Minimalist living, especially in big cities like Tokyo, has always fascinated me. A few years ago, I rented a 25 square meter Airbnb condo in Tokyo for a few weeks and attempted to live as much like a local as possible. I went to local supermarkets to buy and cook my own meals everyday, strolled around the neighboorhood to patronize the smallest shops, and commuted by packed trains to the commercial districts. I thoroughly enjoyed my experience and didn’t miss anything a much bigger house can offer. But I always wonder what a long term stay would be like. So when I saw the book 东京八平米 (Living in a 8-sqm home in Tokyo), I knew that I must read it.
The author Yoshii Shinobu provides a very lively writeup of city dwelling, especially on the strong contrast between small vs big, has vs hasn’t. Her strength lies in her ability to leverage city amenities to the maximum, to increase her quality of life. She has been living around the world for 20 years. After a divorce in China, she returned to Japan to reboot her midlife. She deliberately chooses to live in a 8 square meter apartment without most modern amenities such as bathroom, laundry, etc. Instead, she got all these outside. Through her eyes, I gain the knowledge that small doesn’t automatically translate to constraints. If we live in a big city like Tokyo that offers everything for everyone, we do not need to own everything, or do everything ourselves.
a rich cultural life
By severely reducing her housing cost, Yoshiii has a much bigger slice of income to spend on cultural endeavors such as art exhibitions, film viewing, concerts, and events that enrich her life tremendously. She also gains financial freedom from not needing to work so much, and thus can devote more time to activities she enjoys. In addition, she feels better when travelling extensively, as she is not paying high rent for a vacant house in one of the most expensive cities to live
What makes such a small home tolerable is that in a metropolis such as Tokyo, endless opportunities for entertainment, work and distraction exists. Everything can be outsourced so you can minimalize your home to be just a place for sleep and rest.
working through constraints
Small doesn’t always mean constrained. By reducing to minimum inside, you open a door to a much bigger outside world, waiting for you to explore.
When there are so many constraints and everything is minimalized, some might find it suffocating and pitiful. Yoshii instead follows the constraints and through finding solutions, she reconnects with the world and helps her to reposition herself in the society during life rebooting at middle age. Collecting stories while satisfying her daily needs outside (daily requirements that cannot be done in her house), that suits her as an author and story collector. Is this better for rebooting than just to stay home with everything conveniently at hand?
From her experiences, I see that everything has a solution and it might actually bring you unexpected gifts. It seems like each daily activity is a detour from the assumption (everything done inside home), but the detours expose a bigger world.
What suits one well is very individual and subjective. Many might find the small room unacceptable and pity her, but she is happy with her current life and enjoys what she can find outside.
recalibrate to reboot
When you are rebooting life after a major setback like Yoshii, only you know your pace and what you really enjoy. Through talking with others, she got lost in others’ memory while trying to find a place to reestablish her position and value in society after leaving Japan for 20 years. The constant recalibration of her thinking by establishing external references allows her to gradually resettle in her home country.
what I learnt from this book
The book has encouraged me to ask the question “can this be outsourced?” and “is this the absolute minimum that is deemed necessary in such context?” not just when making purchases, but also for planning projects. It is also a bit similar to Just Enough Design in placing a restraint on adequacy. The book also reminds me of the BAT hotel, a hospitality trend that lowers the price by reducing unnecessary service and amenities, leveraging external providers to satisfy users’ extra needs.
A big city offers both the convenience and rich variety of goods and services that accommodate different lifestyles. It also offers dwellers the freedom to choose or not choose anything. What the author practices aligns with some minimalists who maximizes the perks of a city to minimize their dwelling. For them, the grocery store is your fridge so you don’t need to stock up, the restaurant is your dining room, a relaxing coffee shop is your living room (similar to the 3rd wave coffee movement elsewhere). In essence, the whole city becomes our home. In this way, not only do we reduce what we need to own, but we change our mentality that we must have X to live. The flexibility of “extension” means we can comfortably move from places to places without being attached to a particular home or location, and do away with the anxiety that comes with it. Minimizing the self, we are both agile and free and can quickly settle in a place and bloom.