I often reflect on the act of kindness when working with clients. When I step into someone’s home, their sacred space, my first task is to ensure they feel kindness emanating from me.  

Do you still have stuff at your parent’s house? Maybe it’s time to rethink that strategy.

Gross things invade our stuff when we’re not looking. From creepy crawlies, to dust and mold, our possessions are not as protected as we imagine. The seldom touched tend to suffer the most. Areas that easily succumb to flooding are a close second.

The tricky thing about wallpaper is that regardless of it’s color and pattern, we see it but, over time, cease to notice it. The same way you can hear something but not truly listen to it. Wallpaper can blanket the walls but disappears the second we blink our eyes.

In Part 1, I recounted why I purchased a bike and the fear I overcame in the process. The how was tricky too. I wanted to buy a used bike, both for the cost savings and because, typically, reuse is better than purchasing new from a sustainability standpoint.

When I was a kid, my brother and sister and I rode around our street and parts of the neighborhood on our bikes. It was childhood fun, until it wasn’t. When riding down a large hill next to the nearby lake, I fell and crashed and my bike was destroyed. A wheel over here, a handle bar over there. I wasn’t injured; only a few scrapes.

The proliferation of listicles and tips and hacks make me question the prominence of the easy way out. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t like to waste time on areas of life that aren’t important. For some problems, a small bump in strategy is all that’s needed.

What I’ve wanted most in life is freedom. Freedom is so important to me because it is me. Freedom is the ability to be who I am, do what I want, and experience life through my values. I know that no matter what happens, the one thing I will always have is me.

Your home and all the items in it may represent the person you used to be, you think you should be, you wish to be, you want others to see, or all of the above. We allow this misidentification through our stuff or allow our stuff to meld with our identity.

The name of my company, Less Equals More, was the three-worded vehicle most apt to describe how less material items and unnecessary activities can help us get to whatever “more” we are looking to achieve: more time, more freedom, more meaning.

Why do you make each decision you make, from the tiny ones to the big ones? Do you find yourself on decision-making autopilot where the why behind your choices is cloudy? Do you make choices because you’ve always made them or because everyone else does, and you didn’t realize there was another way?

Your office, parent’s or friend’s home, your car(s), storage unit, a second home- these are the hiding places. You have many mechanisms of possession distribution which makes it easier to not quite identify all the stuff you have to your name.

Comfort is the soft and cuddly throw blanket. It’s the hat you wear everyday or your favorite hoodie. It’s warm soup your mother used to make. It’s the routine you don’t desire to disturb.

The minimalist approach creates a thoughtful balance around what is worth care and concern. My method is meaningful minimalism: finding what provides you with meaning and forgetting about the rest, choosing just the stuff that supports your goals and priorities, and letting the space that remains highlight the few things of meaning.

I hate to be a downer. After all, I engage in a downsized, simplified, and organized life because of its positive and joyful benefits. Most strategies I employ to reduce my impact on the environment are things I like to do and have other benefits (like being healthier for me too).

A warning bell goes off in my mind when surveying a new client’s space: Oh no! So many surfaces! 

It’s funny how little we exert control over what comes into our homes. From accepting all gifts (whether desired or not), hand-me-downs out of guilt, freebies that flood in, and unwanted mail, much of what we have wasn’t invited. It’s like our homes need their own bouncers just to manage the influx of stuff.

Personal evolution happens at a much faster pace than ecological evolution, as the not-so-fossil remains of our past hobbies, relationships, and career changes serve as evidence. The overabundance of stuff in our homes is a symptom of not addressing or recognizing the changes in our lives.

As someone who tends not to buy things, advertising and marketing are far from my mind’s eye most of time. But occasionally I’ll come across a clever marketing ethos that is just so good I can’t help but integrate it into my lifestyle.

Couples, whether new or long-time committed, have a bevy of things to disagree on, fight about, or be annoyed by. How much stuff they have, what the stuff is, and how it’s organized (or not), is a common topic of such discomforts.