Sensibility As A Culmination Of Simplicity

**Note : This blog post is a revision of the one I originally posted a year ago entitled “To Simplify A Life Like Mine.” **

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Juggling two jobs for the last six years, I might not be the perfect embodiment for this subject, although I seem to be the kind of person who naturally or effortlessly falls into an austere lifestyle – more often than other people. I don’t know the exact reason why.

 Last weekend, I browsed inside a bookstore for several hours and spent a whole day’s salary to buy a Jorge Luis Borges’ classic. Such indulgence has become one of my definitions of time and money well-spent.  I have learned to exercise my privilege to yield to activities and things that inspire me – as my wisdom nowadays gets dictated by the simple pleasures I seek and perceive. But I’m aware as well it’s not what “normal” people do here, especially on a weekend.

There always has existed an ascetic soul hiding beneath me. The soul who has imagined of a charming place where I could be in the company of bohemian artists roaming around…preferably of starving bohemians who possess the mark of natural simpleness that renders good art possible. Where there’s lovely, spacious room to create and flourish. With ample time to dream. By splendid fools forever eager of fresh beginnings.

In my past, I have inevitably walked through the valleys of cosmopolitan wants and delights. Forbearance on shopping and consumerism wasn’t one of my strong suits in my earlier years – notwithstanding my lack of funds. Alas, the stuff that piled up went on to clutter my already disorderly younger mind whilst gathering dust – which I’ve perpetually disliked – inside my residence. So my mantra, when tempted by mall or store sales these days is: Abstain from collecting stuff if you don’t want to accumulate dust.

We know excessive stuff leads to chaos, and chaos derails progress. Learning my lesson well, becoming a “minimalist” has become a highly appealing concept for me in my 30s. I have not since wanted to go back to my previous lifestyle – now that I’ve reached my 40s. Really, what a gift it is to have freedom from possessions and clutter to be able to focus on the things that really matter in our daily lives. I’ve never been comfortable dealing with any kind of complications in my life anyway. Never had a desire to impress people with worldly goods as well. I’m of the belief a simple life bears no relation to the richness of your mind or personality for as long as you don’t lose that appetite for the sublime things in life.

With simplicity, you step into calm and beauty. You get to treat lonesome quiet as a friend, not as an enemy. It’s a ray of truth in my life; for my kind who guards space and privacy with relish and delight. With only one child to raise, it could have afforded me better chances to rediscover wonder in a different light. 

Most people would take a long while to come to this notion. After all, what’s thrilling about simplicity, structure and the ordinary? Or maybe it comes with maturity, even though I keep on witnessing how some “matured” people have remained trapped in their ethos of materialism. It’s true, simplifying or downsizing is still considered off the wall within the parameters of my society. We all know it is plain pointless to ram a lifestyle down anyone’s throat. And I’m saying this out of my apprehension that I might be accused of promoting a run-of-the-mill existence to anyone who’s capable of comprehending my way of life.

house photo

Try not to wince as I describe the present interiors of my tiny apartment – where you can find only the bare necessities of standard living: a refrigerator, a washing machine, two beds (I live with my son), a couple of medium-sized cabinets, a dresser, and an oven. My dining table and chairs are even foldable so they won’t take considerable space (Can’t risk taking on a single sofa. I’ve a cat. Visitors also sit on chairs). A television set? Sure I’ve got one (a very old model by the way). But it rarely gets turned on – and I’m not blowing smoke up anyone’s ass by saying that – because my son and I are truly non-TV citizens around here. Ditto for owning expensive jewelry, clothes, accessories and whatnot which never was my style. Admittedly though, my battle remains with the plentiful of outgrown reading materials that I need to discard.

Travelling with heavy luggage is a no-no for me. And do hold your breath for this: I haven’t had a car for years now. I gave my last vehicle – which by the way had given me supreme hassles – to my sister in exchange for the rent-free abode she has let me enjoyed for so long (Yes, she owns my current digs. And of course she sold the car). Which means I’ve no problem being a jeepney rider all the time.  

