Pessimists are simple people who want to lead simple lives. We try to avoid complexity and entanglements. So while Owl will attempt complex spellings like HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUDY Eeyore is content to contemplate the letter A. I suppose for some pessimists this simplicity has a deep philosophical or religious basis. Some seek simplicity in a monastery or a convent. But most of us try to find simplicity off in our corner of the forest. Bogs are a good place to lead simple, uncluttered lives. And for us the attraction of minimalism is not so much philosophical and religious, but practical and aesthetic.
There are three principles of minimalism:
- Quality,
- Order,
- Number.
And in that order. Quality is a term so over-used that it has lost much of its meaning. The first feature of quality is that it works. It does what it is supposed to do. And it does it well. It does not make broad sweeping claims that it cannot fulfill and it does not pretend to be what it is not. It does its job quietly and effectively without a lot of huffing and puffing, without a lot of theatrics. It is reliable. It works year in and year out, when it rains and when the sun shines. And when it does break, as everything eventually does, it is easy to repair. Pooh is a bear of quality. Owl is a little questionable.
Minimalists avoid junk like the plague.
Order is a little harder to pin down. Like many things, it is most easily characterized by its opposite — chaos. Chaos is what happens when you do nothing. Even if you start with order, you can get to chaos, usually in a hurry, by doing nothing. Scientists have formalized this universal characteristic of matter in the laws of thermodynamics and created a metric for it called entropy. People with children don’t need to study thermodynamics to know that everything has a natural tendency to disorder and that it takes energy and constant vigilance to preserve order. They know all too well what entropy means.
A simple box for storing toys illustrates an important principle of order. In engineering disciplines it is called modularity. Once you get all the toys in the toy box you can then treat it as a single thing. You can move it into the closet, put it in the basement, or give it to the Salvation Army as a single item. You don’t really need to know the details about what’s inside when you put it in the closet. In fact, you probably really don’t want to know what’s inside.
Another example of modularity is a library. Libraries illustrate another principle of order called structure. A library is not just a container for a pile of books like the toy box is a container for a pile of toys. The library has an internal organization and structure. When things are organized in logical structures they become a new kind of thing. A library has useful characteristics not found in a pile of books. You can find things in a library. You can lend out books and keep track of who has them. You have a place where Christopher Robin can go to learn something.
It is the logical organization and structure that creates order and makes a useful new thing. A set of woodworking tools can be organized into a shop which, as a whole, becomes a useful tool for making things. But without that organization and structure, the same set of woodworking tools is just a pile of tools. The shop is ordered, coherent, and simple. The pile of tools is cluttered, incoherent, and complex. Simplifying your life does not necessarily mean throwing away everything in your garage. It may be more a matter of organizing and establishing some order.
Order is sometimes interpreted as harsh, utilitarian, and geometric. The formal gardens of Versailles come to mind. Lots of right angles and shrubs trimmed to precise geometric shapes. But order need not be geometric and sterile, it can be organic. There is just as much order in an English country garden. It is more natural, warmer, charming, and a much nicer place to take afternoon tea. Order does not mean having 100 boxes all the same size and shape and forcing every piece into one of the boxes. It does not have to be exact and rigid. The critical feature is that the parts work together and make up a coherent whole. Natural organisms are the best example of order that we have. When you stop to think about it, the number of parts that work together in a human being, or a donkey, dwarfs the number of parts in the largest man-made machine. Organic is not the opposite of order, but its highest goal.
The third principle of minimalism is number. This is the most obvious and some people think minimalism is nothing more than minimizing the number of things and people that you have to deal with. In fact, number is the least important of the principles of minimalism, but it is still very important. Why have two if one will do? Quality is expensive, so having two usually means that they are both of inferior quality. One good one is usually a lot more useful, easier to care for, easier to store, and easier to use.
