Extreme Minimalism

How can we create and maintain a sustainable footprint, everywhere? By owning only what we need and love. Some even choose extreme minimalism.

After years of living simply, I found myself embracing extreme minimalism—one of the most freeing choices I’ve ever made.

My life essentials fit into a few bags, with plenty of comfort included—from household necessities to multi-purpose keepsakes like the one above.

And while I love the aesthetics of Scandinavian minimalism, each person gets to decide what their minimalism will look like.

The options are endless. The freedom can feel profound. Yet it’s definitely not for everyone.

Minimalism vs. Extreme Minimalism

Some might define minimalism and extreme minimalism as nearly the same. Some might view them as entirely different. Having evolved from simplicity, here’s how I tend to see them:

For instance, when I owned a small eco-cabin, walked nearly everywhere, slept in a hammock, and had little else in my cabin, some might have called that minimalism.

But my thoughts were elsewhere.

I still had two storage units of stuff to process through. I hadn’t yet created the peaceful environment I wanted.

I wanted to somehow find the energy to process through all the things I was holding onto (from my past). I wanted to lift the weight of those belongings from my shoulders.

But just thinking about doing so stopped me in my tracks.

It wasn’t until years later—when I was preparing to sell my eco-cabin—that I finally traveled to those storage units and processed through all those things.

That experience catapulted me into extreme minimalism.

The more I live this way, the more I want to keep things as minimal as possible, because typical things and related expectations have always felt like burdens to me.

And burdens can paralyze us.

Becoming an Extreme Minimalist

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved having just a few nice things around me, as beautifully organized as possible.

This brings me comfort. It helps me focus. It creates a peaceful space for me to be.

Living in a variety of homes (located in woods, towns, cities, mountains, villages, on an estate, on islands, and on a boat) confirmed that most belongings didn’t bring me fulfillment.

No matter how many people told me that I should enjoy many belongings, no matter how they insisted I should live like everyone else, most stuff simply was not enjoyable to me.

I felt burdened by the majority of what I owned and how it impacted my life. I had far less than most people I know, but it was too much for me.

All I wanted was to be free of most things, to have one bag packed as practically as possible, and to be ready to go at any given moment.

Yet, it took a long time before I allowed myself to live as minimally as I love. I absolutely wish I had taken these steps sooner.

Raised poor, my dad talked about how he, too, preferred the days when he owned just a few things. He wistfully longed for the days when his belongings could fit into just one bag.

And, how I loved my immigrant grandparents and their simple life. Most would see them as impoverished, but their wooden home and basic belongings brought me so much peace.

Decluttering to Purging

When it’s time, it’s time. It can start big. It can start small.

One of the earliest baby steps I took toward minimalism, years before my eco-cabin existed, was to declutter my life of paper mail.

It was ethically and ecologically important, and I could do it each day after I picked up the mail:

• sort mail into piles

  • bills

  • personal correspondence

  • junk mail

• handle each pile

  • pay bills

  • respond to personal notes

  • stop junk mail

• file/shred/recycle

I now receive my mail by Traveling Mailbox.

This effort soon motivated me to gather, sort, gift, donate, and sell items from my home. The more I cleared out, the more I wanted to clear out.

This was a big step for me, even though I was still holding onto all the things I felt obligated to hold onto. I eventually put those items into two storage units.

$20,000 Storage Units

I had two storage units for more than fifteen years (through multiple moves) because they held the items I wasn’t sure what to do with.

Each time I thought about these storage units, I felt a weight on my shoulders, a little sick to my stomach, and slightly paralyzed.

I truly couldn’t decide what to do with them. Even though I appreciated many of the items in storage, I didn’t want to feel obligated to keep them, yet I did.

Around the time I was preparing to sell my eco-cabin, I realized I’d spent more than $20,000 on those storage units. I literally could not believe it.

All of a sudden I was motivated to take action.

At that time, the storage units were located far away from me. So I planned and prepared before I headed to them:

• determined the number of days I’d need

  • to travel

  • to sort

  • to distribute

• determined all the services I’d need, their hours of operation, and reservations:

  • ferries

  • shuttle buses

  • flights

  • rental vehicles

    • SUV

    • U-Haul

  • hotels

  • storage unit staff

  • locksmith/lock cutter

  • mobile shredder truck

  • auctioneer

  • non-profits

  • the dump

  • shipping services

  • movers

• planned how I’d meet my basic needs each day at the storage units

  • stock up on food/supplies each morning

  • know how to access bathrooms (open only during office hours)

  • spend uninterrupted time at the storage units, to expedite all

Once I was back at my eco-cabin, sorting through all the items from storage, I then:

• took beautiful photos of my favorite items (so I could look at the images if ever I missed the belongings)

• gave family heirlooms back to family members (dropped off 5+ large boxes)

• gave special gifts from friends back to friends (items precious to them)

• sold my own large/valuable items (like my beloved Italian steam cleaner)

• gave away items to those who wanted them (especially those who could not afford to buy them; I still feel guilty about one person I forgot)

• donated items to non-profits

It is still shocking to me to realize all of the resources that were needed to handle all of my things.

