Here is the full text of minimalism coach Rose Lounsbury’s talk titled “How Many Towels Do You Need?” at TEDxDayton conference. In this talk, she shares how to move towards a minimalist lifestyle and how it has improved her life.
TRANSCRIPT:
How many towels do you need?
This was a question I faced on a Saturday afternoon in early 2012 as I scrutinized my linen cupboard. I had just started on a minimalist journey, inspired by my 1,500-square-foot house that could no longer comfortably contain the possessions of me, my husband and our three three-year-olds.
Yes, you heard it right — triplets.
The issue of our stuff had come to a head a few weeks earlier. We had returned from visiting relatives for Christmas, our van packed with gifts.
As I walked into our house and assessed our already stuffed surroundings, a slow, frightening realization came upon me. We didn’t have room for the things we already owned.
Where was I going to put this new stuff? I considered my options. We could buy a bigger house. We could buy no one Christmas presents anymore, ever.
But then a friend suggested a better idea: minimalism. Live with just what you need. Hmm. Never really thought about that.
But back to my linen cupboard. There I was, facing a literal tower of towels and one simple question: How many towels do you need? The answer was surprisingly clear: two per person.
But that’s only 10 towels for a family of five. Certainly wasn’t the message I received from Better Homes and Gardens Magazine. They told me I needed different colored towels for every season. Ten towels just didn’t feel right.
So I went down to the basement where my husband, Josh, was blissfully watching Saturday sports to ask him a very important question.
“Honey, is it OK if we have just 10 towels?”
After a long pause, during which, I’m sure, Josh deeply pondered the critical issue of our towel supply, he responded with “Umm. Yeah?”
That settled it. Ten towels. That was six years ago.
In that time, I have not increased our number of towels. And everyone in our family has been dry when they needed to be dry. So this early venture into minimalism taught me two very clear things: One, I can live with a lot less than I think I can, and two, I can definitely live with a lot less than society tells me I should.
We’ve all heard the phrase “less is more,” but what does that look like? Is it selling all your possessions and living out of a backpack? Is it never accepting gifts or having people over for dinner because the only utensil you own is one single spork?
[read more]
My favorite definition of minimalism comes from 19th century designer William Morris, who said, “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.”
Those two words, “useful” and “beautiful,” are the checkpoints I use to decide whether or not items are welcome in my home. “Is it useful to me?” and “I know it to be useful” — meaning I actually use it.
We’re not talking about potentially useful objects here. We’re all pretty familiar with those.
But what about those items we believe to be beautiful? I’d like to introduce you to the naked blue lady. My mom painted this as a wedding gift for my aunt and uncle in 1974.
Decades later, after Josh and I got married, we visited my aunt and uncle and bemoaned the bare walls in our first apartment. My aunt immediately ran down to the basement — true story — and came back, dusting off this naked blue lady that she’d been hanging on to for the past 30 years.
Now, some pretty obvious and time-delayed regifting. But my aunt was demonstrating a basic minimalist principle: Let go of the things that are not beautiful to you so they can be beautiful to someone else.
And I’ll tell you, if you came to my house today and we had a cup of coffee, we’d be drinking it right under the gaze of this beautiful naked blue lady.
And while we’re on the subject of regifting: What the heck do you do when other people give you stuff you don’t want? I’d like everyone to take a moment and think about a time someone gave you something you didn’t want. It shouldn’t take long.
If at some point in time, we’ve all received a gift we didn’t want, it follows that at some point in time, we’ve all given someone else a gift that they didn’t want.
A few years ago, I helped my best friend minimize her wardrobe, and we stumbled upon a pair of sheep-print pajama pants that I had given to her in 1999. I insisted that she let me put those in the donation bag myself.
So, let’s just accept that it’s OK to let go of unloved gifts, and you don’t have to wait decades to do it because it’s completely normal to give people things they don’t want. It’s truly the nature of gift-giving.
But I’d like to teach you two words that will help you in any gift-giving situation. You may be familiar with them.
[THANK YOU]
When someone gives you a gift, say “thank you.” Once you’ve done that, your obligation to the gift and the giver is done. And it’s now yours.
If it’s useful or beautiful to you, by all means, keep it. And if it’s not, well, for Pete’s sake, let it go so it could be useful or beautiful to someone else.
Now, of course, there are a million other reasons we hang on to things we don’t need. Whether it’s sentimental or we spent a lot of money on it or we’re afraid that we’ll need a lifetime supply of cable-knit sweaters to survive the zombie apocalypse, it all boils down to the same thing: If we don’t use it or love it, let it go.
Can I tell you a secret? The real benefits of minimalism are here and here. I mean, sure, it’s great to have clear counters and be able to find your keys, but the reason I stay a minimalist has nothing to do with the way my house looks and everything to do with the way I feel.
Once I let go of everything that didn’t matter to me — and it took about eight months total — I discovered three amazing things.
First, free time. I started spending my evenings reading for pleasure instead of picking up my stuff.
Second, peace of mind. I felt calm and relaxed in my home and comfortable with people just dropping by.
And third, clarity. For the first time since having kids, I had mental space to think and dream, which resulted in some really unexpected changes, like starting a business and writing a book — things I didn’t even have the mental capacity to consider when I spent all my energy dealing with my stuff.
I believe that the physical state of our homes mirrors the mental state of our heads. And if our homes are full of things… You know where I’m going.
If our homes are full of things we don’t need, use or love, well, our minds are full of it too. So as you get home today and you’re moving through your house, think to yourself, “How much do I need? How many coffee cups or pairs of shoes or boxes of holiday decorations?”
And as you start to peel away the layers of physical stuff in your life, I believe you’ll be surprised to find what’s underneath: everything that truly matters.
