Minimalism is underrated. What is it all about young minimalists — primarily straight white males? Have they become minimalists because their career success is too much to bear? Are they young graduates who only start their career? So they’re minimalists set by default? Are they lazy people?
I laughed at the minimalist lifestyle. Living less was a kind of joke to me. It was my dismissal before I embraced a minimalist lifestyle. Now I am one of the minimalists.
There are many misconceptions surrounding minimalism. These are at least what I’ve thought of minimalism before I became a minimalist.
I could breathe this bitterly cold night, shivering beneath your shooting star.
I could hold the moon from the sun, the blue sky from the pouring rain.
I could paint the night to be the day of light, and wash our fading age away.
For the silver heart of yours was young and mine,
For the golden skin of yours blessed me with warmth,
For the vigorous arms of yours wrapped me unharmed,
Only if you asked me.
Before I dig into how I got to embracing minimalism as my final lifestyle choice, let me introduce myself. I am at the age heading toward fifty now. I’m single and live in a 63 square metre one-bedroom apartment in Sydney West suburb. I co-own the house with my parent, so to this extent, I’m lucky enough I don’t pay house rent.
My current casual job in the event industry only pays day to day basis of living cost. I don’t save big because I can’t afford it. Instead, I rely on my saving tin — coin by coin, note…
I’ve been living in a 63 square metre apartment for eight years in Sydney Western suburb. Now it is finally up for sale. But why am I selling my place now if everything is okay? Letting go of the eight-year memories has never been so easy.
Sarah Lindberg, writing for the Healthline website, in her article “How to let go of things from the past”, argues that to let go of the past, you need to make a conscious decision. So you can take control of the situation.
Hence, I decided to sell the apartment and live less in a…
Since the night I met P for a one-night-stand hookup, I can’t stop thinking about him. His smell lingers still. What is his perfume? He smelled good that night. Those balmy lips delighted me. His dark eyes were like two gleaming marbles, warming up the aging, cold soul of mine.
But how did I end up in this state of love? When my last relationship abruptly ended three years ago, I believed I was loveless. After all, in a few years, I’ll be fifty. So heading towards being a senior, single gay man, I finally found peace with myself.
It feels like it has been for ages I haven’t been writing much for Medium. I wanted to write constantly and post regularly, but many priorities of life have taken many turns. Since Medium ended its curation, nothing else could motivate me to write and post any quality blogs.
Once again, I began to ask myself. Why do I write? What makes me keep coming back to this tiny screen to write and whinge about life? If writing on Medium gets you nowhere, are you actually just wasting your time? If Medium rules keep changing, why would writers stay in…
When I visited Bali in January 2013, I wouldn’t have thought that my life had leapt out from a broken heart man to an elevated, enlightened one. At the time, Bali just healed from the wound of religiously motivated violent extremism. Tourism regrew its roots, and sprouts of hopes emerged from its soils. So, where else could you learn resilience? But it wasn’t Bali that healed my broken heart. It wasn’t a temple visit and blessing from a Hindu priest that elevated me from the downfall of humanity and regained my belief in human values.
Along the path of my…
No, it is not happening to the two LGBTQI friends of mine. They just passed away in two separate parts of the world. In fact, no one knew the end of their existence. Their deaths are heard through the wind of rumours. The wind is blowing through Facebook posts, status and messenger.
No one came forward, made a call, gave a visit. Their friends never checked them out if they were okay. They only assumed that you were fine by regular likes, and occasional one-liner responds on Facebook. While behind the walls of their house, they were battling terminal illness…
I got a message from my friend Phil a few months ago. He said he was in Sydney, and wondered if I wanted to catch up with him in town. I haven’t heard from Phil since undergone major surgeries. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, but also it’s comforting to find out finally he got it done.
So I caught a train to Circular Quay station and walked out from the station toward the Museum Of Contemporary Art (MCA). Standing in front of the MCA, I could barely recognise him. He had lost weight so much.
I stumbled upon an old photo taken me back in October 2014. It was the time when I traveled to Ubud and stayed there for a month. Since then, I have always been looking forward to coming back to this tiny village in Central Bali for many good reasons. But why do I, and also for many other travelers, keep coming back to this little village?
When the car ran through windy, narrow roads, lush green terraces of paddy fields with cool tropical breezes, it was warm welcoming. I found myself fall in love with Ubud at first sight.