On Psychological Minimalism by Linda Quennec (Associate Counsellor)
Photo Credit: Sixteen Miles Out
Minimalism has been a dominant topic in internet spaces over the last few years, most often translated as a design aesthetic and in the contexts of our physical homes and the items that populate them, as well as our wardrobes and the clothing we own. There are numerous books, articles, and websites dedicated to decluttering, feng shui, and curating capsule wardrobes. The authors of these employ strategies and techniques that are intended toward the goal of living a more mindful, clutter-free life. Their audiences are certainly among the most privileged.
Given the impact of unfettered consumerism and its toll on our planet, this seems to be a good turn. Many of those who have given minimalism a try report feeling a better sense of alignment in doing their part to conserve resources and protect our natural world. Many also express increased relaxation, clarity of mind, and feeling in control of their surroundings. They notice an understanding of how little we truly need in terms of possessions, beyond the essentials. Having stripped away most of what has come to be seen as superfluous, their minds are better able to turn toward what truly does matter, and as we all probably understand on some level, these are not usually material things. It’s a bit of a mind-boggle that we are even in such a place of acquisition and affluence, but that is a topic for another article.
Swept up in the wave of minimalism that accompanied Marie Kondo’s 2010 release of The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up, I too set out at that time as a graduate student and mother of young twins to declutter my home and life, with lofty ambitions of consistent and enduring serenity amid the rapidly accumulating clutter of art projects, toys, crafts, and gifts. Despite my usual habit of hurling myself 1000 percent into any new commitment, I soon discovered that this process is not for the faint of heart, especially if you have other people living with you, and if you have been caught up in the consumer narrative for a very long time. Before eventually giving up, my efforts took me as far as my sock drawer, which to this day remains an amazing, well-curated, and enduring space of serenity. As for the rest of my home, well, that might resemble something quite the opposite. I can certainly attest to the efficacy of Kondo’s approach, as bespeaks my sock drawer, but the rest of the house was daunting, and there never seemed to be enough time to dedicate to this monumental task. I would also talk myself out of letting go of certain items. For example, as a book lover, I stubbornly insisted that every one of my tomes “sparked joy.” Apparently, Kondo has addressed an outcry from book lovers to assure them that indeed it is fine to possess a lot of books if they are important to you. . . not that we needed permission.
Decluttering aside, what has become abundantly apparent throughout my varied attempts at tidying and organization is that the physical act of doing such things means very little without an accompanying psychological shift. While I did have articulated intentions at the outset of my minimalism efforts, upon further examination these were largely superficial. Basically, I wanted every item in my house to have a home, and I wanted to know where those homes were so as to avoid running around in a state of sweaty frustration and near panic during those rushed mornings when it was very important to find that one specific piece of paper. While a reasonable ambition, this was not enough of an incentive to overturn everything in my house, to the extent that no one apart from me could find anything.
I needed to dig deeper and locate some real intentions for wanting my surroundings—in actuality, my life— to be simpler.
So, I spent the next few years doing exactly not that. Still caught up in the idea that decluttering was the predominant aspect of this process, I effortlessly found many legitimate reasons not to engage in it. Minimalism as it turns out, is a psychological endeavour, not a design or organizational strategy, even though it relates to and utilizes these modalities. I have come to believe that true minimalism is actually a much deeper engagement with what matters to us, and as such, I needed to back up quite a few steps. To begin this process, it helps to do some significant digging into how we feel about our lived experience on a day-to-day and what our values are, beyond what we have inherited from those who raised us and those who surround us. Given the relatively short nature of our stay on this planet, how do we feel about the moments that comprise most of our days? Is there space to breathe, to reflect, to take in the night sky? To hear the deep wondering in our children’s questions as the world reveals itself to them in their growing years? To let all of this sink in on a visceral, somatic level?
What I am noticing in working with and parenting generations younger than myself is that there seems to be a growing desire to be more intentional about the bigger concerns in life. It is inspiring to witness a deep caring and concern for one’s impact on the world. I see in these people an engaged sense of desire to create meaningful lives in relation to themselves, the planet and to others. They seem to spend more time reflecting in a bigger way than I did at a younger age, about how they wish to spend their precious days, with deep awareness of the significant problems we face in climate change, politics, interspecies relationships and more. There is a pause to question dominant narratives and explore alternatives, a turning over of the values and ideals that simmer unconsciously in our awareness and could benefit from reconsideration.
This is of course not solely the providence of the young, but I am hoping that what I am seeing in my practice is evidence of a tidal change.
In our western culture, we still see an exaltation of busy days spent in pursuit of wealth and material gain. People with the means to do so will often fill their children’s lives with activities meant to position them for a competitive world. This is a fallacy—humans have achieved great gains not in isolation or competition with one another, but in relationship with one another and with our beautiful world. It is our unwillingness to see this that undermines all of our futures. Our species is still full of hubris and in desperate need of a paradigm shift. Without time and space to ponder and reflect, to read and explore a variety of ideas, we might soldier on, filling our lives and schedules in an obligatory manner without stopping to wonder why. From a depth psychological perspective however, there will be unconscious parts of us that rise up in protest. These may be subtle or loud, emotional or physical (or both). We often call these manifestations “symptoms,” and do our best to eradicate them instead of listening to what they might be telling us about our beliefs, thoughts, actions, and desires.
