About #ineedless

You have no idea how many times I have asked myself this question in the past year-and-a-half:

What does #ineedless really mean?

Along with: Who said I need less? How much is less? How do I define less? Why is less somehow better? What is the advantage of living like I need less?

I’ve asked these questions and more. That’s a start. But that doesn’t mean I have all of the answers. So if you feel a bit confused or hesitant or uncertain about where all of this is headed, you are not alone.

Here’s what I can tell you for certain: My soul would NOT shut up about my need for less.

The phrase “I need less” has echoed in my head, and through my entire being, on a loop since August 2015. (Thanks to theminimalists.com and their “30-Day Minimalism Game“. Game??? Look at how it messed me up!)

I talked with some family members and a friend or two about starting a blog to explore this idea starting in early 2016. And here we are in 2017, with the unspecific but overpowering sense that I need less, now more than ever.

Some questions you might be asking yourself at this point:

  • Does this have to do with all of my possessions? — Yes. And no. And so much more.
  • Did this blog start because the author was far too privileged as a child and needs to experience “the other side”? — I never went to bed hungry, folks, but the privileged life (by American standards, at least) is not a part of my history. So…no.
  • Has he just completely spoiled his own children and this whole thing is merely a shadow of his own deep regret? — How dare you! I won’t even dignify that with a response. (But my kids never went hungry either, by the way. And by hungry I actually mean “without Toaster Strudel”.)

Look, you get the idea here. Many more questions than answers.

Here’s my best explanation at this point:

This message that #ineedless is coming from a place deep within me. It’s a place that I honestly feel like I hardly even know yet. But the desire to know it intimately will not let go of me.

The message itself actually makes my chest physically ache to fully know that place, to dwell in peace in that place where the message already is true. In that place deep within me, that space where my logical thoughts simply cannot yet reach, I can believe the message.

So maybe I write to begin constructing a bridge between that place and this place out here, where we all live and breathe and hurt and fear and lie and hate and get offended and wonder and worry.

I write so that I can find a way to believe it, truly believe it, out here in the mess.

I write to find the sacred connection between the deep knowing that “I need less” and my everyday reality. And I write because I feel the deep desire to create a space for the Sacred in my life, in our lives, by beginning to remove unnecessary things.

The Sacred always brings renewal and new life along with it. For me, for you, and for our world. This is what I believe.