Even if we can afford the first cost, the second and third costs can become an expensive ‘debt’ on our life’s balance sheet.

Minimalism have been intriguing to me for well over a decade (see “Can a book lover ever be a minimalist?). This community emerged online through the simultaneous efforts of a number of different folks such as The Minimalists (Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus), Josh Becker, Leo Bautista.  Their work encourages us all to think more deeply about the role that stuff plays in our lives.  A natural result of these considerations is a meaningful (some times dramatic reduction) in the number of items that people own.

Stuff, I’ve learned, is a tricky thing. For example, we know from scientific research that people in fact drive greater satisfaction by consuming experiences. The anticipation of the experience, the experience itself, and the memories contained afterwards are powerful drivers of satisfaction.

But it is not that simple. On the one hand, things offer an immediate, dopamine hit. Retail therapy is a thing for a reason. On the other, things have a unique way of becoming intertwined with our identity. Consider for example the $17.8 million paid for Paul Newman’s actual Rolex. Obviously a great watch in itself, but the fact that it had lived on Paul’s wrist offer a sense of connection to the man. For a select number of our possesions, they become part of the story we tell about ourselves.

Last year, I was fortunate enough to hear the Matt Paxton speak at a conference. Matt, originally the host of Hoarders on TLC, has thought extensively about the role that stuff plays in our lives. Not surprisingly, he is now a minimalist (feels like a natural side effect of cleaning out all those houses). You can tell though he has thought deeply about the role that physical possessions plays in his life.

His new show, Legacy List, and accompanying book puts forth an interesting idea: we all have only a handful of truly important possessions.  These possessions, which he terms The Legacy List, are made important by the stories that accompany the items. These items are the ones that are truly important to us.  They become heirlooms as the stories are told and retold.

If we accept Paxton’s primary premise, there is an interesting embedded subpoint – namely that the non-legacy list possessions we have are just tools, instruments for living our lives.

So how should we consume them in light of this?  As I have contemplated all this, there are three principles that have emerged and resonated with me.

First – less but better. For most of us, we are vastly ‘over-provisioned.‘ If life was the Oregon Trail computer game, our wagons are far too loaded with supplies. We are prepared for a wide range of imagined scenarios that will never come to past. Focusing on acquiring goods that are well crafted – durable and repairable – will cover the vast range of life’s potential requirements. And moreover at a societal level, our over-provisioning generates a tremendous amount of waste. This is the hush over dirty secret of the ‘fast fashion’ industry is the amount of clothes waste that it produces. It is estimated that America alone produces 11.3 million tons of textile waste each year.

Second – we must consider the second cost of ownership when we buy – the cost of activation. Years ago, I came across this article which was fantastic.  The author’s point is that when we buy something, we pay a first cost in getting it into our homes. But there is a second cost: the cost of using the thing. For example, the cost of a guitar is both its purchase price, but also the time required to learn how to play. Too often, we forget this secondary cost. This is why vacation homes can be alluring – who doesn’t love the idea of having another home(s) to go to. But, what to do when you need the roof replaced or the water heater breaks? Will you be the one to oversee the work, or will you hire a property manager to assist? Either is fine, but a real cost in time or money.

Third, there is a third cost of ownership that receives almost no attention: the cost of disposal. It would be easy here to jump off and talk about sustainability and environmental impacts. I do not want to do that. I am actually talking about the trash. What will you have to do to actually get rid of the thing? For example, several years ago, we got rid of our gas powered lawn tools and went to electric. Getting rid of the tools was no problem – easy post on the neighborhood email list and boom – gone.

The gas cans were a different story. For nearly three years, these gas cans sat in our garage about 1/8 full. They even moved from one house to another with us.  Finally this spring, I was able to track down a county-wide safe disposal event and we were able to dispose of them properly. This has been a massive pain, a lot of time, and honestly the annoyance of seeing those cans sitting in the garage every time we drove in and out of the garage reminding us that we still needed to do something with them. The cognitive equivalent of a small splinter, not enough for surgery but just enough to be annoying.

For the majority of us, we are not going to take monastic vows and shed all possessions, nor adopt some of the arbitrariness of the more extreme strands of minimalism (like having 100 total possessions). But there is wisdom here and lessons for us to learn. Our possessions have a way of owning us in turn – both in our attitude towards them, as well as the time required to enjoy them. A boat brings both great joy, but also many trips to the mechanic (typically).

Possessions bring provision and the ability to face the needs and vicissitudes of life. But too much can weigh us down. Clutter in our environs can bring clutter in the mind. It can prevent clarity of thinking and clarity of presence that allows us to experience joy in the presence of others.

We should be careful about how much ‘stuff debt’ we allow on our balance sheet.

Shopping brings joy in the moment, but the afterglow fades – sometimes quickly. We live and move in a market economy designed to highlight needs, whether actual or perceived, through advertising. Business models are built on the introduction of novelty. Fashion has more seasons than the calendar now – each offering more and more goods. In the face of this, it is easy to fall prey to a sort of anxiety about whether we have the right things in the right proportions.

Instead, we should orient our lives towards contentment. Doing so requires wading into the trickiest of all questions – how much is enough?

I think there is actually a counter-intuitive way to address this question. If we look at our lives of plenty, the state of most that call the US home, and still feel the draw to acquire more, it seems reasonable to assume that we will not find what we are looking for in doing so. The “destination” always remains just beyond the horizon line.

But perhaps by going backwards – towards simplicity and less, we may find not “enough,” but we may find the perspective to realize that the desire for more is ever-present.

Awakening to this consciousness permits us to acknowledge our desire, in addition to facing its seeming insatiability.  In life, this side of eternity, there are longings that are not met. The challenge is where do we go and to what do we turn as we realize and carry forward these unanswerables.