Why Our Sofa Is Gone
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About a week ago our sofa was gone (and also our bed, since we slept on it every night). Long story short, we started to declutter our room and remove all the objects that are not really necessary nor bring us joy. We started this process in February and we are still following it, after reading several theories about minimalism and what does it actually mean.
In our family, Philippe has always been a much more relaxed than me in terms of modelling and remodelling our space, as well as an emotional detachment when it comes to objects. This is also because since he was little he didn’t stay in one place for more than 4 years, so he had to adapt quickly to the new space. For him, this changes had represented an advantage in understanding that everything is moving and that he can arrange his rooms with free will and according to his current needs. On the other hand, I was a bit more conservative, which may be due to the fact that I spent my adolescence in student dorms, where everything had to be temporary and all the stuff that I had should’ve been put in a suitcase at the end of the semester when it was time to go back home. So when I arrived in Sweden, I felt the need for a long term stability and to create also a space that belongs to us.
Well, I changed my mind when I realised that, although very little time had passed, Philippe wanted to change that newly arranged and "stable" space, which I thought was long-lasting, because in the meantime other needs had arisen. And since then we have been playing with our space a lot, probably because we also demand from our 24 square meters to perform the functions of four rooms and a garage. But we managed to live well even so, with a small space, and now we are in the big process of decluttering. The sofa was the heaviest and most voluminous piece of furniture we had, and the moment it came out the door I felt like the entire space was freed, (not necessary a surprise since it was a big black sofa that covered an entire wall and one third of the floor surface). There are many reasons we decided to get rid of it, but the most important are these two: we wanted to improve our sleep quality (130 cm wide mattress was no longer enough for all three, nor all the waves between the pillows on which our backs curled) and to make as much room for movement as possible, especially because Albert loves to crawl a lot. We had the precedent of our rug. When we took it out, we instantly started to spend longer time on the floor, without stressing about all the lint and dust clinging to us (even if we vacuumed every 2-3 days, we still had no chance to clean it completely and we even got frustrated because of it). Now we sleep on the floor, currently on two yoga mats, until the Japanese mattress, futon, arrives. The futon seems to be much lighter and more flexible than our old sofa (at least that's what we understood from our extensive research). We will see how it is in terms of comfort, but we trust that we will feel better than before. The newly created space is very well received, and the process of getting rid of things is really liberating.
I always had the impression that the more you load a space and personalise it with many objects, the better, cozy, and homey you feel. I had the feeling that a space only gets warm when there are a lot of things around, like family pictures, bookshelves full of books, objects collected from trips and other trinkets that remind us of ourselves and all the things we did or places I've been through. On the other hand, I’m slowly starting now to realise that true meaning of “less is more” and that the really important objects, the ones we resonate with the most, are the ones that deserve to be highlighted in our space. In fact, it doesn’t have to be too many things to create a warm space, but only those few of which we can passionately talk about.
I really liked this idea I read in the “Goodbye, things” book by Fumio Sasaki, that our mind is constantly creating endless lists about all the things we have to do, including those around the home, and that every object we own demands our attention. For example, when I look at flowers, I remember that I have to water them soon, when I see an unread book on the shelf, I feel bad that I haven't flipped through it yet, and when I look at the pencils and watercolours in the boxes, it hurts because I wish to use them from time to time (isn’t it drawing part of my DNA?). And this "one day I'll have the time" always comes to my mind, and I'm sad that this time hasn't come yet. And it won't come until I can get rid of all the seen and unseen lists that consume my energy every day, without even realising it. The answer is actually very simple: it's up to me to choose which objects and activities I want to invest my energy in, so that I can free myself from the others that are not so important. This minimalist idea doesn’t mean living between four empty white walls, only with a bed and a flower pot, but knowing how to choose the things you have, in order to free your mind from that feeling unfinished things to do. And it is also about enjoying every item you own. "Does it spark joy?", as Marie Kondo says. Minimalism actually means putting a mirror in front of you, looking at yourself and discovering who you really are, along with your desires, pleasures or needs.
It is an interesting but also very difficult process of self-recognition.
