Tiny Buddha

Tag: consumerism

  • The False Comfort of Having More: Finding Peace in Living with Less

    The False Comfort of Having More: Finding Peace in Living with Less

    “Be a curator of your life. Slowly cut things out until you’re left only with what you love, with what’s necessary, with what makes you happy.” ~Leo Babauta

    As a kid, I remember begging my dad to take me to Burger King, Wendy’s, McDonalds, and any other number of fast food restaurants. Their food was okay, but that’s not the main reason I went. The toys were what beckoned me.

    Each chain offered different ones, some of which interested me more than others. The Mini Nintendos at Taco Bell? I was there. Assemble your own Inspector Gadget at McDonalds? Count me in on that Happy Meal.

    I remember gleefully jotting my Christmas lists inside the Grinch who Stole Christmas ornament-shaped notepad I’d extracted from beneath a soggy container of fries at the bottom of my Wendy’s kids’ meal bag.

    When Burger King came out with Pokemon toys, I raced on over. My goal was to get enough Poke balls to strap to every belt loop—because people in class, pedestrians sharing the street with me, and my family at home all needed to know how serious, esteemed, and accomplished of a Pokemon trainer I was.

    Meanwhile, the neglected burger and the remainder of fries glistened untouched beneath the fluorescent lights, off to the side.

    Ever since I was little, surplus brought me comfort.

    An all-in kind of girl when it came to my belongings and collections, I threw myself into the hobby of collecting and amassing—everything from Archie comics to souvenir pennies to Pepsi cans featuring photos of different Star Wars characters (which my mom hated and my cat enjoyed swatting around, only to be startled by the noise whenever they crashed against the ground).

    My room contained surplus—whether that was after a trip to the library with my mom, or from Beanie Babies scattering the floor. Bobbleheads crowded my shelves. Shot glasses that I used as cups for my dolls and stuffed animals during our play tea parties did as well.

    So did the pages of my angsty adolescent diary. One poster of Aaron Carter or a single pin-up of J.T.T. didn’t cut it for me—I had to fill the entire wall. How I managed to not feel unsettled falling asleep under the watch of so many prepubescent boy eyes still mystifies me.

    Material surplus as a child became surplus of a more abstract kind as a young adult. People, experiences, a large social circle, and nonstop activities took the place of physical objects. These grown-up versions of childhood collections served the same function my clutter once did.

    I scheduled back-to-back activities, unnerved by the thought of banking on solely one interaction to sustain me though the day. My schedule was constantly full.

    Where Does the Drive for More Come From?

    Reasons for “hoarding mentality” are numerous. I can see looking back now how surplus brought me comfort as a kid. Material excess likely allayed feelings of solitude.

    At one point I even wrote in my journal: “I believe many of us collect to fill voids. More means never going without, never living in scarcity. More confers safety. More means escaping alone-ness. If I just keep accumulating more more more, maybe at some point I can let out all this breath I’ve been holding in.”

    Our cultural climate likely also contributed. It capitalizes upon low self-worth and generalized ennui to sell the message that solutions and relief lie in consumption—consume more to fill the emptiness, may as well be their mantra.

    Additionally, I believe we create surplus when we don’t trust. We don’t trust what we have is enough. Or we don’t trust it’s good enough.

    I think about all the unfinished drafts on my computer over the years. Littering the pages were paragraphs of clumsy prose and scattered ideas, all chucked into the document and then abandoned.

    One paragraph on racial inequality. Introduction, scattered thoughts…  abandoned.

    Two paragraphs of a fiction piece on a one-night stand. Introduction, rising action… abandoned.

    I didn’t trust the voice. I didn’t trust the content. I didn’t trust the direction the piece was going in. I didn’t trust anything about it—so abandoning it felt like the comfortable, somewhat logical option.

    After fleeing it and attempting to start anew, I didn’t trust in the voice of this draft either, so I fled that one as well. Abandonment seemed the common trend, syntactically if not thematically. And over time all these abandonments, fueled by lack of trust, left surplus in its wake.

    I once compared the scatter-focused to the hyper-focused work style: More cups for the scatter-focused worker means less likelihood of failure—because if one’s not working, they can always shift focus to another. A half-finished project isn’t a failure. It just hasn’t been completed yet.

    Or think of it as putting your eggs into different baskets. You don’t want to put too much pressure on any one friend; instead, you spread your efforts onto multiple so that no one gets overwhelmed.

    It’s similar to the way some scatter-focused workers might view tasks. Dividing our attention amongst various simultaneous assignments takes pressure off any single one of them, reducing the likelihood of “botching it.” Because if one’s not working, they can always shift attention to another.