Sadly, some items were not accepted anywhere, nor wanted by anyone, and had to go to the dump. I still feel regret about this. I don’t ever want to experience that again.

All of this makes me value words and actions, as gifts, even more.

Selling Home and Auto

Once my eco-cabin was staged and ready to sell, I put it on the market. It felt like such a relief.

I hunkered down with my boyfriend until my cabin sold, which allowed me to move forward with my life.

When my home sold, I was relieved all over again. Of course, it felt a little bittersweet, too.

However, I absolutely knew it was the right decision, especially since so much change was occurring on island.

Then I sold my auto, which was essentially sitting unused. And I felt relief yet again.

tough decisions, rewards

During this process, there were tough decisions I couldn’t find easy answers to. When that happened, I found it best to:

• pause on those decisions (handle other things)

• wait for the solution to present itself (it always did, closer to the time of execution)

I cannot begin to describe the feelings of gratitude and freedom that arrived after giving away/selling most everything, releasing me from all of that stuff.

I no longer had to worry about owning (sorting, organizing, cleaning, protecting) all of those things. I no longer felt that weight on my shoulders or that sick feeling in my belly.

I was able to decide (and watch) what happened to my things. It was also truly a gift to witness the joy others experienced when they received what they wanted from my stash of belongings.

I’m so relieved to have taken care of this now, so another doesn’t have to handle this for me later.

Should Minimalists or Extreme Minimalists Own a Certain Number of Items?

Over the years, it’s been great fun to see people share online as they sort through all their belongings, determined to reduce the number of things they own.

Some people enjoy owning just a certain number of items.

As someone who functions best through making lists and reducing items from my life, I completely understand that kind of joy.

But I also know I could not limit myself to owning a particular number of items.

It brings me more joy to instead just own “as few things as possible.” This supports the flexibility that I value so much because everything about life seems to fluctuate.

Can a Minimalist or Extreme Minimalist Truly Live Independently?

I love to live independently, as sustainably self-contained as possible. This is very important to me, as I do not want to inconvenience others.

• My bags carry the items I truly need, no matter where I am.

• When I need something that I don't have, I fully expect to pay for it through rentals and service providers.

• When I no longer need things I've accumulated, I can donate them or sell them.

So it is absolutely possible to live independently as a minimalist or extreme minimalist.

Is Minimalism or Extreme Minimalism Selfish?

Some consider minimalism or extreme minimalism to be a selfish act toward loved ones, especially if loved ones have been entertained in a home that’s about to go minimal.

I have another take on it.

I think everyone has a responsibility to live their life true to their values—in the way that best fits their needs (as long as it doesn’t harm another).

For instance, nobody should feel obligated to entertain in their own home just because some people expect to be entertained in someone’s home.

But if an extreme minimalist entertains loved ones, those loved ones should only accept that invitation if they hold genuine support for their host. This is their host’s home life.

A minimalist home meets the host’s basic needs. If there are not enough dishes for guests, guests can bring their own sustainable supplies. Or a host can use paper plates and cups. Potluck style.

There was a time when homes were small and resources minimal. Thus, being resourceful in this way was absolutely normal.

Or loved ones can meet at a favorite coffee shop, restaurant, park, lake, activity hub, community space, or in someone’s larger home.

For myself, I think it would have been selfish had I not minimized my possessions and consumption, as I think our planet deserves better than what we've been compulsively giving it.

Will I ever own a Home, Auto, or Lots of Stuff Again?

Looking back on the simple lives of my immigrant grandparents, it’s clear to me that minimalism and extreme minimalism can help us focus on what is truly important.

For myself, after getting rid of nearly everything, I proclaimed for years that I never wanted to own a home, auto, or stuff again. And I meant it.

But is that realistic?

First, I have to emphasize that my boyfriend will always want to live where it feels like his family is surrounding him—stoking a fire, working in a shop, and growing a garden.

That is the life he was taught. That is the life he loves. That is the life that soothes him.

I support him in that as I know how healing that is to him—how much he needs to be surrounded by that, to feel comfort and close to his loved ones.

And, as I age, I’ll need a home base. To rest, to garden, and to be with community.

Currently in the States, with the addiction, mental health, violence, and housing crises seemingly everywhere, it’s challenging for anyone to find safe and affordable housing.

One cannot even easily find safe and affordable moorage to live on a boat, which is almost unheard of. Most wait lists are now years long.

So I must remain flexible about all of this.

However, no matter what, I want to keep my personal belongings (the things that I can lift with my hands) extremely minimal.

Because that cleansing of everything else felt too good.