Minimalism as a Practice

crafting a jewel box life one decision at a time

It’s a Saturday night when—thanks to a sudden burst of night owl energy—I start cleaning out our walk-in closet.

Without overthinking it, I fill two Trader Joe’s bags with the low-hanging fruit of donation items: maternity clothes, office blouses I hadn’t worn in years, pajama sets I never bothered to have hemmed. My husband, who’s in bed watching Bosch, side-eyes me as I bring bag after filled bag into our bedroom. “Do you have any clothes left?” he asks, laughing.

I wonder if it’s the images from

Shira Gill

’s Organized Living book or the pep talks from Dana White’s How to Manage Your Home Without Losing Your Mind that are seeping into my psyche, compelling me to take action before I lose my mind. Because by the following weekend, I have fifteen (!) bags of clothes plus two changing tables (one we had been using as extra shelving in our closet) and a crib mattress ready for donation.

The more I take away, the more I find to bag and give away.
The more I remove from my space, the clearer I can see what I already have and love.
The more I let go, the more I realize how little I actually need.

minimalism, a definition

In a podcast episode from 2019, Cal Newport describes to Rich Roll what he means by minimalism, and he says—and I’m paraphrasing here—that minimalism is having a small number of things from which you derive a great deal of value. I relay this definition to my husband later. “This is what I want,” I tell him. “A great deal of value from the fewest number of things.” When you consider the Pareto Principle, it makes sense. Why keep the 80% of things that offer only 20% value?

minimalism as a practice

The whirlwind of October—flag football games for all three boys every Friday, baseball every Sunday, a birthday party for my husband, a birthday party for my now 5-year-old, parent-teacher conferences, Halloween—has reminded me that while there are many things I can do, each commitment costs me emotional energy, mental energy, money, and time.

I want to focus my energy on what adds great value, not what adds marginal value. 
I want fewer things, and I want to enjoy them more.
I want to do fewer things, and I want to do them better.

I want less busy and higher quality, more present experiences.

As we approach the end of this year (how is it November?!), I’m renewing my commitment to:

minimizing the mental labor

One example of a huge mental labor time black hole: party planning. The amount of mental labor that goes into party planning is obscene. The vendors, the curating of emails and phone numbers for invitations, the food planning. Even a “simple” birthday party has tasks that add up. I’m quitting all that. 

As I told my kids, this is the last year I’m planning birthday parties. Dad is welcome to plan them or we can do an experience that requires a single booking. I can make a special dinner; we can go to Legoland for the weekend. What I cannot do is plan 5 birthday parties in the span of 4 months, and by taking parties off my plate, I’ll be freeing up hours and hours of time … next fall 🙃.

sorry, honey, it’ll be a while before you get another one of these birthday charcuterie boards

continuing our home declutter

As Cal Newport says in Digital Minimalism, “Clutter is costly.” I’ve been paying for clutter with my peace of mind. 

In our garage at the moment, I have two changing tables (one that we used as makeshift shelving in our closet) and 20+ bags full of donation items. Throughout this year, I have periodically purged lots and lots of things, but I vastly underestimated just how many things we have and just how many things we bring into our home everyday (school papers! goodie bags! books!—oops, that one’s on me). I’m committed to continuing the minimalism and declutter process until our home feels lighter. As

Laura Fenton

says, “Maintaining order is self care.”

high quality input

Related to this decluttering lifestyle: reducing my “shopping” influencer input. I’ve noticed a correlation between my consumption and the time spent on social media. This makes sense—less exposure to ads and influencer marketing; it’s amazing how not being persuaded to constantly buy more stuff results in … not buying so much stuff. What I’m going for instead: more inspiration from books, long-form content, travel, classes, and nature. November, with its crisp air and fall leaves and spectacular sunsets is probably my new favorite month, and I want to lean into that kind of delight.

photo from our recent visit to Santa Barbara

intentional experiences

I wonder what my kids will remember from their childhood. I wonder if they’ll remember the Disney cruise we went on and what it was like to watch the surfers at sunset at Turtle Bay from the lounge balcony? I can’t curate their childhood memories, but I do want to intentionally craft high-impact special moments as much as I can.

playing chess with a new friend while surfers surf in the background

creating a jewel box of a home

I want a home that’s not necessarily large or extravagant but meticulously maintained and well-cared for.  I want our home to have beautiful finishes and custom built-ins and textured layers. I do not want our home to be overrun with a mismash of items bought from Target on clearance because they were cheap. I’m committed to creating a home that feels like a jewel box, and I’m committed to doing this one vignette at a time. 

that shade of pink paint is called “Meet Cute,” so of course I have to use it somewhere in my home

I’m committed to crafting a jewel box life, one moment at a time.

tell me more …

Anyone else exhausted by the treadmill of more? What are you reading/listening to that’s offering clarity re: your priorities? What are you honing in on as we approach the close of the year?

p.s. This article (How Much Is That Lifestyle in the Window?) was fascinating.