    Some of us who allow surplus into our lives may have difficulty with letting go.

    I grow attached to the things I write, for instance, even if I know they’re bad. A weak sentence, or a paragraph wherein the phrases are all jumbled together and not working in unison—even as this clunky tangle of words on the screen makes my head spin, I still fear hitting that delete button and watching my ideas vanish completely.

    I fear hitting it because even in their imperfect expression, they were still my ideas, born in a moment of generativity. I was adding something to the world, however small and insignificant, when I spawned them.

    Is Surplus Bad?

    I’m not trying to say that surplus is inherently bad; many people not only can successfully juggle multiple commitments, but likely even have to in order to stay afloat in this increasingly demanding world.

    What I am saying is that sometimes the hoarding mentality can prevent us from mindfully attending to what’s directly in front of us.

    As I came to find through my own later life experiences, “‘more” can sometimes feed disconnection.

    I once drove a Lyft passenger who, together with his wife, fostered twenty-two cats—a number he said was a “manageable amount.” He said that he didn’t think he could take in any more.

    “It’s very hard, because we want to say yes to all of them,” Jacob said, “But we’ve also got to think about how many we can realistically care for.”

    He then quipped, “Crazy cat ladies get a bad rap because they’re too idealistic. They’re in over their heads even, is what I’d say. She’s crossed the threshold from cat lover to cat addict.”

    We talked about the point at which a loving impulse turns into an addiction. About how even if the addicted person started out loving the thing they’re now addicted to, once compulsion has replaced it, love may no longer be at the center of the equation anymore.

    Jacob’s saying that he “wouldn’t be able to love fifty-six cats” resonated with me. I recalled how back when I had only one or two Pez dispensers, I really treasured them. They meant more to me. We had as close to an intimate connection as is possible for a human and a chunk of plastic to have with one another.

    The more my supply multiplied though, the less connection I felt with any single one of them.

    Looking back now, I’m just glad those Pez were inanimate objects rather than living creatures with needs and pain receptors—because they surely would have felt the sting of negligence under my care.

    ~~

    Becoming more aware of the roots of these tendencies has helped me to gradually shift them.

    The past few years I’ve slowly and steadily fengshui-ed many of the items accumulated throughout my past. The Pez dispensers were the first to go—to a customer through eBay.

    Next it was 1,050 of my 1,075 Archie comics (I kept a few as souvenirs from childhood, for nostalgic purposes). Writing I’d always found too difficult to part with, I’ve slowly recycled as well (after salvaging whichever remnants I saw some potential value in).

    I’ve sought more one-on-one interactions, careful to not plan too many in too short a period of time—both to preserve my energy and give each encounter the attention I feel it deserves.

    As minimalist Youtuber Ronald Banks said, “Minimalism is living with more of what matters by choosing to want less of what doesn’t.”

    When I do find myself starting to accumulate—be that material items or events on my social calendar— I ask myself questions now. Questions like, Am I saying yes to have one more item to add to my stash? Or because I genuinely connect and derive meaning from it?

    Are my motives extrinsic and escapist—tied more to bolstering my image or avoiding an uncomfortable emotion? Or are they intrinsic and self-actualizing—aimed toward the purpose of connecting?

    I wouldn’t say I’m a minimalist now, but I have become a bit more intentionally resistant toward what I now regard as the false comfort brought by surplus. I realize now I don’t need more things, more friends, more projects, more commitments. I just need to recognize when I’m trying to fill a void and instead focus more on the things I value most.

  • The More of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own (Giveaway!)

    The More of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own (Giveaway!)

    Simple Living

    UPDATE – The winners for this giveaway are:

    • CA Los
    • Joy Nicholson

    When I think of minimalism, I think of two things: freedom and Joshua Becker’s blog, Becoming Minimalist.

    I think of freedom because downsizing has enabled me to afford more experiences with people I love, travel more often, and do it all without the burden of storing and maintaining possessions I don’t really need.

    I think of Joshua Becker’s blog because I’ve turned to it many times over the years for insights and tips to help me simplify and declutter.

    For this reason, I was thrilled when Joshua reached out to me to share his latest book, The More Of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own.

    Currently a bestseller on Amazon, The More of Less explores how our stuff can hold us back from pursuing our dreams, and how getting rid of things we only think we want creates space for what we actually need.

    With personal stories and practical advice, The More of Less is the perfect guidebook to help anyone escape the trap and stress of consumerism.

