Think about what needs you might have: the need to check your email every 15 minutes, or empty your inbox, or read all your blogs, or keep something perfectly neat, or dress to work in the latest fashions. The need to constantly badger your kids about things, or control your co-workers, or meet with everyone who wants a meeting, or be wealthier and wealthier, or own a nice car.

Where do these types of needs come from? They’re completely made up.

Sometimes the needs are created by society: the industry you’re in requires you to work until 9 p.m. or dress in impeccable suits. Your neighborhood has certain standards and if you don’t have an impeccable lawn and two BMWs in the driveway, you’ll be judged. If you don’t have the latest iPhone, you won’t have your geek cred or status symbol, and you’ll be jealous of those who do.

Sometimes the needs are made up by ourselves: we feel the urge to check our emails or RSS feeds or news websites or text messages or Twitter accounts constantly, even though there is no negative societal or work consequences if we don’t keep up with them. We want a perfectly made up bed even if no one else cares. We want to create a list of goals in life or for the year and achieve every one of them, even if nothing bad will happen if we don’t achieve most of them.

Either of these types of made-up needs can be eliminated. All it takes is the willingness to let go.

Examine one of your made-up needs, and ask yourself why it’s such an important need. Ask what would happen if you dropped them. What good would it do? Would you have more free time and more space to concentrate and create, or less stress and fewer things to check off each day? What bad things would happen — or might happen? And how likely is it that these things would happen? And how could you counter-act them?

These needs are created by fears, and the more honest we are about these fears, the better. Face the fears, and give yourself a little trial period — allow yourself to let go of the need, but just for an hour, or a day. Just for a week. If nothing bad happens, extend the trial, and slowly in this manner you’ll find that the need wasn’t a need at all.

It can feel good to let go, and by letting go, you are freeing yourself.

The types of reading seem to grow all the time: from traditional paper books, newspapers and magazines to blog posts, online news articles, forums, Tweets, Facebook updates, emails, email newsletters, and much more. Each of these types of reading presents an ever-growing and often overwhelming reading list that we must keep up with: an email inbox, an RSS reader with the latest blog posts, various news websites, a long list of status updates and forum posts, and so on.

Keeping up with these lists becomes near impossible, a full-time job. My solution is to give up on keeping up — it’s a self-invented need, not a real one — and to pare down as much as possible. So I pare my list of blogs to the essential, I barely do email, I have only a few friends on Twitter and Facebook. So I’m not the most up-to-date guy, and so I don’t make everyone happy by being their online friend … life seems to go on.

Even with a pared-down reading list, reading can still be a challenge: how do you read without distractions? It’s incredibly difficult, as each reading form pulls us away from the others, and alerts and updates are coming in all the time, not to mention other forms of communication like phones, IM, and (gasp) real people trying to get our attention.

Here’s how I find undistracted reading:

1. Books. My favorite type of reading is the novel. I rarely read non-fiction books, even though I’m a non-fiction author myself. And while the iPad and Kindle each present lovely ways of reading books, they also each contain various distractions. And so I still love the paper book, for its simplicity and lack of other things to do while you’re reading it. Close the computer, turn off the phones, find a quiet spot, and just read. Try to do it in large chunks, like 30 minutes or an hour or more, and you can get lost in another world. Simply beautiful.

2. Blog posts. I love to read blogs, though I keep up with fewer these days than I did a few years ago. I’ve pared my reading list down and use Google Reader to quickly get through the list each day. When I find a post I want to read in full, without distractions, I open it in a new browser window — not a browser tab, but a window, so no other tabs show — and use the Readability bookmarklet or similar to focus only on the text. Then I read without switching to anything else until I’m done.

Here on mnmlist, and there on Zen Habits, I’ve already pared my posts down to just the text. I’ve done the work for you, for undistracted reading. On other blogs, you have to do some work — install the Readability bookmarklet, hit a button when you want to read an article without distractions. It’s OK. A little hard work never killed anyone, except my Uncle Murray but I think it was more his complaining about hard work that did it.

3. Focused browsing. If you open a bunch of tabs, keep things focused by using a little service I discovered called Instapaper (I don’t think anyone else knows about this, so feel free to leave 5 cents on your way out for the tip). Instapaper all your open tabs for reading later, then read one at a time when you have some undistracted reading time.

