Minimalism – Field Trip Notebook

Making Space for Abundance

(If you came here from No Sidebar, thank you and welcome! I love comments. I also write postcards from, well, wherever we are at https://launaatlarge.substack.com/.)

Recently I heard someone use the word abundance to explain why minimalism is not for her. I want a life of abundance, she said. Such a beautiful, positive word. Me too, I thought.

I can see what she means. She’s not the only person I’ve heard speak of minimalism like this, as the opposite of abundance and all that word implies of ample everything, handfuls of plenty, big bouquets of living large. It gave me pause to consider that these two words might be on opposite sides of a spectrum. And yet here I am with very few possessions in the minimalist life I have chosen. How do I square minimalism with a yearning for abundance? Is it true that they are mutually exclusive?

The Case for a Modest Wedding

I recently saw an old friend who had just returned from a destination wedding on the Mayan Riviera. When I asked about it, he handed me his phone so I could flip through the photos.

A beautiful wedding. It cost a lot.

A lot.

What looks like a wedding ring is actually a time machine. Each time I look at that tiny diamond, I’m reminded of how long we’ve been together and how far we’ve come. I wouldn’t “trade it up” for anything.

This blog is about minimalism and travel, so it may feel a little off-topic to tread into the shark-infested waters of wedding costs. But stay with me on this: a decision against a dream wedding, opting for a modest wedding instead, could be the beginning of a dream life.

Three Questions to Resist the Call of Beautiful Things

(Update: Many thanks to the folks at No Sidebar for publishing this piece today.)

Lovely objects still turn my head, even long after I’ve become a minimalist.

This surprised me at first. Shouldn’t I be over all those shopping urges by now?

Favorites

The first section of our nomadic lives was driving around the US. We had our streamlined nomadic luggage, but we also had stuff in the car–food, extra clothes, spare shoes, all kinds of this and that.

So the real test has been these last two weeks in Sofia and Plovdiv, Bulgaria, when we each have a carry-on suitcase and a backpack and that’s it.

A Countable Number of Things

No Side Bar just published a piece I wrote called Transforming Stuff Into a Countable Number. Many thanks to the editors there! I’ve found a lot of wisdom on that site and appreciate having my writing alongside pieces I’ve admired. Go see why I put an image of the ocean here, then come back to comment if you’d like.

Thanks for reading, and by the way, I love comments. Bookmark fieldtripnotebook.com for more on travel, minimalism, books, public transportation, and hikes. For daily postcards from, well, wherever we are, subscribe to launaatlarge.substack.com.

How to Let Go of Your Stuff in Just 33 Easy Steps!

1. Create a motivation and a deadline. Sell or rent your house, buy a non-refundable one-way airline ticket to Bulgaria, etc. Do not skip this step!

2. Clear some time on your schedule. More time that you think.

Decluttering? Start Big

We’ve been selling and giving away our things for over a year now, and we’re almost done. The renters for our now too-big house will be here soon, and the few possessions we have left will fit into a small storage container.

The Slow Art of Letting Stuff Go

We’re giving away our things, and it’s taking time.

So much time.

*Regarding having no possessions, this sloth is way ahead of me.*

Beliefs About Stuff that I’m Letting Go

Many thanks to No Side Bar for publishing my piece today on the beliefs I’m uncovering (and letting go) as I unload possessions.

You can read it here.

And, let’s admire this lovely empty closet. Beautiful, right?

On the Gravitational Pull of Things

The plan is to travel. Our children are grown, and we’re coming up to our last day of working full time. To get out there, we’re renting out this house and unloading its contents, ready to step into the next season of our lives with lighter luggage.

So, we must deal with things.

I walk through the rooms of our suburban house and inventory the objects, organize them into stacks, plot their disbursement. Sometimes, in a burst, I’ll unload a great deal at once. Sometimes, objects persist.

For example, this gargoyle.