thenuminousminimalist

[thenuminousminimalist]

I really loved it! You'll be posting more, I hope?

Hey there! Thank you for asking a question (so amped it's my first one). Sadly I will not be continuing these blog posts as it was part of a 10-day body intervention. But, I'm considering starting a blog where I'll be sharing the same type of unsolicited advice and daily lil'tidbits. And, if I do, I'll be sure to invite you. Again, thank you so much for reading and asking. You are awesome!

[thenuminousminimalist]

ten | ten

It's the final day of my body intervention. For the last ten days I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Here is what you've missed so far:

Day one: facing the day without a mask proves challenging. 

Day two: my eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: I love being at my judgement-free home. 

Day four: I need to be less self-absorbed.

Day five:  I refuse to be a prisoner of products.

Day six:  real forgiveness is in one's own self.

Day seven: time to live more and exist less.

Day eight: I need to become more self-aware and aware of others.

Day nine: step up, stop whining, and make it happen.

I went out to buy toothpaste today. Just a quick dash to the store. Same game plan as always: third isle, second row on the left. In and out in 10 minutes max, like always.  Easy peasy, right?

Not today it wasn't. As luck would have it, my favourite variant was sold out. I don't know why, but my very first thought was along the lines of "I do not like their choice of font. The 'Sorry, out of stock' signs just doesn't look 'sorry' enough". I have no idea what a "sorry" font looks like. All I know is that a generic all-caps-apology does not make up for the inconvenience.

Whitening, brightening, sensitive, herbal, smokers, buy-one-get-one-free, minty fresh, eucalyptus, spearmint, berry-mint, and a whole bunch of cavity protection and pinky-swears by stock model dentists.

Nonetheless, more than an hour later, I unwillingly settled for second best. Strange, who would have thought that something as mundane as choosing toothpaste could be so overwhelming? One thing is sure: the oral health market needs new copy on its boxes.

It pains me to think I could have been studying for tomorrow's test. What a waste of time. It reminds me of those mornings before my closet purge. It took an average of sixty minutes to decide what I felt like wearing. The beauty, I have come to learn, of a minimalist closet is that everything goes with everything; I love every single clothing item, and the fact that it's the perfect size.

By having clear objectives with what you want and like with regards to your style, it's easy to avoid buying the stuff you don't really need. I'm sticking to this. Period.

If anything, I have learned the value of my time. Too much choice is a distraction. It steals your time and makes you lose focus on your long-term goals. It's a deceitful beast that lures you away with the promise of instant gratification.

There is no denying it. Consumerism is inescapable. Unless, of course, you're a hermit existing on an island that's smack dab in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean.

The End.

[thenuminousminimalist]

nine | ten

It's day nine of my body intervention. As mentioned before, I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Here is what you missed on the previous days:

Day one: facing the day without a mask proves challenging. 

Day two: my eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: I love being at my judgement-free home. 

Day four: I need to be less self-absorbed.

Day five:  I refuse to be a prisoner of products.

Day six:  real forgiveness is in one's own self.

Day seven: time to live more and exist less.

Day eight: I need to become more self-aware and aware of others.

I really wish I did some laundry yesterday. I had nothing to wear this morning. My closet was quite literally empty. Yeah, of course, I wanted to get something from the 10-day-untouchable-stack in the other room. But, I needed to stick to the game plan, especially so close to the finish line. What choice did I have other than to recycle from the laundry basket?  After good shake out, some spot cleaning and a quick iron I was sorted.

Let me tell you, there is something really humbling about wearing the same shirt two days in a row. It's hard to appreciate something as simple as a clean shirt if you have a stack of it. And, if you're honest, chances are you don't even like half the shirts you own.

I don't think anyone even noticed. Just like me, everyone else was so pre-occupied with "their thoughts and feelings" that a minor detail like a plain white t-shirt was hardly gossip material. And even if they did notice, they didn’t say anything. Still, I was really self-conscious about it throughout the day. I can think of a million things worse than wearing a dirty shirt.

One of which is the dynamics happening in some of our group projects. I hate not getting along with people. I hate that I can't find a way to relate to some people. I'm talking about the kind of person who constructs ridiculous excuses for not doing their share of the work. And, even though I appreciate their on-the-spot-problem-solving skills, they often go into great detail about their "dramatic experience" to deflect from the fact they haven't done anything. I'm sure you know someone with this modus operandi. To be completely honest, it's not even a big deal. I'm happy to brush it off. But, every so often you'll find one that not only arrives late and empty-handed, but will criticise and nitpick everyone else's work. It just gets under my skin.

