Stuff is friction

Everything I own fits in a 45L backpack.

A year ago, Tony and I sold our car, ended our lease in Philadelphia, and set out to travel with no home base. Two boxes of sentimental items stayed with our parents. Everything else found a new home.

Since then, we’ve visited more than 15 countries with no more than what we could carry.

There’s nothing waiting somewhere for us to swap things out with. No closet to return to, no checked roller bags to drag around with us.

When we were selling and donating our belongings, I originally thought I would miss my things. I accepted that as the trade-off for being mobile.

But the reality has been the opposite. We live comfortably with what we can carry, and I can’t remember a time when I specifically missed something I got rid of. Honestly, I could hardly keep track of what I owned when it was all in our apartment.

Now, I can’t name three things I sold that I wish I still had. In getting rid of “stuff,” we created room to move flexibly and think clearly.

The antagonist is all the small things threatening to creep back in. A pair of shoes I got for a wedding but don’t need. A second jacket “just in case.”

Minimalist living is the enabler, flexible living is the reward.

Stuff is friction.