About a week ago our sofa was gone (and also our bed, since we slept on it every night). Long story short, we started to declutter our room and remove all the objects that are not really necessary nor bring us joy. We started this process in February and we are still following it, after reading several theories about minimalism and what does it actually mean.
In our family, Philippe has always been a much more relaxed than me in terms of modelling and remodelling our space, as well as an emotional detachment when it comes to objects. This is also because since he was little he didn’t stay in one place for more than 4 years, so he had to adapt quickly to the new space. For him, this changes had represented an advantage in understanding that everything is moving and that he can arrange his rooms with free will and according to his current needs. On the other hand, I was a bit more conservative, which may be due to the fact that I spent my adolescence in student dorms, where everything had to be temporary and all the stuff that I had should’ve been put in a suitcase at the end of the semester when it was time to go back home. So when I arrived in Sweden, I felt the need for a long term stability and to create also a space that belongs to us.
Well, I changed my mind when I realised that, although very little time had passed, Philippe wanted to change that newly arranged and "stable" space, which I thought was long-lasting, because in the meantime other needs had arisen. And since then we have been playing with our space a lot, probably because we also demand from our 24 square meters to perform the functions of four rooms and a garage. But we managed to live well even so, with a small space, and now we are in the big process of decluttering. The sofa was the heaviest and most voluminous piece of furniture we had, and the moment it came out the door I felt like the entire space was freed, (not necessary a surprise since it was a big black sofa that covered an entire wall and one third of the floor surface). There are many reasons we decided to get rid of it, but the most important are these two: we wanted to improve our sleep quality (130 cm wide mattress was no longer enough for all three, nor all the waves between the pillows on which our backs curled) and to make as much room for movement as possible, especially because Albert loves to crawl a lot. We had the precedent of our rug. When we took it out, we instantly started to spend longer time on the floor, without stressing about all the lint and dust clinging to us (even if we vacuumed every 2-3 days, we still had no chance to clean it completely and we even got frustrated because of it). Now we sleep on the floor, currently on two yoga mats, until the Japanese mattress, futon, arrives. The futon seems to be much lighter and more flexible than our old sofa (at least that's what we understood from our extensive research). We will see how it is in terms of comfort, but we trust that we will feel better than before. The newly created space is very well received, and the process of getting rid of things is really liberating.
I always had the impression that the more you load a space and personalise it with many objects, the better, cozy, and homey you feel. I had the feeling that a space only gets warm when there are a lot of things around, like family pictures, bookshelves full of books, objects collected from trips and other trinkets that remind us of ourselves and all the things we did or places I've been through. On the other hand, I’m slowly starting now to realise that true meaning of “less is more” and that the really important objects, the ones we resonate with the most, are the ones that deserve to be highlighted in our space. In fact, it doesn’t have to be too many things to create a warm space, but only those few of which we can passionately talk about.
I really liked this idea I read in the “Goodbye, things” book by Fumio Sasaki, that our mind is constantly creating endless lists about all the things we have to do, including those around the home, and that every object we own demands our attention. For example, when I look at flowers, I remember that I have to water them soon, when I see an unread book on the shelf, I feel bad that I haven't flipped through it yet, and when I look at the pencils and watercolours in the boxes, it hurts because I wish to use them from time to time (isn’t it drawing part of my DNA?). And this "one day I'll have the time" always comes to my mind, and I'm sad that this time hasn't come yet. And it won't come until I can get rid of all the seen and unseen lists that consume my energy every day, without even realising it. The answer is actually very simple: it's up to me to choose which objects and activities I want to invest my energy in, so that I can free myself from the others that are not so important. This minimalist idea doesn’t mean living between four empty white walls, only with a bed and a flower pot, but knowing how to choose the things you have, in order to free your mind from that feeling unfinished things to do. And it is also about enjoying every item you own. "Does it spark joy?", as Marie Kondo says. Minimalism actually means putting a mirror in front of you, looking at yourself and discovering who you really are, along with your desires, pleasures or needs.
It is an interesting but also very difficult process of self-recognition.
