EXPRESS WITH LESS

Chapter One: What Is Minimalism? Minimalism. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word minimalism has four syllables. Some pronounce it with five. None-the-less, pun intended, it's a movement that's been around for a while. In the many dictionaries of which I have checked the meaning of minimalism, it varies slightly from book to book. But I think the author Joshua Becker describes minimalism best. He states, "Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it." I like that simplistic explanation. Minimalism speaks to each of its followers in a slightly different way, but the goals are the same. I respectfully acknowledge those who are not minimalists, and I make no judgments. I say "summ cuique," "to each his own." But I must assume, because you are reading this, one of three things. Either you are intending to become a minimalist, or you are curious about it, or you are a member of my family. So, for whatever reason you are here with me in this book, I am sharing with you my own experiences with minimalism and imparting what I have learned along the way. I know I am still a work in progress. What started as two books, a memoir and a book on minimalism, has merged into one. After writing parts of both, I realized minimalism has always been an underlying theme in my life. It just took time to "materialize." Funny choice of words, I know, for an "aspiring minimalist." I think it is essential for me to know how I came to be this aspiring minimalist. Novelist James Baldwin wrote, "Know from whence you came. If you know from whence you came, there are absolutely no limitations to where you can go." So, in sharing with you're the back story of my road to minimalism, I can move forward with it in a positive way. In Junior High, my most valued material possessions were my four-inch photos taken with my Brownie camera, my scratchy cassette tapes, that I recorded of friends and family, along with the tape recorder. I still have those tapes today but not the tape-recorder. I have had most of the recordings transferred to CD's, but as yet haven't gotten rid of the originals. I also had a portable record player and albums from groups like the "Beatles" and "The Association," and soundtracks from "Camelot" and "Man of La Mancha," among others. I don't have the record player anymore, but I do have the albums. Most anything that I have kept from childhood in the way of material things has a story behind them. They mean something significant to me. They make me smile. Those little treasures that hold substantial memories are things I keep. The tchotchkes that we have all bought without giving it much thought are out. You might think they are small and don't count, but they add up and begin to hinder us. I have never really put great value in most material things, but as you will learn when you read further, I went through a "gathering stage" as so many of us do in adulthood. Once you are a gatherer, if you don't rein it in, your things will begin to multiply quickly. Some might have thought that my grandmother Cordia Cook was a gatherer. And I suppose in certain respects she was. I've even been known to say that my Grandma Cook saved everything. However, certain aspects of her life were minimalistic. Case in point, I heard my mom say to my Grandma Cook once, "Would you like another piece of pie?" and my grandmother's reply was, "I don't need another piece." She had made that decision thoughtfully, with respect to what would be best for her health and well-being. All of Grandma Cook's choices were well thought out, and she did nothing to excess. She and my granddad, Ralph Cook, moved to Florida in 1925. They bought a very modest wood-framed house on the south side of town, built in the same decade. There was no air conditioning. The wood floors had area rugs. And from the front porch to the back door was a straight shot which made for excellent ventilation back then. Her home had three bedrooms and one bath, but probably only about 800 square feet. However, it was lovely. Being a product of the Great Depression of the 1920s and 1930s, my grandmother was a very frugal woman. She and granddad Cook had a small inheritance, and they used that wisely to buy a second house to rent out. It was a smart move. For the forty-plus years Cordia and Ralph lived in that house, my grandmother made more soap from grease she had saved than anyone could count. She used the guavas from the trees in her backyard to make guava jelly. Her neighbors were the recipients of much of that soap and guava jelly. She sewed all of her clothes by hand as well as many outfits for her grandkids. Grandma Cook searched out fabric bargains at Webb City, (tagged at the time as the "World's Most Unusual Drug Store") and the Five and Dime. Never did my Grandma leave a room that she didn't turn the lights out. Something I do obnoxiously today. Grandma Cook wasted nothing. She even boiled water for her bath. When I was a little girl spending the night at her house, I thought she boiled water for my bath because she didn't have a water heater. I wasn't any the wiser until I grew older. She just thought she was saving money by boiling water for her bath. If I went to Grandma Cook's for a visit and wanted to draw or color, she would give me a paper bag as my canvas. That was re-cycling before its time. Minimalism comes in all forms. My Grandma Cook was an example of one. My grandmother's house was neat and tidy. And she knew how to save a buck. But, at the same time, she did have dressers full of scraps of material, thread, string, buttons, and more items that she used in her sewing. The keyword here is "used." Those things had a purpose. She never spent to excess, overate, or bought things she didn't need or want. So many people hear the word minimalism, and they immediately think only of material items. They forget that everyday life choices are also a part of minimalism. It truly is a mindset. My grandmother Cook's philosophy about living has stuck with me to this day. My mother, not surprisingly, had many of the same traits as my grandmother, her mother. She was a great cook, a terrific seamstress and managed the household pretty much the same as her mother. I learned by example, the value of a dollar and to appreciate things. Whether it was the blue bicycle, I got for Christmas when I was seven years old, or my little 1950's record player with my 45 rpm records of "The Beatles," I took care of my things. And I was happy with what I had. I didn't pine for more. Through watching the way our parents and grandparents lived, my siblings and I learned what things were most important in life; family, friends, respect, and a love of learning. Yes, we had material things, but they didn't hold the value that the intangibles held. So, it seems that I have always been a minimalistic. Right? Not exactly. I was minimalistic in my early years, but as you will read, I strayed from the movement, only to come back to it even stronger. In the following chapters, I will share my journey with you. Please keep in mind what minimalism looks like to me and what you perceive it to be could conceivably be different. The core concepts will be similar, but how we get there and how we practice it could be worlds apart. For example, if you and I bought identical homes, I dare say in one year they would not look the same. Maybe you would paint your home white, while I would paint mine pink. Perhaps you would tear out a wall, and I would add a wall. You get the idea. We would have started with the same blueprint but tweaked it to our liking. Minimalism isn't a cookie-cutter idea. You can make minimalism your own. You and I will probably end up with the same beliefs, but how we get there might be different.