In August I will be moving from Iowa City, IA to Portland, OR. I’ve never been to Portland, or Oregon. I also don’t know anyone living there. This will be my first move as a Digital Nomad. I’ll be following in the path of “The Minimalists”, Marie Kondo, and others. Letting go of my things in search of not happiness but contentment. When I’ve heard people talking about the joy associated with letting go of your stuff, they focus on the two emotional high points, the excitement of trying something new and the release you feel once you’ve unburdened yourself. Please don’t mistake this as a condemnation of anything The Minimalists or Marie Kondo propose, rather this is simply my chance to slowdown and experience the low between those beautiful moments.
The first moment you begin to dream about exploring the world and all it has to offer, there is a big rush of excitement, a world of possibilities is open to you. Do you travel in your own country, do you go abroad, do you go to the other side of the globe? At this point the world is full of potential and the your energy swells. What could possibly go wrong? Then reality creeps in, you start looking around your house. You see the dog, you’ve loved and cared for for the last 11 years. The antique furniture. The family silver. The record collection you’ve painstakingly collected. What am I going to do with all this stuff. This is the emotional low point that you have to go through.
There are many ways people become nomads, for many it’s forced on them because of trouble at home, war, poverty, or families that don’t support them. Other’s become nomads because life has stripped them of all of their possessions by imprisonment or natural disaster. For these people the emotional low is very apparent and easy to comprehend. But we fail to appreciate the emotional low when we are choosing to downsize. Its pushed down the feeling hole, stuffed away with all the old crap we have sitting in our houses. The feelings will fester if not processed.
As I sit here writing at my dinning room table, I begin to wonder. “Will I take this table with me?” Thats easy, NOPE! But how do I let it go? It’s a nice table it may be worth some money. But is it enough money to deal with trying to sell it, haggling over the price, scheduling a time for someone to pick it up, answering silly questions about if I can deliver it. The process repeats its self for each item in the house, what do I with my pictures and painting. They won’t hold value for someone else, but once they are gone, I can’t get them back. Maybe I should just get a storage unit, and keep everything stored until I settle down. I can’t be a nomad forever, can I?
This is where I have to step back. Why am I holding onto this motorcycle, table, stuffed animal, toolbox or knickknack? Marie Kondo would ask, “Does it bring you joy?” I agree many of these things are just here because I’m afraid of letting them go, at some point in the future I may not just want them, but that I’ll need them. This is an irrational fear, that does not mean it should be ignored. Rather it should be confronted, what’s the worst case if I give this things away? Some day I may want it back or maybe it will be expensive to replace. What’s important about that? People may judge me, and say I’m silly for throwing all of this stuff away. My family will complain that I don’t value the same things they do. I won’t fit in. Wow, do I really think I don’t fit in with my family. Yes, that is the most likely case. That is a real danger of taking a different path from everyone else. Now for the hard part, are you content with not fitting in? I know my answer.
If you’re thinking of becoming a digital nomad, living in a tiny house, or just picking up and moving across the country, step back for a moment, spend more time in the valley between the excitement of new ideas and freedom of living a smaller footprint life. Taking this time for reflection will allow you to process those emotions and appreciate how far you’ve gone.