There is also a danger in buying things that are too specialized. Gadgets. The difference between a gadget and a tool is that a tool will usually work for a wide variety of purposes or in a variety of circumstances. Gadgets are very specific and useful only for a certain job. There are occasions when a specialized gadget is needed because no general purpose tool will do the job. But in many cases gadgets are not worth the trouble. Gadgets are like mice. Once they get started in your closets, they start to breed. Pretty soon they take over your whole house. A more general tool may work almost as well. Most gadgets are created by marketing departments so that you will have something to buy your Mother-in-law for her birthday. Minimalists hate gadgets as much as Tiggers hate honey. Unfortunately, some of us, like Tigger, only realize this too late.
The final question to ask yourself is if you need one of these things at all. It may well be that everyone else has one, or lots of them. But that does not mean that you need or want one. With the less than altruistic help of the advertisers of the world we have all come to believe that having more stuff will make us happier. Things are supposed to give us status and excitement. It is almost never true. It all has to be stored somewhere. It all breaks and has to be fixed or gets dirty and has to be washed. It is just one more thing to worry about. For many people the happiest day of their life is not when they finally get that boat they have always thought they wanted, but when they finally sell it — at a big loss.
The three principles of minimalism apply to three domains:
- People
- Things
- Aesthetics
The choice of the people we deal with is the most important choice of our lives. The most important factor to look for is quality. Minimalists look for people who are what they claim to be, who make a contribution to those around them, and who are constant and true. The famous, powerful, and rich sometimes start to feel that the normal rules of behavior don’t apply to them. They come to believe that they are “exceptional” and therefore not subject to the same rules as “normal” people. This elitism can show up at almost any level in almost any domain. You find people who think of themselves as the elite in government, business, academics, professional societies, in knitting circles. It is usually best to avoid those who think of themselves as elite. They are usually more interested in image than substance and with domination than friendship.
Also avoid all men with gold chains and women with tattoos.
Minimalists should also avoid people who leave chaos in their wake. Who wander through rooms and lives creating one mess after another. Never stopping to clean up after themselves. A little exuberance is OK. In fact, for us pessimists, it is a nice change. So you can have maybe one Tigger in your life. But that is the limit.
A little variety is good too. If all your friends and colleagues are just like you, your life is likely to be pretty boring. Particularly if you are a pessimist. Pessimism is a counterbalance to life. A spice. A steady diet of it is dead boring. If the whole forest had been populated with Eeyores, Christopher Robin would have ended up in therapy.
Sometimes it is nice to have someone to learn from and someone to teach. Someone to go to foreign films with and someone to go fishing with. Someone to jog with and someone to sneak out to the ice cream shop with. Someone to go to church with and someone to love.
With people as with everything else, minimalists try to keep the sheer numbers down. A few good friends is what you are after. Too often we treat our friends like a spoiled child treats a new toy. Today it is the best thing in the world and the object of every drop of love and attention. Tomorrow it is forgotten in a corner under the bed. Minimalists try to cultivate life long friendships that grow and refine as they age like a well cared for garden. The gardeners at the office complex where I used to work did brute force gardening. If something was not doing well, they pulled it up and planted a new one. Never mind trying to figure out what the problem was. Just pull it up and replace it. In stark contrast, one of the gardeners at a Cambridge college was asked how he kept the lawns so smooth and green. “It is simple,” he said, “You just roll and mow it for 400 years.” Today’s trend towards the disposable and replaceable tends to apply to people as well. At the first sign of yellow around the edges we pull them up and throw them away. But quality friendships take years of rolling and mowing.
The second important choice we make in our lives are the things. Houses, cars, clothes, computers, sail boats, skis, etc. It is not that the things themselves are that important. They usually aren’t. It is that the wrong things, or more often, too many things can intrude on our lives and ruin them. How many people do you know who are working two jobs so they can afford the RV which they can never use because they are working two jobs? Or who spend every fourth Saturday cleaning the garage. Far too much of our lives are oriented to lusting after, buying, using, maintaining, and finally trying to get rid of things. Of all of the promises of Christianity, the one I find the most comforting is “You can’t take it with you.” Free at last.
One of my minimalist heroes is Dr. Elliot Butler. He was my professor for freshman chemistry and my wife’s boss as the chairman of the chemistry department. He loved clarity and precision. The first thing you noticed about Dr. Butler was the way he talked. His English was so proper and articulate that it immediately grabbed your attention. It was like BBC English without the accent. Not what you would expect from someone from a hick town in Arizona. But it was saved from being pedantic by his insight, understanding, and wisdom. When it came time for my wife and I to get married he gave us two pieces of advice. The first was to be very careful about taking advice from anyone. We have been very good at that. The second piece of advice was to put out more garbage on Wednesday than you take in during the week. Despite occasional strenuous efforts, we haven’t done very well with this one.
When it comes to things we almost always forget the key structural questions. How will this thing fit into my life? How will it make my life better? Does it replace some other thing that I can now throw away? Does that other thing really need replacing? How long until it breaks or goes out of style? Where can I get it fixed? And the all important — Where will I put it? Of course, you have to be a little careful asking yourself all these question or you can end up like me. Consumer block. Sometimes it takes me twenty minutes to decide on a can of soup. A new car can take years. And I have given up on clothes altogether, much to the dismay of my family.
And finally, minimalism is an aesthetic choice. Minimalist love quality. The cheap ones like me, especially love quality at a bargain price. We love workmanship and craftsmanship. And we get ecstatic over the handmade.
I can’t think of craftsmanship and quality without thinking of our friend, an old Swiss master craftsman named Andre. Every time we visit Andre, to take him a loaf of my wife’s bread or a Christmas goodie, we get a tour of his house. The house started out as a rather ugly 60’s style ranch, but it has slowly been transformed into an authentic French Swiss country house. It is like walking into a fairy tale. Nothing is straight, but everything fits. It is whimsical and solid. Magic and magnificent. And Andre himself is no less magical with his white hair and beard, his short round body, and the iron grip of his handshake. The twinkle in his eye enchants you as he leads you away into a world of hand carved beams, hand forged iron doors, hand painted woodwork, and inlaid leather floors. A world where there is absolutely no compromise in quality and craftsmanship. And through his heavy French accent, there shines a soul as honest and direct as his designs. A quality every bit as high as the quality of his workmanship. An enchanting old world craftsman who completes and is completed by the enchanting house he lives in.
Minimalist like things that fit together. Pieces that complement each other. Harmony. It is often the interplay between the parts that makes a piece of music, a sculpture, a painting, or a tool interesting or even beautiful. I once had a chance to travel in Europe with one of my friends from work. Lewie fixes things. If you have anything that is broken or about to break, you try to lend it to Lewie because it will always come back fixed. And when Lewie fixed it, it was not just as good as new, but better. It was interesting to walk through the Rijksmuseum with Lewie since he had a keen artistic sense and a special feeling for design. But the most fun was watching Lewie in a Dutch hardware shop. The Rembrants and Burghers interested him, but the door knobs made his eyes light up. He could not get over the quality of the design, the craftsmanship, and the fit. He was like a kid in a candy shop. Lewie, of course, is a pessimist.
Minimalists also like simple classic lines. We prefer a string quartet to a full symphony, a Greek temple to a baroque gothic cathedral. We like cottages better than palaces and deserts better than jungles. The ornate leaves us cold. The pompous and overblown irritates us. The simple and elegant lifts our spirit. Of course, as pessimists we realize that we have no claim to artistic truth here. The simple and sublime are merely our tastes. To each his own, but we prefer ours to be carefully designed, carefully crafted, and elegantly simple.
Minimalism is an attempt to strip life down to its essentials and get rid of all of the unnecessary junk that tends to clutter up our lives. It goes well with pessimism because pessimists tend to think that there is indeed a lot of junk in our lives. But minimalism is ultimately just a choice, a strategy for trying to get through life and get the most out of it. A way of trying to minimize pain and find fulfillment. It is not for everyone. But some of us like it.
It probably won’t help much.
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