    I’m grateful that Joshua took the time to answer some questions about his work and his book, and that he’s offered two free copies for Tiny Buddha readers.

    The More of LessTHE GIVEAWAY

    To enter to win one of two free copies of The More of Less:

    • Leave a comment below
    • For an extra entry, share this interview on Twitter or Facebook, and post a second comment with the link

    You can enter until midnight PST on Wednesday, May 18th.

    THE INTERVIEW

    1. Tell us a little about yourself and what inspired you to write this book.

    Eight years ago, after spending an entire Saturday cleaning my garage while my son played alone in the backyard, I made a life-changing realization: Everything I owned wasn’t making me happy.

    Even worse, everything I owned was actually distracting me from the very things that did bring me joy. So my wife and I began a journey to remove the nonessential possessions from our home and life.

    We discovered the first step to crafting the life you want is to get rid of everything you don’t.  That is the message of the book.

    2. Many people equate minimalism with deprivation—possessing the bare minimum and forgoing all luxuries. What does minimalism mean to you?

    Minimalism is not about deprivation; it’s about liberation. It’s less about the things you remove and more about the things you add.

    In the book, I define it this way, “Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of anything that distracts us from it.”

    With that definition and understanding, minimalism becomes entirely freeing. Everybody is going to pursue it differently because everybody defines their values differently.

    3. What do you think are the top benefits of a minimalist lifestyle?

    There are countless benefits to owning less: more time, more money, more freedom, more energy, less stress, less worry, less distraction.

    We become better examples for our kids and better stewards of our environment.

    We quickly discover contentment, gratitude, and margin for generosity.

    Minimalism frees us to better pursue our greatest passions.

    4. Why do you think so many of us get ourselves into debt buying things we don’t need when it ultimately causes so much stress?

    There are reasons both internal and external. But no conversation on the causes of rampant consumerism in our society is complete without considering the effect that media and advertisements have on us.

    According to statistics, we see 5,000 ads every day. And every single advertisement carries the same message, “You’ll be happier if you buy whatever we’re selling.” And I think, because we see this message so many times and from so many places, we begin to believe it without even realizing we do.

    5. Is there anything that can help us resist the urge to over-consume in that moment when we might look to a physical thing to fill a psychological need?

    I think there are a number of ways to overcome consumerism in our lives. As we begin to purposefully own less and recognize the benefits of it, we become more aware of consumerism’s empty promises—that more doesn’t equal better—and we are more equipped to overcome those temptations.

    Others have found great success in establishing a two-day or three-day wait period before making purchases. That time away from the emotion of the purchase allows them to think deeper about the purchase.

    6. As someone who tries to keep clutter down, I’ve struggled when it comes to items with sentimental value, like childhood journals and photo albums. How do you recommend dealing with items like these when downsizing?

    There are definitely some tips and tricks for each of these items. It usually comes down to one important realization: “Less is different than none. And less is better than more.”

    For example, sentimental items. I wouldn’t encourage anyone to remove every piece of sentimentality from their lives. But people would benefit from sorting through their sentimental pieces and keeping only the most meaningful.

    Oftentimes, those who are the most sentimental have accumulated so many things over the years, the pieces are merely stored in boxes in the attic—bringing value to no one.

    Working through those items, perhaps trying to cut their collection in half, brings more value to the memories because the most important pieces are not buried underneath piles of unnecessary things.

    7. Many of us reserve de-cluttering for specific times of year—during Spring Cleaning, for example—but then clutter builds back up again. What are the top habits we can adopt to maintain a clutter-free (or less cluttered) environment?

    That is great insight Lori! For most families, stuff enters the home every single day (especially when kids are present). When we only declutter around certain times of the year, things begin to pile on top of each other—usually leading to frustration and a breaking point.

    It’s helpful to remember if you live in a home where things consistently enter, that you’ll need to consistently be removing things.

    Walk around your home and begin to notice the various “clutter hot spots” where things start to pile up first (kitchen counters, desks, bedroom dressers). Work hard to keep those areas clutter-free and they will set an environment for the entire home.

    8. Do you have any advice for someone who’d like to reap the benefits of minimalism, but shares space with a partner or others who aren’t on board?

    It’s always easy to see everyone else’s clutter than it is to see our own. It’s important to start with that realization.

    Additionally, I’ve become convinced over the years that the best thing we can do is lead by example, offer patience, and engage in constructive conversation (not conversations born from frustration or impatience).

    Focus on the benefits and the positive changes that could come from it. Remember, the simplifying conversation is really not one conversation at all. It’s almost always many conversations.

