I recently shared an article on social media about how to retire in your 30s (1). I realize the minimalistic lifestyle necessary to achieve extreme savings goals might seem out of reach or undesirable for some, but I remain convinced minimalism can be a highly fulfilling way of life. I think there is something to be said for being happy with where we are and what we have, wherever that is. There's an entire social science literature on happiness/wellbeing that suggests that, beyond a middle-class income, income and happiness/wellbeing are only weakly—or maybe not at all—correlated. (2)
With this in mind, we should avoid thinking that more money and more consumption will make us happier. "If only I made what my boss makes" quickly turns into, when we do make what our boss makes, "If only I made what my new boss makes.” It’s the hedonic treadmill.
There will always be someone who earns more. Who drives a more expensive car. Who lives in a nicer house in a nicer part of town. Who takes fancier vacations to more distant places. Who eats more exotic food. So rather than constantly thinking about how we will be happy when something in the future happens or our means increase, we should be thinking about why we aren't happier now and what we can/should do about changing our attitude.
In addition to the persuasive evidence from the social science literature on this topic, my attitude has changed mainly due to 3 factors/experiences: moving to New York (and then London), my environmentalist awakening, and my (still cursory) exploration of Buddhism.
Before moving to New York, I had a certain idea of the good life. It involved owning a good-sized house full of nice stuff, driving nice cars, and having a "nice" (aka high-paying) job. When my wife and I moved into our first apartment after getting married, I could see I still had a long way to go. I was convinced we could only go up from there – 650 square feet, one bedroom, and an APARTMENT(!) full of BORROWED(!) furniture. I looked forward to getting more space and our own, nicer things.
When we moved to New York, we lived successively in two small, one-bedroom apartments that were, at 350 and 400 square feet, both significantly smaller than our first apartment in Provo. And we sold our car. When we moved to London, we lived in a 0 bedroom studio, and only took over what we could fit in suitcases. And we now no longer have our own place at all.
For us, living in small spaces was born of necessity. It was all we could afford. But by being financially compelled to live in smaller and smaller spaces, I learned that it was possible. I learned that I don’t need a house. I don’t need a yard. I don’t need stuff. And when we left the city on weekends to spend time with family and friends, for the first time I appreciated how living small can actually be a desirable way of life. I don't have to worry about caring for a large house. I don't have to maintain a car. I don't have to insure either. I don't have any yard work to do. I do have time to read and think. Life is simpler. I’m to the point now where I don’t even want stuff. I no longer view acquiring possessions as a goal, or even as something I think would make me happier. If anything, more stuff will likely complicate my life and make it less happy. You might call this the practical justification for minimalism.
I had also begun thinking more and more about where my stuff came from and where it went when I threw it away. When I consumed it. And it frightened me (3). I started wondering whether my consumption levels were fair to others around me and around the world. Whether, if everyone on Earth lived like I did, it would be sustainable. And even given my newfound preference for minimalism, and less and less rather than more and more, I discovered my life was not sustainable (4). Or fair. But rather far from either. This made me want even less. Not only do I not want stuff, I can’t justify it ethically or environmentally. You might call this the moral justification for minimalism.
Finally, I have gained an insight from my recent introduction to Buddhism that has been valuable to me personally. Although it seems rather intuitive, applying it in our own experience is more difficult. In a nutshell, it’s this: suffering is bad and reduces wellbeing; however, much of our suffering is self-induced. Ergo, we have the power to reduce significantly the amount of suffering we experience. (I should add a caveat – depression is real medical condition, and requires professional attention.) Meditation has helped me understand that I am not my feelings. I am not defined by my current emotional state. I can take a step back from my feelings and from my thoughts and appreciate that they well up in me as a response to stimuli. Those stimuli come from internal factors (hormones, what I ate, how well I slept) and external factors (the temperature/weather/time of day, the tone of voice of the person talking to me, who’s in my company), but ultimately they don’t define me. In fact, a current thought in neuroscience suggests the notion of a “self” is an illusion anyway (5). (What are we, anyway, but a compilation of sensory organs with a fairly unreliable memory and an imperfect reasoning ability?) The way I see it, always wanting more and then more stuff is a great way to live in a constant state of unfulfilled suffering. But if I don’t want the stuff in the first place, I don’t suffer by not having it. You might call this the spiritual justification for minimalism.
And so to me, whether it’s for practical, moral, or spiritual reasons, minimalism—the pursuit of less, not more—seems like the path to increased happiness and wellbeing. It will mean not needing to spend more money now, which will make it easier to save more. And it will mean not needing more later, which will mean not needing to save for as long.
Notes
(1) http://www.vox.com/2015/5/1/8518455/extreme-early-retirement
(2) For an introduction, see Skidelsky and Skidelsky, 2012. How Much Is Enough? Money and the Good Life.
(3) E.g., see the Story of Stuff Project (www.storyofstuff.org).
(4) See Chandler, D. (2008). Leaving our mark - MIT News Office. TechTalk, 52(23), 1,4. Retrieved from http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2008/footprint-tt0416.html.
(5) See Harris, 2014. Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion.