A Little MS with a Little MSW

A tiny minimalist lives inside me.

She loves tiny homes. She gravitates towards them when searching for Airbnbs. She rents them and gets excited about them and then has a near death experience on every descent down the tiny little stairs.

I would love for her to grow bigger and extend the minimalism to my closet, but I love thrifting and unique boho attire more than I love the idea of a capsule wardrobe. Classy versus artsy is a constant struggle. My inner hippie isn’t as big on peace as she should be and often beats the tiny minimalist into submission.

I am a sentimental soul, which is contraindicated for minimalism. 10/10 do not recommend. I can’t imagine parting with my children’s construction paper and popsicle stick creations. My sister took a picture of most of hers before disposing of them, each one worth a thousand words, I guess, but the tactile experience of holding the actual object in hand is felt as bodily sensations that outsmart even the most robust dictionary known to man.

This is the challenge of every writer, though: to evoke a sensory experience in the reader that is most often born of the improvisation of daily lived experience. The senses are the most powerful thing we possess. I guess my biggest beef with minimalism is that it has the potential to infringe upon our ability to experience the most joyous parts of our lives through our senses.

I encourage you to take the picture… but also buy the perfume, stock your pantry with your favorite foods, wrap yourself in your favorite fabric, run your fingers over the decades-old popsicle sticks and wrinkled construction paper. The best things in life are not material, but the power of the material to create and re-create our most joyous felt sensations must not be overlooked.