A review of Everything That Remains by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus.
[img]2613|right|||no_popup[/img]“Less is more” is the classic minimalist motto, an easily observed injunction to pare down ornamentation in favour of essential form. Hence, the interior décor that is either stylish or sparse depending on one’s preferences. The canvas graced with the fewest brushstrokes and pigments, about which more creativity is often expanded in the artwork’s interpretation than its composition. The music distinguished by a heightened awareness of order manifested in repetitive musical motifs.
But when applied to the art of living, the familiar mantra benefits from a modification: “When more is too much, less should be enough.” Epicurus, the underrated thinker whose name has come to be the gourmet and sensualist antithesis to his actual philosophy, would certainly agree. “The soul neither rids itself of disturbance nor gains a worthwhile joy through the possession of greatest wealth, nor by the honor and admiration bestowed by the crowd, or through any of the other things sought by unlimited desire,” he wrote in the collection of epigraphs known as the Vatican Sayings. While the Greek sage doesn’t figure in Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus’s Everything That Remains, his legacy certainly does by osmosis if not by direct transmission. The point of invoking him, other than to shamelessly show off, is to underline how the idea of living simply is not a new one. (Nor, it should be emphasized, is it unique to Western cultures.) We know, in our heart of hearts, that our modern life is not inherently satisfying. We know that there are alternative perspectives that can lead to a more authentic, humane, and engaged life, because even among the Ancient Greeks there were philosophers who held a profound understanding of what constitutes the Good Life. Yet here we are caught in a cycle of material acquisition, driven to satisfy the capitalist growth imperative through a civic duty of consumption. How do we recognize it on a personal level and ultimately escape it?
Everything That Remains offers a deeply personal, insightful, heartfelt, and much-needed answer to what is arguably one of the most critical existential question we face in a 21st century marked by economic malaise. Presented as a “memoir by the minimalists,” but really “a bunch of life lessons explored in narrative format,” the book is Joshua Fields Millburn’s autobiographical chronicle of his journey from too much to just enough. Aiding him in telling his story is his friend and fellow minimalist Ryan Nicodemus, whose contribution consists of wisecracks and insightful observations delivered via endnotes. Beginning with the high life of a high-paying corporate job and mediated by the tragedy of his mother’s death and concurrent divorce with his wife, Joshua recounts how he realized the truth in the admonition that we are ultimately possessed by our own possessions, however we may delude ourselves into thinking otherwise.
“For a dozen years I’ve blindly embraced the ostensible security of my prestigious career and all the cold trappings of our entropic consumer culture…I’ve purchased all the purchases, accumulated all the accumulations, and achieved all the achievements that were supposed to make me feel secure. So why didn’t I experience real security? Why was I glazed over with discontent and stress and depression? Because I had more to lose…My lifestyle, equipped with a laundry list of unquestioned desires, anchored me to my self-built burdens. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know why I wanted it.”
His solution involved divesting himself of the unnecessary, of reducing the stuff in his life that didn’t add genuine value to it. As he grew more content with his life, reaching a point when he put himself at the top of a list of people to downsize from the company he worked at, even his friend Ryan noticed. One “packing party” later, and Ryan, too, had become a minimalist.
Lifestyle minimalism, then, is an antidote to our overstuffed condition. It shouldn’t be confused with asceticism, however. To be a minimalist doesn’t mean subsisting on bread and water while living in a room for which a single bulb is a luxury. Rather, as Joshua and Ryan demonstrate in Everything That Remains, it’s about living purposefully, with a critical view as to what is truly necessary to leading a contented life and what is merely superfluous baggage that weighs us down. Each of us, in examining our lives, must decide for ourselves what the right balance is. Perhaps it is bread, water, and light bulb. Most likely it is more. Whatever the balance, it might be surprising to learn that what we need to be happy is far less than what the marketing matrix we live in would have us believe. As Epicurus put it in his Principal Doctrines, “The wealth required by nature is limited and is easy to procure; but the wealth required by vain ideals extends to infinity.” All the better to set aside vain ideals and, instead, live in nature.
Everything That Remains is not specifically a how-to guide to decluttering our lives (physically and psychologically) and making room for what is truly meaningful to us. For that, there’s Joshua and Ryan’s “minimalism: life a meaningful life” and the resources at www.theminimalists.com. It is, rather, a book to inspire action through personal example. That personal example is all the more observable in person, where it is clear that the Minimalists are not slick self-help prophets or superstar gurus cashing in on a trend, but down-to-earth fellows with no pretenses about themselves or the message they share.
I had the opportunity to hear Joshua and Ryan speak during the Los Angeles stop of their book tour, where they addressed an eager, attentive, and generous-sized crowd at the treasure house known as the Last Bookstore. After their talk, my wife and I met the very huggable fellows for a brief chat in the autograph line. What struck me most about them, other than their modesty and insight, was how timely and empowering their visit was – just the spark my wife and I needed to simplify our own lives. While we still have a way to go, there already is a sense of buoyancy in our home as we sort through our possessions to separate out what is valuable from what is merely stuff. It is a process I look forward to continuing with, and it is rare indeed to find avuncular guides who don’t assume a lofty position but instead walk side-by-side.
Frédérik Sisa is the Page's Assistant Editor and Resident Art Critic. He invites you to join him on twitter, instagram, and his blog, If you have a book, film, art or fashion project you would like considered for a Page feature, he welcomes your eMails to fsisa@thefrontpageonline.com.