This is where the idea of minimalism extends far beyond decluttering. How do you show up in the world every day? Is there anything that feels out of alignment or integrity? How much time and space have you given over to what is actually, beneath it all, someone else’s agenda? One way in which to uncover our motivations is to first get very clear about what and who matters most to us. Do we actually want to go to that holiday event when we are feeling exhausted? Do we want to push our child through that dance class when she could use a night off just to rest and explore the world in ways that aren’t scripted by others? Coming to a sense of clarity about these kinds of things is a sound first step, but then we are soon faced with how we feel about how things have gone for us thus far. If shame arises during this process, it is important to balance it with self-compassion. We are not shameful beings at our core; most often we are the product of our surroundings and what has been assumed by the overculture as the best way to show up in the world. We always have a choice though, even when it seems otherwise, and it does take a fair amount of bravery to confront the dominant narratives around a life well lived.
As Krishnamurti wrote, “it’s no mark of good health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
As a practical example, we may want to contribute less to fast fashion, one of the most polluting industries in the world, and as a bonus, to reclaim our time by lessening the decision fatigue around getting dressed in the morning by creating a mix-and-match capsule wardrobe. Soon however, we find that this conflicts with a consumer culture ideal that promotes huge wardrobes with enormous shoe collections, one that correlates clothing with identity and shames outfit repetition. If we can work our way through these conflicts, see through the systems that promote them, and own our deeper reasons for making a change, we are more likely to succeed with our intentions because they are aligned with an integral sense of who we are and what we truly value.
When we stand solidly in understanding what matters most to us, we can better withstand the cultural winds that threaten to destabilize our intentions, and these pressures can be monumental. Herein lies a powerful energy for following through, however. We can usually understand that we’re more likely to succeed at tasks arising out of our own sources of true motivation than with those that have been externally imposed, but sometimes it is necessary to go through a process of differentiating what really does belong to us. Over the years of our lives, we unconsciously integrate societal expectations and pressures that can come to look like our own, but we need not carry these forward for our entire lives.
Swiss psychiatrist C.G. Jung called this the process of individuation, but this is far from the endeavours of the “rugged individualist.”
Individuation takes the whole into account—when we act from a place of alignment with our integrity and authenticity, with what wants to come through us and into the world, we are in service to everyone and everything, because we are acting in accordance with what is required of our truest, most contributive natures, our own unique and essential way of offering back.
During this clarification process, our values may land on time spent with loved ones, hobbies we enjoy, nutritious foods, and a calm and safe sanctuary in which to live. From this place, we can then contemplate what would feel like a meaningful, wholehearted way to exist in our day-to-day lives, in a practical sense. This might not look like what we see promoted in the overculture, and as mentioned above, we may need to take our time in differentiating what truly belongs to us and what might have been someone else’s seemingly good idea that we unconsciously adopted and integrated. In making these investigations, check in with your body. Is there a physical resonance when you consider adopting or leaving something behind? What might that tightness in the chest be attempting to say to you? Are there more than material items that need to be reconsidered in light of the way you would like to live your life, in a large-scale sense? What are the commitments that feel non-negotiable to you on a gut level?
If we are caught in the throes of a culture that is driven and encouraged to compete and consume, it is easy to turn the act of minimalism into another project for our endless to-do lists, but another way to look at this is to ask ourselves what we might be able to remove from both our schedules and our physical surroundings that will make room for what we truly do wish to invite into the spaces of our lives. The truth of the matter is that we do not have limitless time, and even if we do enjoy going out for dinner with friends, for example, if we say yes to every invitation, we may be subtracting time from something else that may only live as a semi-conscious or unconscious yearning in our psyche, something nascent that bears our attentiveness and speaks to our unique and most aligned sense of fulfilment. Folks who prioritize creative endeavours often speak of the space that is necessary in life to invite the whisperings of the muses. This is not just a romantic ideal—it is a practical truth. What truly means the most to you? Can you find moments to get quiet and check in with the parts of yourself that are rarely heard, the parts that may have skittered away in fear of non-acceptance? As Dr. Gabor Maté has observed, our lives are full of the tensions between authenticity and attachment, our most primary need.
Can we find a point of balance between the two?
When it comes to decluttering, we might ask of our physical items questions such as: “do I want to take this into the future with me?” Is there space among what matters most for this to be part of it all? If I didn’t own this now, would I spend time and money to go out and acquire it?” When we offer gifts during this holiday season, have we given thought to their capacity for enrichment? Is there an opportunity to offer an experience to our loved ones, in place of a thing? While minimalism has come to be a literal lifestyle, what does it mean on a metaphorical level?
My sister is an ardent minimalist, of standards and capacities that I could probably only hope to achieve. Watching her make changes in her own life has been inspiring to me. Because she cares about the impact of the clothing industry, she buys only from ethical Canadian companies. This decision arose out of a process of examining what matters most to her, which is the protection of our planet and the fellow beings who inhabit it. She buys less, everything is mix and match, and she experiences less decision fatigue when it comes to getting dressed in the morning. This is just one example of how getting clear about our deeper values creates a pathway to our ability to live in a more aligned, meaningful, and enjoyable way. Because we get to include joy in this life experience too.
Maybe it would be helpful to change the word “minimalism” to “intentionalism.”
As we come closer to an intentional life, we come closer to peace and joy—those things we hope for most at this time of year. May 2023 offer us continued opportunities to reclaim whatever parts of us have wandered off and need to come home. May we grow our strength and capacity to honour our inherent selves and those we share our lives with, and build meaningful, rich, wholehearted lives of intention.
