look that only comes from the trampling of fabulous WalMart traffic.  Target has the same color, they just distract me with the bright red and the occasional carpet, which I appreciate.

I had just gotten paid, and in my case that's significant.  My paychecks are commission based, so in essence my bank account appears either totally broke, or rich for a day, depending on what day it is.  So, I went to Target to improve my life, and make my efforts at home feel more meaningful.  When a person goes to Target, they have an agenda, and a dream.  Sometimes they leave with both; in really big white bags.  There are geniuses in their corporate offices laughing about this, I'm sure.   I walk past aisle after aisle of cleaning supplies, looking for just the right aisle.  I'm seeking the one with the drain declogging agents.  Its after the toilet paper aisle, and after the paper towel aisle, and mind you, those are two consecutive, and completely separate aisles.  For a moment I notice these flashes of bright blue, red, and glowing flesh, bouncing off my retina from gigantic, and perfect flat screen televisions, over three hundred feet away.  It's the electronics section.  Three forceful and distinct times I consciously tried to focus on the red sale prices of the end caps on my right, before I realize the images are from a favorite film.  I fight it because I'm on an important mission, and can't afford this distraction.

Ah, my aisle,  scanning, scanning.  2/3 the way down, second shelve from the bottom, I find them.  They have 8 different brands of drain declogging fluids.  My sink is not a frequent problem, so I'm not professionally versed in which chemicals are most effective at breaking down my hair-soap-food-and-whatever sludge that's apparently solidified into a cork, so I read.  It's boring.   And gross.  And boring.  Tom Hanks' voice appears in my head for some reason, mostly likely because he'd probably be able to make this situation a lot more palatable if he were scripting it with me in real life.  I play the eenie-meenie game and choose the one in my left hand, and head straight for the electronics.  Dreading the slippery, stink, I'm probably going to be fishing out when I get home, I consider a well deserved treat.  And I just know Tom's wit is waiting for me just a few more aisles away, near the soft glowing perfection, still dancing on my retina.

I casually stroll the new releases, occasionally glancing at the 12 monstrous, and synchronized screens, and chuckle quietly to myself.  I hold a copy of the new Wonder Woman release, and try to justify the 29 dollars it requires to own it forever.  Reason comes over me, and guides me to the older releases, and then to the 5 dollar overstock.  I know that with patience a little time will devalue that epic heroine of mine.  I had set the declogging agent down somewhere a few feet away, and went back to pick it up.  I see Mr. Hanks.  Tom is looking at me from the bottom shelf, grinning permanently from the cover of "the Burbs".  I smile back because its Tom, and also because I probably already have that one at home, so we're kind of like friends, or maybe even family at this point.  I don't know.  I see a child with her mother walk past with a copy of Wonder Woman, and guilt starts to come over me.  I passed up on the most significant film by women in history, and my lifelong heroine, for a discount.  I discount because I shouldn't be buying any more movies to begin with.  Tom Hanks isn't even my friend and I'm still thinking about his wit in this situation.  I can imagine him peeking around the corner and nibbling on a baby corn as 12 year old from Big, or jumping out and dancing in that ridiculous pumpkin-pimp outfit, freeze, and bark at me, "Any Questions??"  I take my sludge chemicals and my leave, in a near huff.  Screw you, David S. Pumpkins.  You won't draw me in today.

What did she say she needed again?  Oh yes.  The household section.  That's past the clothing, and the baby furniture, just before the stemware and crock-pots.   Basically, I need to do a full loop through the whole store.  This is another Target miracle, or trick.  If you need two items, rest assured, the stock people predicted your needs to perfection just yesterday, and they worked all through the night to arrange the store in such a way that your two items are on opposite ends.  They are that ruthless.  I pause a moment.  Tools.  Let's just have a look.  There's always something missing at the house.  What did we need last time we tried to fix something?  Hmmmmm.  My stroll is slow, confident, and casual.  I'm just taking stock of their inventory is all.  I wrap around the rear endcap, and continue up the second aisle.  Another man is there, crouched, touching a hammer.  He takes a partial practice swing.  Silently, I judge him, "you don't buy your hammer here."  My scoff is nearly audible.  Its certainly visible, so I hope he wasn't giving me sideeye as I pass him.  Nevertheless, my confidence abides.  This place is for 3:1 oil, or air freshener, not real tools.  My pace quickens and I leave the Target tool section.

Did you know that Target makes their own wine???

Anyway, I am off to get that thing.  What did she want again?  Oh yes.  Lightbulbs.  For a moment, I consider new drawer hardware, handles, and pulls, and things, because I remember she said she doesn't like the ones that came with the house, and it would be a nice surprise.  But I decide to wait.  There are at least four other things in this section that create the same thought process of maybes, whatifs, betternots, and I almost forget the lightbulbs.  Almost, until of I see them of course.  I nearly run to them to avoid further distraction.  The wattages, the efficiency levels; they're even more confusing than the 20 or so various chemicals listed on my sludge declogger.  But I know they need to match so I inhale deeply, slowly and try to focus my energy on our light situation.   I got it!  I'm up.  I'm successful, and I can get out of here without wasting the whole paycheck.  I have beaten back Target's barrage of manipulative arsenal, and located my targets, extracted them from the enemy lines, and I'm going to get out alive.

Heading back toward checkout, completing my loop, a sign hovering over a tucked away nook of the store caught my attention.  It just reads "Meaningful".  I try not to get curious, but I've never seen this section, and there are so many happy human faces leaving that area.  There are photos on the wall of very clean, successful, and joyful people.  They're in the sunshine, with plants and flowers, and gazing at one another.  And why don't I even know what this meaningful section is?  Or when they installed it.  Or just how long I've been missing out on the real gem of this home grown store.  I clutch my two items tightly with each hand, so that there's no room to grasp for more.  No risk of misplacement.  I hold them with the intent of not touching anything.  I will not touch.  I'm just going to look.  One of the oversized photos of the beautiful people, twirling in nature is staring at me, with a quote.  Welcome to your meaningful life!  I couldn't help it.  I thought, partially outloud, "you really can buy everything here".  I pondered sincerely and smiling until I rounded the corner.
It was just the photo printing section with a new dazzling face.

Disgruntled, and still thinking about Gal Gadot, and her frustration at a persistent war, and her furious love, I went back to electronics.  I bought Wonder Woman.  I checked out.  I won.  I lost.  And then I returned home, watched Wonder Woman, and I cried during No Man's Land for the 6th time.  One of these days, I'll be as strong as her, and beat back the Target army of consumerism.  But not today.  Today is for Wonder Woman and she's worth every goddamn penny.