4. Email, Twitter, Facebook. Basically, open these as little as possible. They lead to distractions for other reading, for work, etc. Open them for 5 minutes, do a quick scan, post an update or reply if necessary, then get out. Only open one at a time, do them with focus, and close the tab. Give yourself some time to do this on a regular basis — 5 minutes at the top of each hour, or at 9 a.m. and 3 p.m., or whatever works for you.

5. News articles. I don’t read a lot of news sites. They tend to lead to lots of distractions. But when I do, I open a few of the articles that look interesting, scan them, and Instapaper the ones that I want to read later. Then I’ll plow through Instapaper with some undistracted reading, when I have time.

That gave me pause to think: is it a valid criticism? And I think, at some levels, it is — the minimalism I propose (along with many others) is something we might adopt on a person-to-person basis, and possibly won’t be adopted by everyone in society. And if it isn’t, has it made a difference?

Sure it has — to the individual people who have adopted minimalism. It can change your life, for the better, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. But will it change the world? Will it solve poverty and global warming? Obviously not, if it’s only adopted by a small number of people. For it to work, it would have to be widespread.

So yes, I hear that. But must we only pursue solutions that will be adopted by everyone all at once? If we believe a course of action is better for us as individual people and for society as a whole, but we doubt whether society as a whole will adopt it, should we shun that course of action?

I don’t believe so. I think that if a way of living is right, you should live that way. If it makes your life better, then good. If it’s adopted by the world, even better. We can’t let the problem of getting widespread adoption stop us from starting.

That’s what minimalism as practiced by individual people is, at its heart: just a start. Socrates said, “Let he that would move the world, first move himself.” Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” I say, let’s start with ourselves. If we cannot walk the path, how can we ask the world to walk it?

Once we have shown that a minimalist life is not only possible, but a good thing, it will become a shining example to others. We can move others with our very lives. As Gandhi also said, “My life is my message.” Let your life be your message to the world, your example for a better life, and let that be the start.

From such small beginnings, great things can be born.

We’re in a new city, a blank slate for us, and we’re allowed to reimagine our lives. That’s a scary thing, because as humans we cling to the familiar, find comfort in routines and in what we’re used to. We can handle change, but usually in smaller bits. Drastic changes, at the scale of everything we know, are difficult to handle.

It’s also a wonderful thing, because a fresh start means you have nothing tying you down, nothing stopping you from creating the life you want.

It’s painful, in that we left behind the people we love the most. It was like tearing off a limb, except that you can live without a limb … living without these loved ones isn’t so easy. I don’t recommend it to anyone else, but I also know that we will grow as people because of this experience, and become stronger for it.

We’ve gone car-free, which is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. It’s almost impossible to do on Guam, for many reasons, though we did manage to go car-lite while we were there. Today, we walk and take transit everywhere, and it’s easy. We plan to get bikes soon.

We purposely moved to a spot that’s near everything we need: groceries, a library, bookstores, restaurants, hardware store, bakeries, lovely parks, buses and trains. We could have lived cheaper or nicer if we were further away from everything, but we chose to be in a denser area, more walkable.

We are buying most of what we eat at farmer’s markets and in bulk bins, to reduce packaging and processed foods, both better for our health and the environment. We’re still working on this, but already it’s been a dramatic improvement.

We run in parks, sprint up hills, walk everywhere, eat fairly healthy, do bodyweight exercises whenever and wherever we feel like it, play in grass fields. We’re getting healthier and fitter than ever before, and we love it.

We have very little. And that’s perfect.

It’s a fresh start. We’ve only begun to imagine the possibilities. It’s not home yet, but we’re going to make it the home we create.

The plan: sell, donate, or give away almost everything we owned. We hoped to keep a backpack of clothes each (to be carried on the plane), and a box of personal stuff each that would be shipped to us once we had a home. Everything else would be sold in a yardsale, given to family & friends who needed them, or donated to charity. Then we’d start from scratch — buying used as much as possible, and getting as little as possible.

That mostly happened according to plan. We did sell, give away and donate practically everything we owned. There is an amazing amount of stuff in drawers and closets that turns up when you’re actually emptying out your house — canned goods, ziploc bags, tools, brooms, bathroom cleaners, things like that — even when you’re a minimalist at heart. It turned out to be a lot of work emptying out our home completely. So not as minimalist as I’d hoped, but again, no one’s perfect.

Moving with a backpack each was nice. We didn’t have any luggage to check in on our flight. In practice, just about all the bags were carried by me and my oldest son, Justin, so we were loaded with three backpacks/duffel bags each. That was OK, but definitely tiring when your trip includes a flight to Japan with a 9-hour layover, a long flight to L.A., and another flight to San Francisco, with ridiculous amounts of security checks at each stop.

