“The Simpler the Life, The Happier the Life.”

I found this quote over 6 years ago, on the Menu at Lao Lao Garden in Luang Prabang.

I remember being on a hike in the Philippines about 7 years ago and seeing a family without power in Tibiao area (a small village on the non-touristic Panay Island that you fly into with Caticlan, to get to nearby Boracay).

We were heading through the forest to head upriver for kayaking, and we passed by a family – there were two little kids (probably both under 3 years old), and their grandma, all dancing and smiling and singing together while listening to “Teach Me How to Dougie” on the radio. It was so lovely, feeling how happy they were. I waved to them and said hello when we walked by and they happily said hello and waved in return. They were living in a small wooden traditional old hut amongst the trees with a dirt floor, and didn’t seem to have much at all in terms of material things, but they appeared to have more than enough to be content. Each other, health, entertainment and also the time to enjoy it together.

You don’t need much

How did this process of getting rid of all my things start?

Originally, I had a breakup with my boyfriend at the time, and we moved out of our beautiful shared apartment towards the end of 2009. We then got back together and lived elsewhere in the meantime, but the forced move-out resulted in both of us starting to get rid of things in the short term. I moved in temporarily with my brother (who happened to live in the building next door), so I didn’t have another place to go or anywhere to keep things like furniture, except what space allowed (and my bro would be patient with for awhile) in his storage space in his parkade. 

We went through the normal separation activities – who gets what furniture, and what happens to the rest? Since I didn’t have a planned place I was going to move into, I didn’t want all the “stuff” and preferred to just get rid of most things, except the smallest items, or those that could be broken apart and easily fit into tiny spaces (like a bed frame that could be taken apart).

It’s easy to feel removed from this situation when I look back at it today, but I think that I never had a huge attachment to material things from the beginning, or this may have been a more difficult process for me. I didn’t want “all the things”, and it seemed like more of a hassle to keep than to get rid of whatever needed to be delved out between the two of us.

After that whole process, we went traveling for a year to all of our friend’s weddings, who mainly decided to have their celebrations around the globe.

When we came back, we moved into his parent’s place in Squamish (as they were away traveling at the time), and after that, only a month later (or less?), we made a final split and I went back to Vancouver, and stayed at a girlfriend’s apartment for a week (while she was mainly away traveling for work), as I tried to figure out where to live.

This process took a long time and wasn’t done all at once. I was lucky to have my brother’s patience while I slowly parted with all of my things. Each year, whenever I was back in Vancouver over the summer, or else just in town for a few weeks, I’d lose the weight of a little bit more. There would always be a reason that helped push that to happen as well and was very helpful through the overall process – a girlfriend would move in with my brother temporarily and they needed more space, and then he got engaged to the amazing woman he ended up marrying, so I needed to continue to streamline what I fit in their storage room until there was nothing left (although that didn’t happen until I ironically moved into an apartment with my partner after not having one at all for 6 years – at least he had the furnishings we needed).

I’ve always loved shoes (like so many others!) and giving those away for some reason stands out strongly in my mind. I probably had more than 50 pairs of heels that I had collected over the years, and in one fell swoop, I had a couple girlfriends select what they wanted first, and then the same day, I just dropped off whatever was left to the clothing donation bin. Perhaps it stands out more than other items I parted with because I loved them so much, yet still wanted them gone and didn’t have it affect me all that much when I did finally rid myself of them. Really, they are only shoes, and not people, experiences, memories, or other things that I would think more strongly about if I were reflecting back over my life someday (although ironically, I’m doing just that while writing these words).

The next summer came and went, the next box of bedding, bed frame, old books, and almost new king-sized mattress disappeared. I gave away as much as I could to friends and family, on Craigslist, and tossed whatever couldn’t be re-used and just felt in the way. At the end of this process, which took around 3 years of travels and returns to Vancouver, I was down to 3 boxes (including all my photo albums of childhood and teenage memories, skis, a few heavier winter clothes I would use if I was ever back during that time of year, and a couple remaining pairs of boots). Other than that, all that I had to my name was a set of clothing that mostly fit with a tropical lifestyle (the amount of bikinis I had was a bit excessive compared to the other articles of clothing I owned), a single pair of flip flops that I wore to hike over active volcanos in Hawaii, and through mountains and waterfalls and rivers in Asia. I also had running shoes that I never ended up wearing, of course my MacBook Air which I bought shortly after beginning to travel, my mini Jambox speaker so I could enjoy music wherever I went, and my phone and any bathroom accessories.

