“One of the advantages of being born in an affluent society is that if one has any intelligence at all, one will realize that having more and more won’t solve the problem, and happiness does not lie in possessions, or even relationships: The answer lies within ourselves. If we can’t find peace and happiness there, it’s not going to come from the outside.”-Tenzin Palmo

I find the idea of minimalism intriguing. Something about not having a bunch of material possessions has always seemed quite nice and an easy load to carry. I mostly don't collect many things, and in my life, have intentionally let go of more than I have gained. Still, there have been phases in my life where before I would know, I would end up with more than enough boxes of completely superficial and irrelevant things. And then, I would let them go, only to repeat the cycle throughout my life. Why, if I appreciate simplicity so much, that I end up living against the principle, over and over? I have been thinking about this recently, and being amidst another holiday season full-fledge, it seems like a good time to revisit.

One of my earliest memories is of my cool uncle. He was younger than the rest, had a beautiful wife, and was really nice to be around. At a dinner party once, he mentioned that he appreciated quality over quantity. He said that he didn't particularly care to have a lot of things, but there were some stuff that he liked (good furniture being one of those), and that he would gladly pay up if that meant that his stuff was of the best quality. For some reason, that really connected with my 7 year old self (evidenced by me remembering this still), and as I have grown up, I have been known for splurging on things that I appreciate (primarily climbing gear, winter wear, and photography equipment). Still, I don't have a lot of stuff and can fit most of my possessions in a couple of boxes, so all things considered, I consider myself minimal.

So, it was a surprise realization that minimalism was a fairly novel idea when I stumbled upon a documentary around Thanksgiving 2016. At the time, I had been working for a few years, and for the first time in a long while, had started to put down some sort of roots. I had a quaint studio in Oakland, was in a newly blossoming relationship, and was planning a trip somewhere warm in the new year. Life seemed good. For Thanksgiving, I had come down to see my parents in Los Angeles. We were talking about Black Friday, and my mother really wanted a big television to entertain the guests (my folks love to host). We hadn't experienced a very comfortable lifestyle since being in the States, and now that someone in the family had a bit of a disposable income, we could talk about buying things that up until then was considered a luxury. While that was completely alright, I noticed being frustrated by how little of our conversations in the few days that I was there revolved around spending time together and how much of it revolved around timing the doorbuster deals. I knew that every member of my family had different struggles and that it was always hard for us to openly share with each other. It bothered me that we had an easier time talking about shopping for things and other surface level conversation fodders and avoided sharing deeper, intimate emotions. I had a family, but I felt closer to others.

During that week, I ended up watching a documentary about minimalism. It was about two guys, one of whom was coming out of a divorce and realized how many meaningless things he had accumulated over his life. He reconnected with one of his older friends, who had been living minimally, and it led to a profound experience that then enabled these two men to travel around the world and share with others about the importance of living simply. That was my first exposure to a concept that I had been silently living up until then. After finishing the doc, I went down a rabbit hole of related articles, podcasts, videos, and other media. Through this, I understood a few things. I understood that minimalism is not just about owning less. It is about not collecting just for the sake of collecting. It is about not giving into the dopamine hits that arise from having a new phone, a new TV, or a new car. It is about creating an outer expanse through less mindless consumption, so there is space to look and feel inwards and understand what lies deep within ourselves. Here, I connected precious moments of my life and realized that the happiest moments in my life were never about the things I had, but more about who I was with or the experiences that I was a part of. Happiness did not coming from traveling in India as kid; it came from being in a foreign land with my family for the first time. Joy did not happen from living in a big house as a child; it happened because I was around people who cared for me and who I cared for. Recently, the most content I had been was during my silent meditation retreat, sleeping on a hard bed, waking up at 4 in the morning, and eating simple but fresh food; not when I had bought the new car, the Canon 5D Mark III (best camera at the time), or a bunch of succulents for my studio. The material possessions were never there for my satisfaction; they were just mediums for me to experience the beautiful emotions of life.

Since familiarizing myself with the concept, I have actively tried to live a simple life. And through that, another realization has hit me. Which is that unless one is actively conscious, it can be really hard in our modern society to live simply. All around us, we are constantly being bombarded with things fighting for our attention. And in a capitalist society, things that require our attention mostly always will end up with us giving something beyond our attention, in return. From television to social media, there are advertisements everywhere. Social media especially, with a constant pulse of awareness around our wishes, can transform our deepest emotions into problems to be solved by paid products. If you are depressed, you can buy a monthly subscription to talk to a therapist. If you want your skin to look clearer, you can buy products that have been "customized for optimal tuning". And, if you want to date someone, there is Tinder and Bumble, with tiered pricing based upon how often you want to be seen and highlighted. It has gotten very easy to solve problems as long one has the financial capability. However, the truth is, these ideas rarely work. A therapist can only do so much. A product that has been "customized for optimal tuning" very rarely is. And, if one has to pay to be loved, is that really love? In one of my older posts, I mentioned that life is a single player game, and one can't simply buy his or her way to freedom in the game.

For me, I have found that it is when I get complacent with my life, I start collecting things. When I am in love, I buy things to make my lover appreciate me more. When I am stressed, I compulsively shop during my 12 hour workdays. When I am sad, I cope with drugs or other forms of escapism. And although I tell myself that I am doing it for some good reason, subconsciously, I know that I am consuming in search of something to heal me. But, in the process of consuming, I lose the thing that could heal me. Which is just being there, in full nakedness of the moment, experiencing it. Buying things for my partner will not get me the love I want; giving her my full attention will. Reprieve from stress does not come from buying a drone at 2 in the morning, or planning a vacation somewhere else; it might come from getting a good night's rest. Drugs and other things won't break me out of my funk permanently; only me doing inner work will. As I mentioned earlier, the possessions are never the destination for contentment, although they may seem like it. And when they fail, which inevitably they will, we look for more and more and more possessions, hoping that one of them will be the cure.

Unfortunately, we look for medicine in the wrong places. Accumulating will never give the joy that we search for. And although most of us know that by heart, accumulating is an easier bypass than actually having to be in the void, especially when everything seems programmed for us to collect. So, we collect.

We don't have to.