I guess it's time to put on my big boy pants. It might even be a good idea to Google some self-help tips and then write a guide with an open-ended statement like: “How to deal when you can’t even”.

[thenuminousminimalist]

eight | ten

Day eight of my ten-day body intervention. Here is what you should know: I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Now, let us recap the last seven days:  

Day one: facing the day without a mask proves challenging. 

Day two: my eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: I love being at my judgement-free home. 

Day four: I need to be less self-absorbed.

Day five:  I refuse to be a prisoner of products.

Day six:  real forgiveness is in one's own self.

Day seven: time to live more and exist less.

It's Monday. Exactly one week since I've started my intervention. The kumquat (the unsolicited companion/pimple that made its appearance on the first day) is now just a tiny red mark.

Physically, I'm still feeling weak. Emotionally, I'm the texture of overcooked pasta. I'm usually so in control of my emotions. And by in control, I'm referring to my ability to block it out. I'm really good at it too. So good I think I should list it under "hobbies". What's particularly peculiar about my overcooked emotional state is that I'm comfortable talking about it.

In fact, it was the act of talking that caught me off guard. My sister and her best friend are staying with me for the week, and as the conversation evolved into reminiscence and laughter, I suddenly became aware of how aware they were about me. Not only am I taking up a space, but my presence brings meaning to that moment (this conclusion is based on how I love seeing my sister throw her head back when she laughs). I’ve never really thought about self-awareness and the awareness of others in this way. It’s clear that I've become oblivious to the extent of my isolation over the last few days. In comparison to tonight, the previous nights are blurred. I can't remember what I did or what I ate.

Interesting to notice how different our environment and experiences become when we share them with others.

Could their presence be the main ingredient in me being al dente with my overcooked emotional state? Who knows? One thing is for sure, sisters are like coffee in the morning. By your side at the right time, warm and always welcome.

[thenuminousminimalist]

seven | ten

It's the seventh day of my ten-day body intervention. The 411 is that I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Here is what you've  missed so far:  

Day one: facing the day without a mask proves challenging. 

Day two: my eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: I love being at my judgement-free home. 

Day four: I need to be less self-absorbed.

Day five:  I refuse to be a prisoner of products.

Day six:  real forgiveness is in one's own self.

I woke up this morning with a new determination. I was going to master the art of not being too hard on myself. But I wasn't quite sure how to do it. My fail-safe to any and every unfamiliar situation is to find a suitable distraction. Nothing spurs motivation like seeing the perfect lies of your friends on Facebook. And, just as I got to the point of if-she-can-do-it-so-can-I, I saw a post that made my heart sink into my feet.

It's a real punch to the gut to learn about a friend's suicide on social media. It really sucks. I don't understand. His posts were always so optimistic and it just doesn't fit. How did I miss the signs? What are the signs?

I can still hear his laugh and see the way his eyes sank into his smile. I hate that I'm writing about him in the past tense. I can't help but wonder what talents and influence died with him. How dark, clouded and desperate he must have felt in his last moments.

News of his death is a reality check. The lesson again: forgiveness is key. The forgiveness of others is equally as important as learning to forgive yourself. It's a reminder of how valuable time is. As our lives become more and more clutter, wanting the things we don't need, we become less aware of our immediate surroundings and consequently we fail to see the needs of those close to you. It has become all too easy to forget how mortal we actually are.

[thenuminousminimalist]

six | ten

It's the sixth day of my ten-day body intervention. By now you know that I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Here is what you missed on the previous days:  

Day one: facing the day without a mask proves challenging. 

Day two: my eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: I love being at my judgement-free home. 

Day four: I need to be less self-absorbed.

Day five:  I refuse to be a prisoner of products.

Today, I was weak. I buckled under the social expectations of my surroundings. I didn't want to be excluded from socialising. I just missed being me. Not the obsessive compulsive minimalist with the tendency to overthink and scrutinise every single detail of every single action.

I didn't overdo it in the way I usually do. But, still I can't help but feel really disappointed with myself. My choices weren't gluttonous, so why am I feeling so guilty? It's like I've opened a big old can of failure. Yeah I know, I broke character. Not cool.  I hate how uncomfortable disappointing myself feels.  

Still, I have to share how delightfully delectable the coffee and muffin was at Vida Cafe. There is just something about a foam cap and coffee made from freshly ground beans that makes my heart skip a beat.

Getting back to my guilt. There is no use crying over spilled milk, or, in this case, a foam cap, right? The trick, I figure, is to not be too hard on yourself. To forgive.

[thenuminousminimalist]

five | ten

It's day five of my body intervention. As mentioned before, I have taken on a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. Here is what you missed on the previous days.

