By Dave Baldwin
I used to love buying shiny new toys. Growing up, there was nothing I loved more than unwrapping a new gift. I liked electronic toys that had moving parts. Whenever I had money, I'd always gravitate toward stuff I could spend it on.
As I grew up, I noticed that new toys didn’t stay as fun. I got a boom box for my ninth birthday. For a week, I admired the shape of its buttons. Music sounded more beautiful than it ever had before. But within a few months, the boom box was just another toy.
Video and computer games were my biggest downfall. For instance, I bought Jungle Hunt for the Atari 2600. Taking the plastic wrap off of the package was an intoxicating and surreal experience. But on the day when my friend showed me Nintendo for the first time, Atari was forgotten. Flying square spaceships around the screen with a joystick no longer held the appeal once I’d experienced Super Mario Brothers, Kung Fu, Excitebike and Duck Hunt. When I got my own Nintendo, each successive game cartridge went through the same life cycle. It was thrilling at first, but slowly became devoid of any appeal.
In my early twenties, I discovered computers. I became a junkie for continual upgrades, buying faster and better hard drives, video cards and microprocessors. Every time I turned on a new computer, it felt lightning fast. My current computer always seemed too slow, and the only logical solution was to go out and spend money on a better computer. Once, I had nearly paid off my credit card when I decided to buy a new gaming PC, complete with a screaming-fast 266 MHz Pentium processor and an 8GB hard drive! The more money I made, the more I spent.
The Path to Minimalism
Becoming a minimalist happened gradually over a period of years. However, there were a number of events that influenced me.
Fifteen years ago, I was laid off from my job at a factory. I could no longer afford to blow money on computers and electronics. I had an alarming realization: I needed to pay off my debt that I’d accumulated from my high-paying job. What?! If I was making good money, shouldn’t I have accumulated savings instead of racking up debt?
A year later, I moved in with my father and moved a bunch of my stuff into a storage unit. Over the next several months, I asked myself why I was paying $92 per month to store things I wasn’t using. I later got rid of the storage unit. Everything inside it had to come into the house with me or leave. A lot of it left, and I didn’t miss it!
From 2004 to 2007, I travelled full-time for my job. At one point, it occurred to me that my suitcase was big enough to hold everything I needed and more. I started reading articles about minimalism. I questioned why so many people feel the need to accumulate so many possessions.
A decade ago, when I was making preparations for my move to Raleigh from Pennsylvania, I explored the boxes that I had moved with me several times without opening or using any of them. I decided that none of these items were coming to Raleigh. I donated several items and sold the rest on Ebay. When I arrived in Raleigh, it took me just over an hour to move everything into my house.
In the last 9 years, I’ve moved 10 times. Each time I moved, I widdled down my possessions even further. I’m now at a point where I can fit everything I own in 2 carloads. If I had to move cross-country, it would not be difficult to trim down to a single carload.
Less = Greater Quality of Life
Over time, my values have evolved. I used to get a thrill from buying new things, but I’ve found that new toys don’t bring lasting happiness. I’ve realized that the monthly payment on a car will last a lot longer than the “new car smell” does. It is far more important to me to have the flexibility to move around—and the more I own, the harder it is to move. Any time I look at a new physical possession that I might buy, the first thing I think about is how much it weighs and the amount of space it will take up.
If I am going to blow money, I’d rather spend it on quality time with good friends. I used to be tempted when I saw a new electronic gadget in a display case or a new video game. Now, I’m much more tempted when a friend asks if I’m free to get together for dinner. I’ve made the conscious choice to indulge something that adds to my quality of life rather than adding to my collection of stuff.
I didn’t make any single decision to stop over-spending; I just became increasingly aware of what was important to me. The same basic thing happened when I stopped smoking. My willpower is still weak. But rather than trying to suppress my desire for something, I focus my attention on something that I desire even more. I’m much happier for it.
As I grew up, I noticed that new toys didn’t stay as fun. I got a boom box for my ninth birthday. For a week, I admired the shape of its buttons. Music sounded more beautiful than it ever had before. But within a few months, the boom box was just another toy.
Video and computer games were my biggest downfall. For instance, I bought Jungle Hunt for the Atari 2600. Taking the plastic wrap off of the package was an intoxicating and surreal experience. But on the day when my friend showed me Nintendo for the first time, Atari was forgotten. Flying square spaceships around the screen with a joystick no longer held the appeal once I’d experienced Super Mario Brothers, Kung Fu, Excitebike and Duck Hunt. When I got my own Nintendo, each successive game cartridge went through the same life cycle. It was thrilling at first, but slowly became devoid of any appeal.
In my early twenties, I discovered computers. I became a junkie for continual upgrades, buying faster and better hard drives, video cards and microprocessors. Every time I turned on a new computer, it felt lightning fast. My current computer always seemed too slow, and the only logical solution was to go out and spend money on a better computer. Once, I had nearly paid off my credit card when I decided to buy a new gaming PC, complete with a screaming-fast 266 MHz Pentium processor and an 8GB hard drive! The more money I made, the more I spent.
The Path to Minimalism
Becoming a minimalist happened gradually over a period of years. However, there were a number of events that influenced me.
Fifteen years ago, I was laid off from my job at a factory. I could no longer afford to blow money on computers and electronics. I had an alarming realization: I needed to pay off my debt that I’d accumulated from my high-paying job. What?! If I was making good money, shouldn’t I have accumulated savings instead of racking up debt?
A year later, I moved in with my father and moved a bunch of my stuff into a storage unit. Over the next several months, I asked myself why I was paying $92 per month to store things I wasn’t using. I later got rid of the storage unit. Everything inside it had to come into the house with me or leave. A lot of it left, and I didn’t miss it!
From 2004 to 2007, I travelled full-time for my job. At one point, it occurred to me that my suitcase was big enough to hold everything I needed and more. I started reading articles about minimalism. I questioned why so many people feel the need to accumulate so many possessions.
A decade ago, when I was making preparations for my move to Raleigh from Pennsylvania, I explored the boxes that I had moved with me several times without opening or using any of them. I decided that none of these items were coming to Raleigh. I donated several items and sold the rest on Ebay. When I arrived in Raleigh, it took me just over an hour to move everything into my house.
In the last 9 years, I’ve moved 10 times. Each time I moved, I widdled down my possessions even further. I’m now at a point where I can fit everything I own in 2 carloads. If I had to move cross-country, it would not be difficult to trim down to a single carload.
Less = Greater Quality of Life
Over time, my values have evolved. I used to get a thrill from buying new things, but I’ve found that new toys don’t bring lasting happiness. I’ve realized that the monthly payment on a car will last a lot longer than the “new car smell” does. It is far more important to me to have the flexibility to move around—and the more I own, the harder it is to move. Any time I look at a new physical possession that I might buy, the first thing I think about is how much it weighs and the amount of space it will take up.
If I am going to blow money, I’d rather spend it on quality time with good friends. I used to be tempted when I saw a new electronic gadget in a display case or a new video game. Now, I’m much more tempted when a friend asks if I’m free to get together for dinner. I’ve made the conscious choice to indulge something that adds to my quality of life rather than adding to my collection of stuff.
I didn’t make any single decision to stop over-spending; I just became increasingly aware of what was important to me. The same basic thing happened when I stopped smoking. My willpower is still weak. But rather than trying to suppress my desire for something, I focus my attention on something that I desire even more. I’m much happier for it.