The Art of Traveling Light Through Life | Minimalist Philosophy
As was the case with many philosophers of antiquity, Socrates led a frugal life. He had few possessions and even refused to wear shoes. Yet, he loved visiting the marketplace and went there often, just walking around and looking at stuff. So, a friend asked him why he would visit the marketplace so frequently. Socrates answered: “I love going there to look at all the things I’m perfectly happy without!”
When thinking of traveling light, we think of traveling without much baggage. We imagine going on a journey without taking many heavy things, just the necessary stuff, so our belongings won’t weigh us down. This lightness generally makes traveling enjoyable; we can move faster, and more freely, and we’re more flexible. Minimalist packers move more easily through crowded places and may save on luggage fees. Also, if you bring less stuff, you have less stuff to worry about. So, acknowledging these benefits, what about traveling light as a metaphor for a broader spectrum? What about traveling light as a ‘way of life?’
Looking at it from that perspective, then, what would ‘traveling light’ entail? Is it a matter of having few possessions like Socrates? Perhaps walking around without shoes? Or does this ‘lightness’ come from other aspects of existence? This video explores the art of traveling light through life.
King Midas, a ruler famed for his wealth, harbored an insatiable lust for gold. His obsession was so deep that when the god Dionysus granted him a wish, the king chose the ability to turn everything he touched into gold. Initially elated, he indulged in his new power, turning objects into gold with a mere touch. However, his joy quickly turned into despair when, through his touch, he also transformed his food and drink and even his beloved daughter into gold. King Midas realized that his wish was a grave mistake, so he begged Dionysus to undo his wish, which he did. From that point, Midas understood that his greed for gold could actually destroy life’s true treasures.
It’s not uncommon that our desire for stuff weighs us down. Humans tend to hold on to stuff; we tend to accumulate to have more than we need. This tendency may come from an inborn desire for self-preservation. We wish to own a house, as houses provide us protection, so owning one gives us a sense of stability in that regard. We stuff our pantries, freezers, and fridges with food, which lowers the chance of us starving in the future, and we don’t have to buy food every time we’re hungry.
And then there are the hoarders who take this urge for self-preservation to another level by holding on to loads of useless stuff; they’re so attached to these material goods that they just can’t bring themselves to throw them away. We also have the wealthy folks who not just buy a house; they buy villas with pools, four bathrooms, ten bedrooms, etc. They don’t just buy cars; they own a whole collection, including a few supercars. Such buying behavior goes way beyond self-preservation. It’s greed akin to King Midas’s lust for gold.
Owning a lot of stuff can be very convenient. We don’t have to leave the house for a swim when we have a pool. When our freezer is full of food, we can last a while before going to the supermarket again. Take my mom, for example. She possesses many things that I wouldn’t even think of saving. But if you suddenly need a birthday card, if you want to do some ad hoc stone grilling, if you want to shorten the sleeves of your new cardigan, or, like my sister, want to renovate an old bus into a mobile home, my mom has everything, literally everything, to make that happen within reach.
So, it’s not that owning a lot of stuff isn’t useful. In my observation, it's just that owning a lot weighs people down in some form or another. Take the burdens of being wealthy and owning a massive villa with lots of expensive stuff. First, you must rely on security measures because you’re a target for criminals. Then, you need to maintain the place; someone has to water the plants, cut the grass, vacuum clean the ten bedrooms, clean the five bathrooms, and the pool. You’ll also have to keep the place warm (or cool, depending on where you are). So, you’ll need a lot of money to maintain this already expensive villa.
This example is an exaggeration, but the same principle happens when a couple buys a house they can barely afford, meaning they rely on two incomes to pay the mortgage and other expenses. Yes, they have the dream house, but they traded it for being stuck in their position. This mortgage is a millstone around their necks. It robs them of flexibility and freedom. They essentially have become prisoners of their financial obligations.
The ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus put it this way, saying: “No pleasure is in itself evil, but the things which produce certain pleasures entail annoyances many times greater than the pleasures themselves.”
The experience of being overburdened reminds me of the video game Skyrim, which I immersed myself in during the winter of 2011. During the game, you can collect all kinds of stuff: armor, swords, herbs, cheese wedges, etc. But the more you collect, the slower you move. And when you’re carrying too much, you can’t even move. I think this serves as a metaphor for life in general. The more you own, the heavier these things weigh on you. You’ll have more to take care of, more to defend, more to protect, more responsibility. There’s more at stake and more to lose, so you may experience more anxiety on account of that as well.
These things that you acquired to benefit you begin to rule your agenda as they all demand a piece of your attention. As Tyler Durden stated: “The things you own end up owning you. It’s only after you lose everything that you’re free to do anything.” Your possessions have become a burden. And it’s not just possessions that can become burdensome; thinking can also do that. Most of the time, the reason we don’t move forward in life is because we refuse to let go of things that hold us down.
All this psychological and material baggage we carry around makes life heavy, and we walk through it as pack mules. What a relief it would be if we could just lift these burdens off our shoulders. How much lighter would life be if we could let go of stuff a bit easier? Heaviness in the material realm is one thing; heaviness in the psychological realm is another.
