I read an article about hoarding and how it can reach a point where a person’s home becomes so full of stuff that they cannot move. It’s classed as a disease.
This got me thinking about the opposite of hoarding: minimalism. The art of Reducing what you have to the minimum amount that you need. In my case this often becomes extreme minimalism.
I love tidying and organising, but sometimes it can get to a point where I am throwing away stuff that I might need in the future. I’ve even thrown, or given away items that I later regret getting shot of. Buying replacements or copies at a later date. Is this too a disease?
I hate clutter and feel the urge to tidy, to organise, to neaten and arrange. A clear area is calming. Clutter free, organised, everything in its place. Each item with a purpose, a need, a location.
Extreme minimalism.
Category: life
The calming sound of the waves
I’m working by the sea again. A short walk from my desk to the beach where the waves relentlessly caress the sand, back and forth, over and over, whatever the weather. That relaxing sound that calms my mind and allows me to switch off for a while.
I’ve started setting off earlier on my daily commute so I can head to the beach. To listen to the waves against the shore, the gulls calling to each other, the smell of the sea. There’s a bench nearby under a roof. It offers respite from any wind or rain. The occasional morning jogger, fast walker, dog walker, and fisherman nod as they pass, if they notice me. I keep listening to the waves.
Ten minutes is all I need. Better than any coffee, breakfast, or shower. I’m ready to start my day with a relaxed mind. Focused. Calm.
The calming sound of the waves.
Old colleagues
I keep running into old colleagues. People I’ve worked with five, ten, twenty years ago. At events like parties, weddings, wakes, and networking. When you’ve worked all over a particular region for the best part of three decades you are bound to run into people you’ve worked with on occasion.
How are you doing, how have you been, what are you up to these days, do you remember so-and-so? The obligatory small talk questions. You are caught-up in minutes. Years refined down and summarised in a few sentences. I’m fine I’m retired I make jam and sell it outside my home. Or I’ve had some health problems but I’m fine now. I took redundancy from my last job and I’m semi-retired now doing the filming for the occasional wedding.
I was surprised by how many were retired. Many younger than me. Others had changed careers entirely following their passions, usually after receiving an early pension or large redundancy payout. After calculating how much they need to reach their pension they declare themselves semi-retired and make their hobby a part-time income source. They seemed much happier.
Others are still in the game. Their words. Rising up career ladders, making a name for themselves in their respective fields, making money and investing in property, businesses, the next big thing.
All have stories. Over a coffee or chilled glass of wine we catch up. Has it really been X years? We each throw out names of people we worked with. Names long forgotten. So-and-so left company X and is now a postman. Someone else started their own plumbing business. Another died of a heart attack. Some I remember, some I don’t. People I worked with side-by-side for days on end, for months, years.
Time moves on. We all have lives with unique paths. I received a summary, a snippet of some of those paths second-hand as I slowly drained my glass.
Old colleagues.
I can go three days without sleep
I’ve worked some challenging jobs in my career. One such job taught me how long I can go without sleep and still function, to a point. Long hours, presentations, meetings, followed by taxi, bus, and train journeys to the next destination and hotel, then repeat. High stress and anxiety meant that with each hotel stay sleep rarely came, or when it did it wasn’t deep enough.
After the first day I can function at about 60%. After the second it’s 40%. By the morning after the third sleepless night I’m at 20%. I can function, I can get through meetings and presentations, but anything not scripted and my brain is sluggish. I Don’t drink caffeine or other stimulants so I’m running on energy and sheer willpower alone. I Don’t drive on day three. It’s too dangerous.
By the end of day three I’m a zombie and I will sleep for around 10-12 hours. The next day I’m at around 80%. It generally takes about two days to catch up and get back to normal.
This is not a long-term strategy for dealing with stressful situations. If I can, I generally avoid them. But if not I know I can function without sleep, but only for three days.
When you’re gone
I’m at a wake. We are all wearing colour. It was mandated.
We are in a large garden. There’s drink, food, laughter and sadness. People are having conversations about their lives, upcoming holidays, birthdays, parties. Living their lives.
