The Minimalist Millennial

That would be me, the minimalist millennial. I was born in ’87. And right now, currently, in 2017, I look round me at all my possessions, and can count on 2 hands everything I own.

I’ve been forced into this life, my reality. I see it so anyway. By the decisions I’ve made evading those other beaten paths. Which paths lead straight off a cliff, I’m convinced—straight to death, all distracted by all the plastic scenery along the way.

There’s no opportunity for me out there—modern industry, consuming. I’m to create my own way instead. Or else wither away. And I’ve yet to wither, as proof. Though I’ve only just discovered—one foot for safety always previously dipped into that life I denounce.

As a minimalist, my distractions are removed. I have nothing, stripped of possessions. I’m chained to nothing because, a form of freedom. Creation is my only concern. It’s all I have to do.

Indeed, it’s all there’s to do anyway, is to create. We humans are here to create, not consume, I’ve seen it wrote. And I firmly believe.

It was Vonnegut who said, that we’re here just to fart round, we humans. Which sounds nice—peaceful at least. But adding to that some creation brings fulfillment, and contentment. Which is a higher order of happiness. Which happiness is the goal—or so we’ve been told.

I think back to when I was a kid. I loved action figures so much—X-Men, Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles. So excited I’d be at the toy store, searching up and down the aisles for a new action figure. I’d buy it. And I’d be so excited on the car ride home. Unpackaging the thing was the best part. But by 2 days later, it’s under the bed, already forgotten, the new action figure, old. And I’m already dreaming of the next one I’ll buy, the next time I go to the toy store. I was too young to realize then. But I see now. I get no satisfaction from trinkets.

Or like the nephew is finally learning. A room full of toys he has. I’ve never seen so many, even at the toy store. It’s raining outside. And he is playing soccer in the living room with an empty box of kleenex.

It’s not things that give us happiness. Though it’s things waved in front of us day in and out. Buy this, buy this, buy that. Go to work, to pay for all this stuff to buy.

It’s creation that fulfills us most.

Fulfilled, we become content.

Content, and we are happy.

So all I have is all I need to survive. Which is to eat and sleep and stay warm. And all else I might have is what I need to create. The rest is waste. And into the trash it goes at the earliest convenience.

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