We found a home within a week, which was faster than we’d dared to hope. That wasn’t all that minimalist either — we were going all over the city (commuting from Alameda each morning, where we were staying with my cousin) looking at houses. Realtors don’t like to make appointments in advance it seems, so each morning I’d have a list of places from Craigslist and I’d make calls, trying to set up appointments. We walked around a bunch of different neighborhoods in the first week, getting a feel for them. Our favorite was Cole Valley, by far, and that’s where we finally settled.

The first night in our new place was minimalist as hell. We had a futon and an air mattress, some pillows and blankets. We also bought bathroom and kitchen supplies, and not much else. Our home was empty, and cold (I didn’t find the heater until morning).

The first week in our new house, we ran all over town trying to get furniture and other home necessities (dishes, rugs, etc.). A lot of it we got off Craigslist, which is very cool, but it turns out to be hard to do when you don’t have a car or truck. I ended up grouping the pick-ups of used furniture into two-hour windows, and hiring a small mover to pick them up with me. One day I rented a U-haul truck. Another day I picked up a rug, rolled it up, carried it 10 blocks by foot, and then took the rug on the train. It wasn’t too bad.

The disappointing thing is we ended up buying a fair amount of new stuff — a couple beds (we got one used), mattresses, curtains, rugs, kitchen and bathroom stuff. I dislike doing this, as it’s a huge waste of natural resources, but we didn’t find used versions of these things that we liked. Perhaps our standards were too high.

Today, we’re mostly settled in. We don’t have a TV, which I love, but considering I don’t make all the decisions I’m not sure how long that will last. We have computers and wireless Internet, food from farmer’s markets. We don’t have a car and won’t get one, period. We don’t have bikes yet but will. Our home is pretty minimalist, which is a great thing about starting from scratch. We’ll see how long it lasts.

When I talk about giving up unnecessary shopping or clothes or shoes, many people balk. When I talk about giving up a car, or getting a smaller home, or not drinking sugary coffee drinks, or giving up junk food … I always hear a lot of people who say, “I’d love to be a minimalist, but I could never give up my ____.” (You can fill in the blank.)

I thought the same thing, many times, when I’d hear about other people making changes. “I could never give that up,” I thought to myself.

I was wrong.

I said I could never give up my hamburgers or fried chicken, but now I’m a vegetarian.

I said I could never give up my cable TV, but I’ve been without it for 6 or 7 years now.

I said I could never give up my cigarettes, but I’ve been tobacco-free for nearly 5 years.

I said I could never give up my sweets, and now I only have a few bites now and then.

I said I could never give up my car, but I barely drive now and am going car-free next month.

I said I could never give up packaged foods, but now I almost only eat real food, unpackaged.

I said I could never give up my coffee, but I recently have.

I said I could never give up my running shoes, but now I run barefoot.

I said I could never get down to a handful of clothes, but I have.

I said I could never give up TV altogether, but I am.

If you think you could never do something … stop saying it. You just might surprise yourself.

I disagree: anyone can do it.

Minimalism is simply eliminating the unnecessary. And while the poor (anyone who’s not in the middle class or above) might not have the ridiculously unnecessary things that the affluent have, there are usually things that can be eliminated.

The photos of minimalist houses, desks, and Macs that you see on many minimalist sites are obviously for the affluent — they have expensive furniture, computers, gadgets, homes that aren’t affordable for many people. But that’s not a requirement of minimalism.

In fact, there isn’t a requirement for minimalism. You can invent your own version, and if you’re more worried about how to survive until the next paycheck (I’ve been there), then cutting back on the unnecessary will help you get there. Look for unnecessary expenses (like eating out, going to the movies, buying junk food snacks, or renting DVDs) and eliminate them, finding ways to have fun that are free.

Eliminating unnecessary possessions also means you’ll need a smaller home, which will save on rent and heating/cooling. Buying fewer things means less debt. Spending time with loved ones or doing things you love means you spend less. All of these things are good whether you’re wealthy or not.

It’s true that the poor are often thought of as not having the luxury of even thinking about simplifying, or minimalism. They’re too worried about putting food on the table, or where the rent is coming from, or how to avoid creditors until the next paycheck. And there’s a lot of truth in that. But it doesn’t have to be true: anyone can pause, breathe, and decide to live differently.