All but one. The gone.
When you’re gone you’re gone. People may be sad for a while, you may be missed, but you’ll be gone. You are not here to see what happens next, to enjoy the food, the drink, the company. To take part in the conversations, the future plans. It’s sad but nothing is forever.
Looking around it made me think. People come and go. You can’t live in the past. You have to enjoy the here and now. Enjoy every day, the people you love, and the things that make you happy, no matter how small. Nothing lasts.
When you’re gone, your gone.
Making other people money
When it comes to making money I appear to be good at making other people money. There seems to be no end of people asking for my time and using it to make themselves money.
I’m constantly asked to lend my time and expertise to worthwhile endeavours that will help build the community. Giving talks, writing articles, judging events, hosting events, giving my time freely, only to later learn that those doing the asking are being paid or are making money on the back of my time and efforts.
So I’ve started to say no. No to giving away my time and sweat for free. I think I’ve banked enough karma to earn a break and to focus on giving time to me and mine.
For now I’m taking a break from making other people money.
Your best Me day
A Me day is a day all about you. Where you take the time to enjoy life as you do best. No work, family responsibilities, or chores. Just pure unadulterated laziness or activity that entertains you. With your favourite foods and drinks.
Now what would your best Me day look like if money was no object? What would you do if you were filthy rich and wanted a break from it all?
How about a house on a tropical island with no one around. There’s a tiki bar on the beach with self service. A pile of your favourite books on a stool by a lounge chair by the pool. A personal chef delivering whatever you want to eat by boat when you call.
Or maybe flying on a private jet to a far away country to dine at an exclusive restaurant followed by a play or movie?
Maybe a luxury cruise or train journey?
Or a remote cabin with a laptop so you can work on your writing with no interuption?
What would your best Me day look like?
A kid from the city
One of my favourite books as a kid was A kid from the city by E.M Watkins. I grew up in a concrete town and this book made me dream of a life in the countryside with nothing but rolling fields, farm animals, and plenty of fresh air.
When I was old enough I would ride my bike out of town to the nearest stretch of countryside and spend many an hour cycling down country lanes and up and down hills stopping for ice-cream or fudge at the country stores sitting by dry stone walls or winding streams.
At the end of the day I’d always have to return home, vowing that one day I would live in the countryside.
I finally achieved my dream and I now enjoy every minute of it. I still go cycling, exploring further afield taking in churches, ruins, and the odd manor house. I bought a copy of A kid from the city for my kids and read it to them but they didn’t seem to appreciate it like I did. I guess they already live in the countryside so maybe they’ll have different dreams of adventure.
The subtle art of finishing
Unfinished jobs, projects, tasks on your to do lists, just sitting there like a virtual weight around your neck. Constantly reminding you that they are still there unfinished. That thing you started with zeal and enjoyment that petered out over time or was paused for some long forgotten reason.
We all have them. Unfinished furniture or classic vehicles in our garages, artwork or manuscripts in the study, or scale models and faulty electronics on the dining room table or windowsill awaiting attention.
We should all practice the subtle art of finishing. Either make time to finish the thing once and all or if we no longer want or need to, to take a leaf out of Marie Kondo’s book and just thank it for the experiences and memories and let it go. Discard it, gift it, donate it, turn it into spare parts, or even burn it.
The aim is to remove the unfinished from our life and move on with one less weight on our shoulders. Go give it a try. Finish it.
Reducing alcohol this summer
I’ve been trying to reduce the amount of alcohol I drink. With the warmer weather it’s getting harder as it’s nice to sit in your garden with a good book and a cold glass of your favourite tipple.
I tried the non-alcoholic versions of popular drinks. Most don’t taste anything like the original and contain too much sugar. You are effectively giving up one vice for another.
In theory we should all just drink water, ensuring that we consume the required three litres a day to remain healthy. But this is boring, taste wise.
My latest tactic is to have cold filtered water with ice with a little something such as a slice of lime or lemon, or even cucumber. It gives the water a little something making it slightly interesting while hydrating.
What are you drinking this summer?