Japanese minimalism
We've now completed 2% of 2026. Yes, I am counting, because it's as easy as approximating one week (1.92%) ≈ 2%. I don't want to give the impression that treating time as linear is the objective here (or that it's even the reasonable thing to do because we're not calibrated like machines). Rather, I want to prompt pausing to consider how time is spent.
To those who set for themselves goals or resolutions this year, how's it going so far?
My sense is that most have their first week filled with passionate intensity, which begins to shake as the reality of change sets in: it's not going to be easy to sustain new routines or mindsets with passion alone. Alternatively, some view the first week as a write-off, because depending on their goals, they're still in the holiday season and just getting ready to go back to school, work, etc. This may only postpone the dip in enthusiasm by a couple weeks, if one is not careful.
What does being careful entail? I think having the sense that the year is both long and short. It is long enough to grant time to pursue intentions (98% is nearly whole!); it is short in that time passes by with or without us (2% has come and gone!).
On my end, because my intentions this year are less concerned with what I do and more with how I do things, I've been reflecting on Japanese minimalism. For one, I've been thinking of doing a full round of the KonMari method to declutter my living space. The new year's sense of renewal inspires such thoughts. As I've been meditating on Miyamoto Musashi's Dokkōdō, I find several precepts to be well-aligned with minimalism:
- I will give preference to nothing among all things.
- I will be free of desire throughout my entire life.
- I will have no luxury in my house.
- I will not own anything that will one day be a valuable antique.
- Weapons are of the highest importance to me, I will not concern myself with other things.
Truthfully, when I think of what I possess, I have more than enough in terms of books, music, video games, board games, stationery, clothes, and technology. I am in fact in a position to consider paring down. Having a backlog of options when it comes to entertainment, having a fatiguing amount of choices in what to wear and use: I am in effect living a life of over-indulgence and merely collecting tools.
The above precepts are a reminder to regard possessions (Miyamoto's sense of weapons = my sense of tools) practically. Collecting things (whether in the form of hoarding clothes and books, or literally pursuing collectibles) is a form of luxury which ends up being a burden, because when does it stop?
(Granted, samurai living in 17th-century Japan had a culturally relevant connection to their weapons, perhaps even at the spiritual level. In my life, I've yet to discern what is of the highest importance to me, but I wish to avoid finding the answer in physical objects.)
All of this to say: not all resolutions need to be growth-oriented—the pursuit of accumulation, of more, more, and more. Progress can still be had through reduction: to simplicity, to a sense of tranquility. The former taxes the mind and spirit, because one is conditioned to never be satisfied. The latter finds equilibrium through achieving enough.
These are thoughts I'll have in mind the next time I do laundry and clean up my room.