    9. With so many companies marketing varied products to kids, and so many parents buying them, how can we introduce minimalism to children without making them feel deprived or left out?

    Your young children have probably never heard of minimalism, much less thought about it in any depth. So begin by describing minimalism in simple terms.

    Explain why you and your spouse are choosing to embrace a lifestyle of less, as well as the benefits you are hoping your family will receive from it.

    Kids are often much smarter than we give them credit for. Yours will soon realize that you’re not punishing them; you’re doing this because you love them.

    10. What’s the main message you hope readers take away from your book?

    I want people to realize that their lives are too valuable to waste chasing and accumulating material possessions.

    I want people to know they were designed to accomplish more significant things than filling a big house with a lot of stuff.

    And I want them to realize that all the stuff they own is actually keeping them from fulfilling their biggest dreams.

    FTC Disclosure: I receive complimentary books for reviews and interviews on tinybuddha.com, but I am not compensated for writing or obligated to write anything specific. I am an Amazon affiliate, meaning I earn a percentage of all books purchased through the links I provide on this site.  

    You can learn more about The More of Less or grab a copy on Amazon here.

  • Gaining Freedom from Our Obsession with Possessions

    Gaining Freedom from Our Obsession with Possessions

    Smiling Woman

    “How pointless life could be, what a foolish business of inventing things to love, just so you could dread losing them.” ~Barbara Kingsolver

    Approximately one month after graduating from a privileged institution on the East Coast, I was standing knee deep in rainforest on the Big Island of Hawaii cutting weeds with a small kama.

    Here I was, with a brand new Master’s degree in Education Policy, genuinely confused as to whether I was cutting the right plant because my entire life before that had been about sitting on the computer doing mind work.

    Despite my lack of experience, the humidity, and the mosquitos that just wouldn’t quit, I still remember thinking to myself, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

    My goal, like so many others who choose to go to graduate school, was to finish my program in a specialized field and get a higher paying job with the prospect of moving up the proverbial ladder.

    I needed a higher paying job to pay not only my bills, but also to maintain all my possessions, which I identified with so strongly.

    In an increasingly globalized and interconnected world, countless corporations and advertisers work hand in hand to convince us of our inherent need to possess possessions, and they deliver the message that our worth can be counted by the quantity and price tag of our material belongings.

    Catchy songs and slogans, promises of happiness in a bottle, and endless portrayals of a “better” life inundate us the minute we turn on the television or step outside our house to work for a paycheck that seems to slip through our fingers as we buy more and more without ever feeling as if we have enough.

    Like countless others, I bought into this harmful ideal and spent the summer of 2013 feeling as if I was drowning in debt.

    My credit card was maxed out, I had quit my job because I disagreed with the politics, and the only job I could manage to find was part-time and barely paid more than minimum wage.

    When I started my graduate program I thought to myself that if this degree didn’t help me find a well-paying job, I was a failure.

    Well, I didn’t end up finding a job after graduation, and in August 2014, I decided that if I was going to be jobless I might as well be jobless in a beautiful setting.

    With a few thousand dollars in my savings account, a one-way ticket, and a single suitcase, I went to a donation only ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat on the Big Island of Hawaii.

    Looking back on my trek across three beautiful islands in Hawaii, (the Big Island, Maui, and Kauai), I realized that my time spent in silent meditation at the beginning was necessary.

    It was the first time since I started kindergarten at age five that I didn’t go to school and/or work in pursuit of “the good life” that had been marketed to me for as long as I can remember.

    Among people from all over the world and all walks of life, I ate simple vegetarian meals, slept in a borrowed tent, and gave up any possible distractions including all electronics, books, and writing materials.

    It was the single hardest challenge I have yet to undertake, and there were moments of such intense misery that I seriously considered asking for my things and returning home before completion.

    With absolutely nothing to entertain me, I found myself reading and rereading a pamphlet I didn’t realize I had from the plane, and watching a group of turkeys for over an hour as they did nothing more than go along with their daily lives.

    I realized in tears after a profound meditation that I’d maxed out my credit card because I was trying to fill a void in the midst of an emotionally toxic relationship and I was disenchanted with a job that I had once thought of as perfect for me.

    I emerged from the retreat with a better sense of who I was and the resolution to live as simply and sustainably as possible.

    On the Big Island I volunteered at an aspiring eco-hostel where I slept on an old school bus that had been cleared of its seats and replaced with two twin mattresses and a table.

    In Maui I toiled on a permaculture farm high in the mountains and shared a tent and later a small bedroom with my close friend.

