Professional minimalists don’t get enough respect
You probably think of a minimalist as cerebral, quiet, thoughtful type with glasses and soft hair.
In your pitiful imagination, you think of us as quietly contemplating the nature and design of our lives, how we can be a bit happier, a bit more in tune with our Earth and the rituals and rhythms of our lives.
Here’s an illustration of your meek minimalist archetype:
The PROBLEM with all of this is that it is not at ALL an accurate reflection of the struggle minimalists go through every day to keep their homes and cars (IF THEY HAVE CARS) free of stuff.
So, one day, you decide to become a minimalist, and you begin to quietly purge your stuff. During that day you may begin to feel like the illustration above. But soon you are deluged by scads of happy people who are convinced that you WANT STUFF. Just when you manage to freecycle your bike, someone will drop by with a new lawn mower and a matching set of potholders for the kitchen that you just had carefully removed from your house by a team of precision gnomes.
This is what it feels like.
It’s like being a tender new vegan at a family gathering of avid hunters. Only ALL THE TIME.
So to be a minimalist, you have to do two things:
1. FEND OFF THE ADVANCES OF CONSUMERISTIC CULTURE WITH STYLE AND PANACHE AND DIGNITY.
2. DESTROY YOUR STUFF ONE HAMPERFUL AT A TIME.
In other words, you must become a thing-killing machine. Like the Terminator, only instead of trying to kill robots and people, you’re trying to kill robots and STUFF.
The robots are lucky that they didn’t happen to be around at the time.