Indeed I walk my talk – for the single reason that I am contented despite the dearth of luxuries in my present existence. I ain’t complaining at all.

Sensibility is the culmination of simplicity in the art of daily living. How I believe that.

Great people can alter their lives at will so they can better make clear and rational choices about the substance and direction of their lives. It’s not like I’m a great person – albeit I wish I were. So perhaps I’ll try to be one?

Or maybe I just was really a monk in a previous life.

Not that bad an idea.

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To Simplify A Life Like Mine

Long long ago, like any other twenty-something, I was trapped in the ethos of materialism. Accumulating unnecessary stuff which I had mistaken as a prerequisite for my own supposed state of euphoria got a little out of control. And even if I was already aware of my corporeal inclinations, I couldn’t stop collecting anything that caught my fancy at stores or from my relatives’ hand-me -downs. Notwithstanding my lack of funds, forbearance on shopping wasn’t one of my strong suits either. Eventually, all the stuff that piled up went on to clutter my already disorderly younger mind whilst gathering dust inside my house.

Learning my lesson well, becoming a dyed-in-the-wool minimalist has become a top priority for me which makes a whole world of difference now. The realization that I can be contented even without a car or a big home with fancy furnishings is quite liberating. I don’t know. If I were rich, would I be singing a different tune? One thing you should know about me, I’m not sure if I can handle the trappings of material wealth. I’ve never been comfortable dealing with any kind of complications in my life anyway.

A simple life isn’t for everyone. Most people might take a long while to come to the idea and it’s especially considered off the wall within the parameters of my society. Whenever I pass on this particular wisdom to people of this gen Y and even to some older folks here, they look at me as though I’ve just arrived from another dimension. I guess it is always pointless ramming a lifestyle down anyone’s throat.

Walk my talk. So if you peek inside my tiny apartment, you can find only the bare necessities. A refrigerator, a washing machine, two beds (I live with my son), a couple of cabinets and an oven. My dining table and chairs are even foldable so they won’t take considerable space. A television set? Sure I’ve got one (a very old model by the way). But it never gets turned on. And I’m not blowing smoke up anyone’s ass by saying that because my son and I are truly non-TV citizens around here. Owning expensive jewelry, clothes, accessories and whatnot was never my style. I’d rather spend my money inside a bookstore on reading materials that interest me. One thing I can’t live without though in these times is my netbook. Yep, I don’t wish for an Ipad or the latest in cell phones. What I simply need is just a portable computer for perusing internet materials, storing information and of course, writing (I could only work with the traditional keyboard, not the touchscreen kind).

I’m of the belief a Spartan life bears no relation to the richness of your mind or personality as long as you don’t lose that appetite for the sublime things in life. I say this out of my apprehension that I just might be accused of promoting a run of the mill existence. Guilty or not, rest assured, the greatest reward of downsizing is the liberty it will bestow upon you. Freedom from possessions and clutter to be able to focus on the things that really matter to you. Now if you’re gonna tell me that owning a lot of fancy things is your cup of tea, I can’t help you much and you should stop reading this at once.

When it comes to becoming an emotional minimalist, umm, that is another story. I’m at an age where melancholy and rapture can coexist peacefully inside of me. I may be a tough nut to crack and yet I’d be the first to run for cover when confronted with strong messy feelings. Attachment can likewise be my downfall anytime of the day. But as I told you, I’m a never ending work-in-progress so maybe there’s still hope for this old soul of mine.

This is gonna be controversial, but barring people from my life who make me miserable helps immensely. Sometimes, I’m left with no other choice. Sure I get lonely for doing that, although the painful process has somehow given me more clarity and purity on who I am and what I really want out of my existence.

Great people can change their lives at will so they can better make clear and rational choices about the substance and direction of their lives. It’s not like I’m a great person albeit I wish I were. So perhaps I’ll try to be one.

And you know what? Simplifying my life actually makes me feel like I’m bound for the stars. Can there be anything more awesome than that?