In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Philip K. Dick imagines a world overflowing with “kipple,” useless objects like junk mail, old lightbulbs, depleted batteries, and gum wrappers that reproduce when no one’s around. It’s a dreary, depressing vision of the future.
Things aren’t that bad yet, but at the very least, a lot of us have a problem with stuff—hence the rise of minimalism and the increasing popularity of a minimalist lifestyle and minimalist aesthetics.
The idea is straightforward on the surface: make a concerted effort to declutter, remove non-essentials, and simplify your life. Doing so frees up physical and mental space, and it opens up a path to greater financial freedom and, ultimately, peace and happiness. Or so they say.
How Does Minimalism Jibe with the Primal Blueprint?
Readers of my blog are already familiar with my take on minimalist, or “barefoot” shoes. They cut out the fluff and the artifice and distill the essentials of what shoes should do: protect the bottom of the foot without cutting off incoming sensory data. Unencumbered by supportive arch inserts, stiff soles, and cramped dimensions, the human foot feels and functions optimally.
In many ways, that is the essence of the Primal Blueprint. We try to strip away the modern “advances” that are really encumbrances and barriers to lifelong health and vitality. We don’t reject modernity; we take only what’s useful and critically pare away the rest.
In a similar vein, minimalist gurus will tell you that minimalism isn’t about throwing away all your material possessions. It’s a framework for living intentionally. When you ascribe to a minimalist lifestyle, you fill your physical space and your time with things that serve a purpose, and you discard, literally or symbolically, those things that are just clutter.
Overall, I think minimalism is great. Eliminating waste, focusing on experiences over possessions, tossing stuff you never use or even look at—who doesn’t agree with that? Heck, that’s how I determine most things in life. Food, training, work. I look for the minimum effective dose to meet my needs.
I just can’t in good faith suggest that everyone overhaul their entire lives and toss 80 percent of everything they own. Some people just really like having and wearing tons of clothes, keeping vast libraries, or collecting souvenirs from their travels, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And though strict minimalists can ostensibly hold on to “frivolous” possessions as long as they do so mindfully, it rarely pans out like that.
Don’t Swap One Problem for Another
Use it as a system for decluttering your life (and mind) and drilling down on the things that truly matter, but don’t let minimalism define you. If you’re not careful, minimalism can quickly become another source of stress, especially when you compare your process to others’.
Look at the big picture. If you’re feeling called to minimalism, there’s a good chance that it’s less about the stuff you own and more about how overwhelming your life feels as a whole. Maybe what you really need isn’t a capsule wardrobe, it’s to curate your social calendar better, reign in your social media habit, or look for a new job.
