Editing Your Life: Less = More

With the holidays in full effect, I find it hard sometimes to fight the flood of commercialism and the incentive to buy, buy, buy. That’s why I appreciate this short, five minute TED talk by Graham Hill  (also posted below) where he shares his thoughts on “Life editing.”

As a writer, I never understood the value of editing until I got my M.F.A. at Saint Mary’s College. Until then, I thought writing largely consisted of channeling a story or a moment I’d experienced into a great narrative. Of course I’d “edit,” but there was nothing overly meticulous about it. The truth is though, good editing is ruthless–and it makes for the best kind of prose. I guarantee you that the best writers out there wrestle constantly with each sentence or word on the page, constantly deciding whether it deserves to stay on the page, to exist. Good writing, in essence, is always on trial for its life.

Graham Hill argues that we should have the same ruthlessness with our stuff–both the things we currently own, and the stuff we want to buy. In a way, this is a familiar concept for me. As a child and teenager, I moved literally every year; naturally this forced my family to whittle down our possessions while packing.

But my twenties took life-editing to a new level. A few short months after my mother passed away,  my then-boyfriend and I embarked on a month-long hike on the Pacific Crest trail in Washington State. He was an advocate  for lightweight hiking (perhaps disciple is a better word), so we had to whittle our possessions down to nearly nothing. Suddenly my possessions all had to justify the weight they would take up in my backpack. Every ounce, he’d argue, impacts your knees, burns needed calories, and slows you down.

Before we left on our trip, we gathered on my little balcony, my backpack contents spread vulnerably before him. I watched, depressed in a way, as he shook his head and vetoed my things. My toothbrush? Saw it in half. Did I really need the bottom half? It would save half an ounce. The sleeping pad? You really only need 3/4 of the length. Cut the rest. That book? You’ll be walking the whole time and won’t have time to read–just bring a journal and write during your free time. That heavy rain jacket? Why not just stash some garbage bags instead and wear those in an emergency? (Note: that one wasn’t the best idea, I learned, while hiking for three days in a trash bag in the rain. Bring a good lightweight rain coat, fellow hikers; it’s worth it.)

But that hike, and the one we did the following year from Mt. Whitney to Tahoe, instilled something in me: Stuff is heavy. Are you sure you want to carry it? I had to consider this constantly as I moved from one place to the next over the following seven years: from Sebastopol to the Bay Area, to Colorado, to the Philippines, to Colorado again, to the Philippines, to Turkey, to Italy, and then back to the Bay Area again. The most essential things in my life got condensed into packages, like little Jennie Durant bouillon cubes. And before I bought anything while living abroad, I’d think: Do I really want to pay to ship that back?

Now that I’ve returned to the Bay Area to put down roots and pursue a career and a family, the real challenge begins. I feel the temptation to acquire burning inside me like the first hints of a fever. That’s why I like this video and its simple tool to help me as I move into the holidays and the more stable stages of my adult life, where a closet, an attic, or a garage full of space tempts me with its storage capacity. Before I choose to buy something I must remember to ask myself an important question: Will this really make me happy? Really? Should I really spend my money on this thing?

My guess? The answer will almost always be no.