Anyone can make the decision to do without the unnecessary, to cut off cable TV, to consider doing without a car, to only buy what’s absolutely necessary and to rethink what’s necessary. I’ve been deep in debt, and I know the feeling of drowning with no way to get out. I got out, mostly because I cut expenses to the bone while looking for ways to increase income. Minimalism helped me to get out of debt, and to get out of poverty. It’s not just for the affluent anymore.

It was lovely.

A break from digital communication, which I try to do now and then, is refreshing. It clears your life of the noise, and allows you to find quiet, to focus on the important, to be at peace.

What I didn’t do on my digital break:

• Check email.
• Check Twitter or tweet.
• Check or update Facebook, which I use just for keeping up with family.
• Read my RSS feeds.
• Check any news sites.
• Watch any TV except for the last Lost episode.
• Watch any YouTube or other online videos.
• Listen to any radio.
• Read any Internet except for a few longer articles I already had open in my browser. These were OK, because they were just reading, nothing updated or connected.

Some of the things I did do while on my break:

• Went for a run with my wife Eva.
• Did a short zazen session with Eva.
• Had really nice, long conversations with Eva.
• Wrote a couple of blog posts.
• Spent some time playing with my kids.
• Watched the historic finale of Lost.
• Had coffee.
• Read some of the novel I’m reading, John Updike’s Rabbit, Run.
• Caught up with the aforementioned long articles I’d wanted to read.
• Shaved my head and beard.
• Had a short visit from my dad.
• Had a long, excellent visit with my grandma.
• Had dinner with my mom and sisters, their kids, and Eva and the kids.

Looking over what I didn’t do, and what I did do, I’d say the day was a success. I did things that gave me joy, and cut out things that just take up my time.

Am I saying we should all cut out these things — email, Twitter, Facebook, reading blogs, reading news? No, I think in smaller doses, they enrich our lives. We just need digital breaks on a regular basis, so they don’t take over our lives.

I plan to take a digital break once a week. Give it a try, and let me know what you think!

Someone then asked: ‘How is an omission the purest form of beauty?’

This is the essence of minimalism. The ellipsis is the punctuation mark (…) that indicates an intentional omission. From Wikipedia: “An ellipsis can also be used to indicate a pause in speech, an unfinished thought, or, at the end of a sentence, a trailing off into silence.”

If that description doesn’t inspire thoughts of beauty in you, you might not be a minimalist.

A pause in speech is silence. Silence is one of the most profound ways to connect with your inner voice, with nature. Silence is the best part of speech.

An unfinished thought is any thought, really — if a thought is “finished” it’s dead. We are all of us in transition, all the time, and our thoughts can be no exception.

Trailing off into silence implies that there is much left unsaid … that what is said is only the start.

Intentional omission is the foundation of minimalism: we leave things out because they are unnecessary, and retain only what we need or use or love. Omitting the unnecessary is a thing of pure beauty.

…

Say less, and hear more.

Do less, and have a greater impact.

Make less noise, and appreciate the silence.

Send out fewer emails, and make each one count.

Tweet less, and each one becomes more meaningful.

Have fewer possessions, and enjoy the space.

Have fewer “friends”, but make each relationship stronger.

Appreciate the spaces between everything.

…

Let’s stop that. We are not consumers.

We’re people.

When we allow ourselves to be branded with these types of corporate terms, we’ve given in to the consumerist mindset. We’ve allowed the debate to be framed around buying: should we buy organic or local? How can we protect consumers? Do consumers have rights? What’s the best way to spend our money on products? How can we be savvy consumers? How can we affect change in society by making ethical or conscious buying choices?

What about the question of whether we should be buying or not? That gets thrown out the window, because it’s already assumed in the term: we’re consumers. Of course we buy. It’s just a matter of how, how much, where, from whom, how often.

But if we stop thinking of ourselves as consumers, and start calling ourselves “people”, then we open up the question. Should we even buy in the first place? Is it possible to live a life without buying?

We talked a bit about that in society, reimagined … that we can grow our own food, make and trade and share everything we need. It’s possible — of course it’s possible! Human beings (not consumers) did it for hundreds of thousands of years, and at least 10,000 years in civilized society: we lived and worked and played and loved, without buying. We did it in tribes, of course, but also in larger societies that weren’t based around the basic unit of corporation -> consumer.

I’m not advocating a return to tribalism. I’m saying we need to change the debate. We need to stop calling ourselves consumers. We need to open up our minds, so that a different way is possible.