Day one: facing the day without a mask proved challenging. 

Day two: Eating and emotions are intertwined. 

Day three: Newfound appreciation for a judgement-free home.

Day four: Be less self-absorbed.

It's Friday! I've been waiting for this day since last Sunday. I've spent a grand total of R35 the whole week. It could have been less, but I forgot my lunch bag on Tuesday, so I bought the butternut soup at Cape Quater's Spar. Money well spent if you ask me.  

But today I did something I hadn't been able to do in the longest time. I rubbed my eyes. It might seem like no big deal, but oh my! It felt good. I didn't have to worry about smudging or racoon eyes. I have reached a new level of comfortability.  So yeah, I might be trading in my pimples for wrinkles. But, it doesn't matter. I refuse to be a prisoner of products. I was feeling in content with myself.

But then, as I stopped at the gas station the attendant addressed me as "Sir".  No jokes. Of course, I was taken aback. And yes, I guess my minimalistic wardrobe could be classified as androgynous. I couldn't help but wonder if dress code and role practises, like wearing make-up, really had such a big role in the way others perceived me? Then again, it could have been an innocent mistake on the attendant's part. I laughed it off. He laughed with me and apologised. I'm actually very much ok with the thought of being perceived as androgynous. Especially if it means I won't be objectified and catcalled.

[thenuminousminimalist]

four | ten

It's day four of my ten-day body intervention. Here is what you missed so far: as mentioned in previous posts, I have adopted a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. The first day leaving the house without any make-up was my biggest challenge. The second day I had a light bulb moment about food and feelings being intertwined. The third day, I came to appreciate the comforts of home on a whole new level.

Today, Thursday, I've reached a new level of productivity: twenty-two. What a beautiful number that consists of two twos. It also happens to be the amount of minutes I take to get ready in the morning. By not dressing myself as an extension of my personality or my feelings, I'm saving 28 minutes a day.

PRODUCTIVITY = HAPPINESS

I've been keeping to myself the last few days - trying to keep really busy to distract me from the effects of this project. Physically I've been feeling weak. Eating has become a chore. Not really something I want to do, but now a thing I need to do.  This might be affecting my emotional state. I just have a general feeling of being completely drained.

My fellow students at Vega have all been incredibly brave with their body uncomfortable interventions.

Today, during Creative Development, a girl talked about her depression - her intervention was to get off her meds. I would have never thought she had depression. She doesn't necessarily fit the 'depro-mold'. As she was sharing her story, I was just about to reach my level of too-much-information-discomfort when her voice broke. I looked away, but listened. Her honesty was deep and her pain was raw. Yet, she was composed and graceful - incredibly brave. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable nor empathetic. I was inspired.

I've been so pre-occupied with my feelings that I've failed to notice the people around me. I need to be less concerned about what other people think of me, and more concerned about what people around me. It's so easy to forget everybody is fighting their own battle. Even those who don't wear it on their sleeves.

[thenuminousminimalist]

three | ten

It's day three of The Body Uncomfortable intervention. Here is what you missed so far: as mentioned in previous posts, I have adopted a minimalistic lifestyle as an extreme sport. I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. The first day presented itself with various challenges including, but not limited to, leaving the house without any make-up. The second day I had a light bulb moment about emotional well-being and food.

Today, Wednesday, I had a really good day. Ok, no, I'm not going to lie: I had a great day. I stayed at home. Even though I had to study for tomorrow's test, I was happy. Few things in life are as comfortable as sweatpants, a hoody and your own bed.

Even my bowl of misery was a little less miserable this morning. Not sure if it's because I'm getting used to the taste, or because I knew I wasn't going to leave my judgement-free-cocoon today? Don't know, and to be frank I don't care. It's been a while since I've felt this comfortable.

There really isn't much to tell about today. I didn't leave the house, not even to walk the puppies. I was so preoccupied with Critical Studies that I didn't even have time to overthink stuff like "why aren't people reading my blog" or "so glad no-one's reading this stuff".

So yeah, just focussing on tomorrow's test. Not that I'm really stressed about writing, I'm more stressed about waking up so early and finding a parking space. At least I don't have to worry about what to wear. Having limited options really simplifies mundane things like that. It's really starting to grow on me.

[thenuminousminimalist]

This is my 14-piece wardrobe for the next 10 days. I streamlined my closet to the absolute minimum by first separating the pieces I love from the ones I liked. From there I based my selection on comfort, quality and modesty.  

