Freedom. Light. Air. Peace. Breathe. Open. Rest. Freedom.
These words have always been in my life. They were my dream, my desire, my goal.
If we have a conversation, you’ll hear me say these words. Not intentionally, they are just on the tip of my tongue waiting to fly.
I even married a man who’s last name in Portuguese means, “Freedom.” I didn’t know that when I met him.
Minimalism has been a theme in my life as far as I can remember.
Early on the thought was, “I have to stay light, unhindered, untethered, so I can break free when the opportunity arises.”
I never let myself get too attached to things, places or people.
And when the opportunity came, I only took what I could fit in my car.
In addition to that escape mentality, I had experienced the insult of having the people who were supposed to love and care for me choose things over me. So, things became like a more talented, beautiful, more loved sibling of which I lived in the shadow.
Like Scarlett O’Hara, I stood, fist in the air, declaring that “As God as my witness, I would never love things more than people!”
And I didn’t.
Minimalism is elemental to me. It comes naturally and easily.
When I hear stories about people who choose to live minimally, it is often a reaction to something negative: a death, a divorce, and in my case a difficult childhood.
Can minimalism rise from a healthy, balanced experience or must it be a reaction to an unjust situation?
What do you think?
Tuesday Peace to you,