Whenever I go on vacation for more than a day, or spend time in raw, beautiful nature, I’m blown away by the simplest of things.
The delicate beauty of a flower, the endlessness of the ocean, the potential in sprawling fields, and the sheer abundance of nature. This awe and beauty always far surpasses any package that could ever arrive on my doorstep.
Just days ago, I was standing with my husband overlooking Mablethorpe beach feeling all of those things and more. Despite it being mid-summer here in the UK, it was raining all day and felt more like autumn. We’d just arrived the day before and were grateful for the chance to stretch our stiff legs – just the two of us (our two kids were happy at their grandparents’ house).
Even though there were amusements, donuts, and all kinds of temptations to explore in the main town, we stood at the railings watching the sea for at least fifteen minutes. Rain sprayed our wind-battered faces and our hoods kept blowing down, but we didn’t care.
“This is cosy and peaceful”, Leighton said. And I couldn’t agree more. Nothing else mattered in that moment. It was just us, the empty beach, and the restless, never-ending ocean. I felt smaller in those fifteen minutes than I’d ever felt. My human responsibilities and worries felt non-existent.
That evening I had a shower, and as I reflected on my day, I realised that something major had shifted inside me.
That something was the understanding of the reason why I sometimes fall prey to restlessness and buying shiny new objects (even though it doesn’t align with my values or satisfy).
I have been pushing down the wanderlust that minimalism revealed to me in the first place!
So I thought that instead of buying more stuff or maintaining what I’ve chosen to keep in the past, I will pare down even more and put some of my money towards travel. Towards learning and absorbing more of this world we’re on for such a limited time.
Some time ago, I did an experiment which I called the ‘extreme-ish minimalism experiment’. I put everything I could possibly live without up into the attic and tried living with mainly the basics (apart from my game consoles because one of my passions in life is gaming).
The results were eye-opening.
Despite the name of my experiment, I don’t believe that extreme minimalism is extreme at all. We’ve just been conditioned since the moment we came into the world to want more, more, more. To consume more than our fair share and to climb the ladder until we’re so high up we can’t see the way back. Until we can’t see any other way.
But there’s always another way. Even if that way seems more difficult at first.
Choosing to explore off the beaten path and living differently to most people almost always gets some kind of backlash from those close to you. Some might make fun of you and try to talk you into living the way you were before. Sometimes, they may come across as being worried about you. In reality, it’s often a fearful response to change or having their own beliefs challenged.
Be kind but stay true.
Their responses are always a reflection of their own anxieties and beliefs. They may feel threatened by who you are becoming, or confused that you’re changing. That’s okay because it’s where they are personally. It is their life journey that’s nobody else’s to judge (although I understand how difficult that can be at times).
We’re all on our own path, and it’s important to follow your own internal compass. You can’t do that, however, when you’re surrounded by noise and drowning in clutter and obligations.
So pare down to the important stuff and let go of the rest.
By living the path that feels true to you, you will eventually attract like-minded people who feel drawn to or inspired by your journey. While you can never tell somebody else how to live, or live someone else’s life for them, you can be a beacon.