When we’re psychologically heavy, we experience these recurring thoughts, like worries about the future and ruminations of the past, memories of trauma, and the negative emotions that come from that. Throughout history, humanity invented numerous philosophical systems that help us ‘reduce’ this heaviness, so to speak, such as Stoicism, Cynicism, and Buddhism. At the core of these systems lies the ability to let go of specific thoughts, whether by rational thinking (and weeding out irrational thoughts) or by calming the mind through meditation.
Also, in Christian practice, there’s this ritual of confessing one’s sins, which is a way to cleanse oneself of the burdens of carrying them around. In Stoicism, it’s not just about bad memories or worries about the future; it’s also about the heaviness of desire and aversion. We can experience this heaviness ourselves. Desiring something comes with a certain magnitude. The same is true for aversion, which is fundamentally the same as desire but geared toward not having or encountering something.
Desiring something implies a lack of something. It’s a feeling of dissatisfaction, an idea that occupies our minds and makes us restless. Strong desires can wear us out. And when these desires remain unsatisfied, the emotions resulting from that become burdensome. I don’t feel “light” when I’m in this constant state of ‘wanting’ and dissatisfaction. Lightness occurs when I feel content, no longer in need or want.
Something interesting about philosophical systems like those we find in Stoicism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, etc., is an emphasis on non-attachment and letting go of material things as well. Buddhist monks don’t have possessions besides a few robes and an eating bowl. The extremely minimalist philosopher Diogenes the Cynic went a step further as he disposed of his bowl (well, it was a drinking cup, to be honest) after seeing a child drinking from a pond using his hands.
Also, there are Christians who decide to simplify their lives, let go of wealth and possessions, and focus on contemplation and prayer; some even go and live a monastic life, which is inherently minimalistic. One of my Muslim friends told me that she doesn’t focus on wealth because she won’t take it with her into the afterlife, and seeking wealth also distracts her from her relationship with God. Stoic philosopher Epictetus advised his students not to attach to things outside of their control, such as material possessions, because by doing that, they grant them the power to influence their mental state.
He also argued that you can’t both become a sage and desire lesser things (material things in this case) simultaneously; it’s the one or the other. The sages of old saw possessions (or attachment to them, at least) as distractions, burdens that weighed them down on their path, a path only available to those who travel light.
So, what does the idea of traveling light through life look like? After global pestilence, lockdowns, and curfews, I decided to travel. I have the luxury of working anywhere as long as there’s an internet connection and a quiet place to work and record my scripts, which most hotel rooms are suitable for. I generally travel slowly, taking my time to immerse myself in the place I’m in.
Regarding baggage, I’ve reduced most things to the bare minimum, but not to the point that it becomes inconvenient. It’s very minimalist to take just two T-shirts on your trip, but then you’ll have to wash them daily, which isn’t time-efficient. I take my small laptop, an extra screen, a mic, and other small accessories. So, the equipment I need to run this YouTube channel fits in this bag, which is quite awesome when I think of it.
Call me crazy, but I see my travels as a metaphor for traveling light through life. I only need this yellow suitcase and a black sports bag to work and live. Sometimes, when I’m in my hotel room looking at my stuff, I’m amazed at how few things I need to function. And you guessed it: it feels light. Maybe that’s why I enjoy traveling so much; it’s an unforgettable, inspiring, often transforming experience that, to me at least, requires minimal material possessions.
The mere idea that when I move from one country to another, all I have on me is that yellow suitcase and black bag gives me a sense of freedom and non-attachment as if nothing material tethers me to the ground. When I roll my luggage toward the airport check-in desk, it’s as if my whole life consists of myself and what’s in my hands (which actually isn’t true because I also have my stuff at home. Besides, I also depend on the home front to check my mail, and things like that).
Still, it’s an exhilarating experience every time. It also reminds me of playing Skyrim as a wood-elf that I trained to use light armor and weapons. Wood elves are small, light creatures with stealthy abilities, such as sneaking, spying, and stealing. They’re speedy, and their lightness adds a dimension of freedom to the gaming experience.
Traveling light makes you agile. Agility makes a person flexible. For example, when traveling, when I don’t like a place, I just pack my bags and go elsewhere: my time is too valuable to spend in places I don’t like. Such agility I value in life in general as well. Imagine all your possessions, mortgage, and other responsibilities and obligations tethering you to the ground so that you can't move whenever you want to steer your life in another direction.
It means you’re stuck. It means that whatever stuff you’re holding on to weighs you down. But aside from not being weighed down by outside circumstances, I think the ultimate way of traveling light through life is to be ‘light between the ears.’ It’s ‘not being encumbered’ by all these worries about the future, the bad memories of the past, the many desires and aversions, all these ideas floating around in our minds.
When the mind is light, the body gets light. It doesn’t matter how minimalist you are or if all your possessions fit in a suitcase; if your mind is burdensome, traveling light becomes a heavy task. Thank you for watching.