The internet, minimalism and renunciation

The age of social media is a dangerous one. I have been not so supportive of Facebook’s actions and direction — all conversations being purely hypothetical, of course. A Facebook post though, caught my fancy recently; one of rising minimalism in Japan. I was surprised, since I thought those fuckers in Japan were the only ones smart enough to have sense to practise something like this in the first place. Couldn’t really see much of a rising. What captured my sudden attention but were the images of the 150 things that this person owns. Yeah, he owns 150 things, yeah, just one fucking fifty. That bit of jamboree exists in one of Sonam’s wardrobes, which incidentally was the next post I saw — reaffirming an already firm belief, that if you rely on Social Media for reading, you’re doomed to perpetual hell.

I digress. So, this freak of God, has 150 things. He has a coffee grinder, which looks polished and new, 4 shirts, a couple of pants maybe, 2 bags, and so on. What was interesting though, that I would have given quite a bit to own any of those 2 bags. Simple, yet classy, like elegance always is. Then he says something which I found very intriguing; he says, there is no noise in my house. Think about what he’s saying, right. Because he owns so few things, he can walk around his house, keep doing his shit and there would be absolutely no noise, no dishes clattering, no moving parts colliding and creating a fucking racket, none of that. This correlation between peace and silence though, caught my attention very recently again.

I’m in Ladakh, will be here for the next month. I woke up today to the chirping of the birds, no kidding motherfucker — chirping of little tweetie birds. I look outside and there was soft sunlight on top on willow trees and a blue sky as clear as I could imagine. I was told that last year, this time in Leh, it was awfully cold. Thankfully, I am here this year. There are no sounds here either. Quiet and serene, the place makes you instantly at peace. And I begun to imagine, what basic components does one need for a peaceful life. Is the peacefulness of one’s existence inversely correlated to the number of things one owns?

I stayed in Ho Chi Minh City for a couple of nights before coming here, a place owned by someone known as Yen. Yen was not around, and preferred if we could self check out. He had left detailed instructions on mail and in print about how to do so, where to leave the keys. The room that we were staying in was a minimalist one, purely monochromatic, save for our colourful clothes. White walls, three large windows with sliding glass and then wooden pivoted windows on top. If you opened up the wooden flanks, sunlight would come streaming in, reflecting off the walls, creating a small lit haven. If you shut all the wooden planks, you had quiet darkness. No ceiling fan, something I’ve gotten accustomed to, growing up in regions where electricity is scarce. Quiet air-conditioning which takes its time, but cools down the room pretty fine. The floor was chequered with white and black square tiles. The bed sheet was of a similar geometric pattern, so were the pillow cases, the bed spread. Above the bed were a few quotes and images, all monochromatic. The bed itself was a series of wooden planks, barely rising three quarters of a feet from the ground, with space for your shoes to be neatly stacked all around. A small table to the right, with a chair and a table lamp. A small cupboard to the left with 6 drawers and a wooden pole running across on the top with hangers. Clothes, visible in plain sight. A mirror stands against one of the walls, frameless. 2 potted plants.

I stayed in the room for 2 nights and my girlfriend and me were left wanting of nothing. Every single item in the room had a purpose and a definitive place in the room. It was easy to keep it neat and there was plenty of walking around space even within limited square feet of flooring. Makes you wonder why we need to own so much in the first place. Shopping is not a natural phenomenon. if you need something, you go out and get it, but shopping these days hardly comes to that. In fact, that bit of essential shopping is often relegated to hyper local delivery idiots and the maid. When we go out to shop, we’ve stopped making lists, because lists work both ways., Not only are you suppose to pick up everything on that list, but you are also supposed not to pick up anything not on it, since if it were important enough, it should have been on the list in the first place. Going to a store and looking around, is about as stupid as looking at photographs of unknown people vacationing, yet we seem to do both. This desire of looking around is not akin to discovery. I have in all my life living in Mumbai, never discovered a single item that I did not know existed. The opposite has happened a bunch of times, where I have gone to a store and asked around for something, only to be repeated and continually disappointed.

The internet and media today might thrive on feeding you a lot that you never needed in the first place, junk information, if you would call it. A specialisation in nanotech cannot be achieved by scrolling through the internet. Yes, it might make you cognisant of the work done by others, thereby increasing your efficiency as you need not waste time discovering what has already been discovered and as such is a great tool, but the discovery happens by yourself, doesn’t it? The internet serves as a tool, but is the cost of distraction too high? No invention can be brought into this world if the first consideration be, what might fools do with it. The internet is clever, agile and adaptable. There is only so much difference between what an extremely smart person and a dumb to hell (but sane) person can do with a piece of sharp wood. The same is not true for the internet. Hence, the need increases for us to make sure internet enabled humans are smarter, not hope that the internet will make them smarter. To make sure that those wielding this tool are capable and worthy, not hope that the tool makes them capable and worthy. But maybe, the internet is smarter than all of us and has its own grand plans. Who knows, whatever they might be minimalism doesn’t seem to feature in there.

An ordained buddhist monk was bound by monastic rules to live as a true mendicant and to carry few possessions. The earliest Indian list of permissible possessions numbered only eight: three monastic robes; an alms bowl; a mendicant’s staff; a water flask; a sieve for straining water; and a blanket or a towel. The monk was also permitted a belt, needle and thread, toothpick and razor. Later that list was modified to include simple footwear, meditation mat, summer fan, and rain cover. For the ordained nun were added the necessities of an underskirt and a belt for supporting a menstrual cloth.

Wonder when they will add Facebook to this list.