I arrived in Montpellier, France with four suitcases. 

Two contained clothes and personal items, one held bedding, and the last my thirty or so precious books.

I clumsily navigated the overfilled luggage cart to a bus that would take me up winding roads to a Buddhist retreat center in the Langeudoc, the central region in the south of France that’s now part of the larger Occitanie.

Unlike tourists, I wouldn’t visit the area’s long sandy beaches, vineyards, or historic cities.

I would be taken directly to a sparsely populated spot in its mountainous interior, where, the local farmers joked, even the sheep never went.

To arrive at this point in space and time, I had purged a two-bedroom apartment of all its contents, except what I had folded into my luggage.

I sold or gave away furniture, kitchenware, clothing, and all the miscellaneous accoutrements that had made up my life to that point. I noticed a penchant for planners, baskets, and pens.

But everything had to be released.

In France, I would attend a three-year Buddhist retreat—three years, three months, and three weeks, to be precise. I would live in a small room in a shared two-room “chalet.” No kitchen required as meals would be communal.

I wouldn’t have room for much.

…

I loved the way my three very tall BILLY bookcases (79.5 inches high) displayed my books through their glass doors. 

In these pre-Kindle days, in lieu of a large wardrobe, I bought whatever physical book I wanted, whenever I wanted. And I read most of them. 

My library included popular self-development titles, esoteric Buddhist fare, and a smattering of health tomes.

I sold the practical books on Amazon. I wouldn’t need self-improvement advice on a three-year retreat, where the concept would be looked upon with disdain. 

The Buddhist books, however, pulled at my heart strings mercilessly. I felt physical pain the day I sent them off to their new home. I worried for days afterward they wouldn’t be treated well.

And those BILLY bookshelves—I adored them so much.

I’m not an overly material person. But a certain satisfaction arises when each element of an aesthetic comes together so beautifully. Naturally, the books had been perfectly arranged according to height.

Still, the future beckoned far more than my material stuff. Once my feet touched the ground in France, I never wanted for my BILLY bookshelves ever again.

…

Three years later, I packed those four bags once again and said “au revoir” to France. I headed to the Big Island of Hawaii for a proposed three-month rest. 

As it turned out, I never left paradise. Instead, I bought a house, my first ever. Naturally, I had to populate it with furniture and various useful things. 

But I always kept it simple, when I lived in that first big, oddly shaped house and a few years later when I moved into half the space.

I had learned my time and energy is best spent on what matters most to me—writing, reading, and the profound, not excess material things. 

When I lost 99% of my possessions to an oncoming lava flow in 2018, given my experience living with less, I remained relatively unfazed. 

I knew I wouldn’t miss the man-made material things. I could happily live with four bags of my most important stuff, having already done so for three years.

But my heart ached a while for the beauty of my now blackened land.

…

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a minimalist.

But I prefer to live simply. It makes for less stress.

I shop for essentials, but I don’t collect unnecessary things. I intentionally get rid of anything that never found its right place or has lost its use. Doing so has become second nature to me.

I never save things, “Just in case.” Why keep clutter in my space?

…

Lest you think me perfect, I confess to one realm of clutter that feels beyond my personal control—the digital dimension and its analog partner in the form of paper galore.

My 49,822 strong e-mail in-box gnaws at my mind.

And I know I should go paperless. I feel guilty. I care about trees. But what if the internet shuts down or collapses entirely? 

On the other hand, if things get that bad, how much will it help to have all my papers safely filed away? 

…

To conclude, clutter sucks. So I do my best to keep my life simple and relatively clutter-free.

[Photo by Anna Nekrashevich on Pexels]

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