    Kauai led us to volunteering at a beautiful multi-million dollar home where my friend and I alternated between sleeping on the couch in the main house and a recently renovated toolshed that fit only a small twin-sized bed.

    Throughout my time in Hawaii I left behind many of my things, some voluntarily and others involuntarily.

    I donated restrictive clothing that no longer seemed to fit my more laid back attitude and two comfortable pillows that I had initially been sure I would take with me wherever I went.

    However, it was my reaction to my involuntary losses that made me realize the futility of holding on to material possessions I once considered essential in the concrete jungle: my cell phone and my music playing device.

    Before, these losses would have aroused a plethora of negative emotions in me: regret, anger, sadness, frustration, and most certainly the overwhelming desperation to replace them as quickly as possible.

    Having very little came with a big benefit, however: I had very little to lose. An even bigger benefit was that I learned to appreciate what I did have.

    Sometimes we make ourselves sick with worry over keeping our possessions safe in our care and sick with longing for what we don’t have.

    This comes with associating our worth and our happiness with material objects that no matter how much we care for, eventually deteriorate over time or go out of style only to be replaced with a newer version.

    And so the cycle continues.

    Breaking the dizzying cycle of materialism doesn’t have to include donating all our belongings to a charity, however. There are three simple steps you can take toward gaining freedom from your possessions and breaking the cycle of more, more, more.

     1. Cut down on what you already have.

    It doesn’t have to be something drastic. Studies have shown that removing clutter from our surroundings leads to a calmer and clearer state of mind.

    Start with one room instead of trying to take on the whole house. Are there any clothes you haven’t worn in years? Be honest and really consider if you’ll ever wear it again.

    Personal styles come and go, and there’s no shame in donating something that still has a price tag on it, you’ve only worn a few times, or is uncomfortable due to our beautifully changing bodies.

    2. Think twice before you buy.

    “If I don’t get this I’m going to regret it tomorrow.” “It’s such a good deal I’d be foolish not to buy it!”

    Wait a day to buy whatever you think you need, especially if you hadn’t planned on buying it before you saw it.

    More often than not, our concentration is pulled in other directions and we don’t even remember the item we just “had” to have the day before. Or, the prospect of going back to the store is simply not worth it.

     3. Be grateful for what you have.

    This is by far the most important piece of advice I can give to anyone. There was a day when the servers offered candy for the first time during lunch, and I don’t think I ever enjoyed a small hard candy as much in my entire life.

    Being without so much of what I took for granted every day during my meditation retreat (including any chairs with backs!) and during much of my travels led me to realize that focusing on the small things I had made me infinitely happier.

    Smiling woman image via Shutterstock

  • Buy Less: Take the Fear and Compulsion Out of Shopping

    Buy Less: Take the Fear and Compulsion Out of Shopping

    by Lori Deschene

    “Throw moderation to the winds, and the greatest pleasures bring the greatest pains.” ~Democritus

    Around the holidays we tend to talk more about consumerism. Especially knowing that Black Friday started even earlier than usual this year (on Thursday night), a lot of us feel that our consumption has gotten out of hand.

    Many people I know have suggested we should curb our impulse to buy and only purchase necessities, but I can’t help but wonder if perhaps the solution is less about extremism and more about moderation.

    Making a drastic change can seem appealing when we’re frustrated or overwhelmed with the way things are, but going from one extreme to another rarely provides a viable long-term solution.

    The problem isn’t that we buy things we don’t need; it’s that we buy lots of things we don’t need to fill our assorted emotional voids.

    Does anyone need a piece of jewelry? Or a painting? Or an app?

    No—but good, talented people create these things. So long as we don’t mistakenly attach our happiness to them, we can both support those people and enjoy the fruits of their labor by purchasing their creations, when we’re financially able.

    No one goes into debt for occasionally treating themselves to something they would appreciate wearing, displaying, or using. We only run into issues when we spend compulsively and beyond our means.

    And buying gifts for other people—this can provide a lot of joy for the buyer and the giver, if we don’t pressure ourselves to spend extravagantly.

    Every year, each of my family members spend five dollars on stocking stuffers for the other four, so that we each end up with twenty dollars of stuff. None of us need the gum, combs, and magazines we get, but it’s fun and easily doable.

    The problem isn’t that we live in a consumer culture. It’s that we’re not always mindful of how and why we each consume.

    In much the same way, advertising itself isn’t fundamentally bad; everyone who supports themselves sells something, whether it’s a product, a course, or a service; that requires them to promote it. (more…)