Minimalism and Under-consumption in Magic
by Kristen Gregory
They say that everyone should move house once every five years or so, because it keeps you on your toes, especially in the realm of decluttering. I just moved house twice in twelve months, and suffice to say that I’ve emerged on the other side as something of a minimalist. I’d started that journey a while ago, of course, but the rapid acceleration brought on by an exhausting year makes me think I’ve finally arrived.
I think the biggest thing people miss with minimalism is that it’s part of the journey, and that journey is one of intentionality. It’s no use just deciding to declutter without setting a goal; no point in deciding what to keep without setting a limit. The other big mistake is, of course, mistaking minimalism for owning nothing and living like an ascetic. It’s not.
Case in point: I love physical media. I love not having to download things, relying on an internet connection or DRM to arbitrarily decide if I am allowed to own something I’ve paid for. I love being able to be inspired by the things around me, and be reminded of what’s important in my life. Hell – some things I own just because they look cool.
I also adore having these little windows into my personality, invitingly displayed on a shelf. They sit, awaiting someone to visit and pass an innocent comment or question that gives me that heady hit of validation: someone sees me. Until I realized that each memento, each trinket, and each object I owned was an extension of preservation of the self – with little bits of my soul tethered to each of them – I wasn’t ready to do minimalism. Moving house was just the pressure I needed to perform.