Less to worry about, less weight

I felt so light, so free, as if I could just take off and go anywhere (which is what I was doing), and had way less “stuff” to think about. Everything I owned fit in a regular sized roller suitcase and carry-on, plus my slim and light laptop bag. In the end, I always used a lot less than what I carried with me for trips of up to 10 months at a time, back and forth across the world, but I didn’t worry about it too much. When I was in Bangkok, I often stayed at the same serviced apartment for several years and they would store one piece of luggage for me between trips, even for months at a time.

The other thing that worked really well is that I had a lot of friends and family come and meet me along my travels. So my mom would head over to Thailand, and I would send a few items of clothing I didn’t need for the season back with her, or leave them behind wherever I was. My brother would see me in NYC or Paris, and he’d take back a pair of boots (or bring them to me if it was too cold to just have my flip flops or runners). Otherwise, I’d accidentally leave things behind hanging on the backs of doors of hotels (I recall that I did this at the Marina Bay Sands during a one night stay), but I couldn’t be bothered to go through the effort of getting a few personal items back. They were replaceable, inexpensive, and it didn’t seem like it would be worth my time.

Note: A good reference here is the Minimalism documentary, which was released a few years after I originally started to write this article. 

Enjoy experiences rather than things

What this did was allow me to enjoy experiences rather than things, which is what’s most important to me. I want to collect memories, not clothes or knick knacks that take up space. And over time, as I started to grow my business and make more money, I would take the time to really enjoy what I did have and save – I’d spend a little more on a piece of clothing I really wanted, instead of having more inexpensive options that I didn’t really care about or wear anyway. Plus, when you’re in the tropics most of the time, there’s not a whole lot of clothing that you need – I lived in bikinis and flip flops! This allowed me to think about quality over quantity, and be picky about what made me feel good, and what I really wanted and needed to get by. You have to be a lot more thoughtful about those material things that mean something to you, just like Marie Kondo’s book: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Even though I ended up reading that about 5 or 6 years later.

What I remember the most isn’t the shirt I wore to dinner that night, but the sunset that I watched on the west-facing beach, breathing in the warm and salty air, realizing how amazing life can be and what is out there in the big wide world to see and experience. And even though I now have a “permanent” apartment, at least for the time being, I still feel that interesting pain almost when buying something that we need. Do we really need it? What else can go if we do get something new?

Quality over quantity

Because you own so little, you appreciate and are more grateful for what you have, and know that you don’t need so much. I always find it very grounding and eye-opening to go to the third world at least once a year (although usually spent more of my time in developing places than that until recently), as it really brings you back to how wealthy we are in North America, and how we really should feel grateful for all that we have. We are a very lucky continent, with access to so much, and we shouldn’t take it for granted when there are so many people out there who are hungry, have no access to running water or food, or to the world outside of their immediate surroundings.

Sometimes you just need to get creative

There are of course other challenges that come along with having such little stuff. I found myself in cities where the weather was cooler at times, and would have to get creative and wear enough layers so I wouldn’t be too cold until I went and purchased or grabbed some warmer clothes. I literally did always wear flip flops for a couple of years, and became so used to them that my feet felt claustrophobic when I wore any close-toed shoes (and you’ll often see me still wearing them in the city out of comfort)! I was also very used to having less than more. A less comfy chair to sit on when working from my laptop with no external monitor, no padding on the seat. None of the ergonomics and luxuries that you would normally have when staying in one place. I’m a little more spoiled now and because I have such a nice office setup in Vancouver, I definitely feel the lack of it more when traveling. But at the same time, when I adjusted very quickly and didn’t have it to begin with, I didn’t even notice it in the past. I’d use empty plant pots in apartments as a riser in Puerto Rico, and get creative in other ways to make my setup more ergonomic. Throw cushions from the hotel couch onto the hard makeup seat or dining room chairs, and eventually I got a small wireless keyboard and mouse to help reduce the discomfort. But again, what discomfort is this really, when you compare it to someone who doesn’t even have power, but just a battery-operated radio. All this really means is that I really do appreciate and enjoy what I have, and don’t have any issue with finding alternate ways to make myself more comfortable when needed. Trying to figure out these challenges is part of the fun!

I do often pick up something small from each new place I go, but it’s usually earrings, or an article of small clothing, and I’m very selective on what I choose. Also, once I decide to buy something new, I let something else go in the process, so that it doesn’t get to a point where I start to feel more weighed down again.

What this has meant to me

Having very few material things means always having everything with me. In the end, you realize that you really don’t need that much. It’s quite a process and takes time to pare down, but you come to understand what you really need – wifi, your laptop, basic weather-appropriate clothing, travel emergency first aid kit (and this is still a lot!). It makes life that much more enjoyable without material objects tying you down, and allows you to have the ability to freely go from place to place in a spontaneous manner so you can fully enjoy the journey.

Photo credit: Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash