Simplifying life is addictive. Minimalism is like a drug. Sometimes a small ‘sample’ is all it takes to spark a full-on decluttering episode. I am currently in the throws of one such psychedelic experience. The ‘minimalist high’?
This compulsion for greater simplicity seems to come on the heels of the discovery — or the rediscovery — that less is, usually, quite more.
Then comes the realization that there might be more happiness to be found in a drop off run to the donation centre than in a trip to the shopping mall.
It is the epiphany that the ‘good life’ is probably more of a result of deleting apps, not adding more of them.
The search for simplicity is simply questioning what is truly necessary and then jettisoning the complicated, superfluous baggage that is getting in the way.