[thenuminousminimalist]

Artist of the week: Frank Stella

Frank Stella (born May 12, 1936) is an American painter and printmaker. He is a significant figure in minimalism and post-painterly abstraction. He is one the most well-regarded postwar American painters who still works today. Stella has reinvented himself in consecutive bodies of work over the course of his five-decade career. After moving to New York City, he reacted against the expressive use of paint by most painters of the abstract expressionist movement, instead finding himself drawn towards the "flatter" surfaces of Barnett Newman's work and the "target" paintings of Jasper Johns. He began to produce works which emphasized the picture-as-object, rather than the picture as a representation of something, be it something in the physical world, or something in the artist's emotional world. 

[thenuminousminimalist]

This is an excerpt from my notebook. I might have understated my level of irritability I experience on that day. Please refer to post "two / ten: All that and a bowl of misery".

[thenuminousminimalist]

two | ten

It's the second day of my intervention, The Body Uncomfortable. Here is what you missed so far: As a requirement for the brief as mentioned earlier, I've streamlined my room, closet, cosmetics and food to the point of physical discomfort. The first day presented itself with various challenges including, but not limited to, leaving the house without any make-up.

Moving swiftly along to today, Tuesday, the most insignificant day of the week. Thanks to my two-faced friend, the snooze button, I overslept. I woke up irritable and annoyed. I know myself well enough not to overthink on mornings like these. So, I wore the first two things I could find and stuck with them. Didn't even bother to look at my kumquat-zit. There is no point of scrutinising the condition of your skin if you can't do anything about it, right? As I was about to leave, I checked the time. Lo and behold, I had 20 minutes to spare. It should be noted that spare time is something I am not familiar with, especially not in the morning. My first thought was to find something else to wear, but then I heard two bears fighting in my stomach. I longed for a cappuccino. Oh, that bitter-sweet taste of foam-heaven! To be honest, I really felt like I deserved a cup. The growling continued and I once again had to unblur my wanting-to-need: I wanted coffee vs. I needed food. 

My body felt weak, but my mind was still strong. I'm doing this minimalism thing and I'm going to make an extreme sport out of it! (I know, it's ridiculous that giving up coffee feels like going on a diet.) 

So I made oats, the way my mother-in-law had shown me. But omitting the salt - it's an added extra, let's face it. I had never truly understood the value of a pinch of salt until the moment of my first spoonful of oats. With no added sugar or milk or honey or raisins or nuts, eating my preferred choice in breakfast was agonising. It was nothing more than a bowl of misery. 

On the bright side, I wasn't hungry anymore and it distracted me from remembering that I wasn't completely comfortable with what I was wearing and the "no make-up" thing. 

During Critical Studies, I couldn't help but reflect on what happened this morning. Is it possible for the taste of food to have an effect on the way I feel? Oats with or without salt and honey did its job by making me feel physically full. But somehow, the bowl of misery made me feel unhappy and miserable. Now that I've taken "taste" out of the picture I can't help but wonder how long I've been living to eat and not eating to live?

[thenuminousminimalist]

Not simply simplicity, minimalism eliminates nonessentials, seeking a refinement of form dictated by function. Often involving technological innovation, the results may be simple but the execution is not. 

Cal DeanMinimal Geometric Shapes 

[thenuminousminimalist]

one | ten

Woke up in a mood. I hadn't got much sleep. Hadn't slept at all. I tossed around worried about the day ahead - the first day of The Body Uncomfortable brief. And to make matters worse, it was a Monday.

I really hated having a limited wardrobe. My minimalistic range of options didn't cater for what could quite possibly have been the last sunny day of autumn. I tried everything on at least twice. Eventually settling on black jeans and a stripy top. My pale skin looked transparent. I really wanted to need a pop of colour at that moment. And then, a crimson blotch under my jawline caught my eye. Yes, it's exactly what you think - a spot! But this was no ordinary zit, it was more like a kumquat-sized lobster. Not exactly the pop of colour I'd had in mind. My first thought was to slap some cover stick on that crustacean. My second thought was that there would be no slapping of any kind as make-up did not make the I-really-truly-honestly-need-this-to-survive-for-ten-days cut.

My third thought was to stay at home. The level of physical discomfort I felt at that moment can only be equated to a first-time gyne appointment with a male doctor. I needed to go to class. I wanted to stay home. Needless to say, I missed the first half of critical studies. But we, the kumquat and I, held my head high and went to college. 

My fellow students were really sincere with their comments. But I was still itching in my skin. I avoided mirrors and cringed every time I saw my reflection. And, of course, it got worse. I had a presentation to give in class. As I stood in front of the entire CBC class, my heart and my kumquat were beating in unison. Not the best feeling in the word.

All I kept thinking throughout the day was how good it would feel when I crawled back into bed - into my comfort zone.