Minimalist or Intentionalist? I’m Just Trying Not to Drown in My Own Stuff

You know the feeling: you watch one minimalist documentary, toss half your belongings, feel enlightened for a day โ€” and then realize you just donated your only phone charger.

Minimalism sounds noble. Clean lines, empty drawers, and that magical freedom of โ€œowning less.โ€ And honestly, I’ve always been attracted to the idea. Not just the lifestyle, but especially the look of it.

I fell in love with minimalist design long before I ever thought about decluttering anything. It started with architecture โ€” sleek, modern lines and open spaces. Then came Japanese traditional interiors: wood, paper, and space to breathe. iPhones, high-end audio amplifiers, minimalist Hi-Fi speakers… they all spoke to something in me. Simplicity. Clarity. Precision.

But did that make me a minimalist?

Not really.

I never quite crossed the line into actual minimalist living. I still had cluttered drawers, more tech gadgets than I care to admit, and a bookshelf that seemed to grow behind my back. The aesthetic pulled me in, but the lifestyle never fully stuck.

Then, one day, while I was chatting with ChatGPT (yes, that happens more than I care to confess), I asked for some feedback on a habit I had. And in the response, this term came up: intentionalist.

I was intrigued.

Turns out, theyโ€™re not quite the same thing.


Minimalism: The Aesthetic of Less

Minimalism says:

โ€œOwn nothing. Buy less. Live light.โ€

You picture white walls, one chair, and maybe a perfectly folded linen napkin. Itโ€™s about reducing clutter, owning fewer items, and eliminating the excess. And yes, thereโ€™s something soothing about that.

But hereโ€™s the catch: you can have almost nothing โ€” and still feel overwhelmed.

Because stuff isn’t the only thing weighing us down. Sometimes it’s the pressure to live up to the ideal of minimalism itself. You go from questioning what you own to questioning yourself: “Am I allowed to have this? Should I feel guilty about enjoying things?”

That’s when I realized:
Owning less doesnโ€™t always mean living better.


Intentionalism: The Meaning Behind What You Keep

Intentionalism says:

โ€œKeep what matters. Use what serves. Live on purpose.โ€

Itโ€™s not about how much you own โ€” itโ€™s about why you own it. That ugly mug from your grandfather? Keep it. It makes you smile. That dusty yoga mat you keep tripping over but never use? Maybe it’s time to let it go.

Intentionalism invites you to pause and ask:

  • Do I actually use this?
  • Does it support who I am or who Iโ€™m becoming?
  • Am I keeping this out of guilt or joy?

And the best part? There’s no pressure to live in a neutral-toned room with exactly 32 objects.

Itโ€™s not an academic term or a movement. Itโ€™s more like a mindset. A flexible way of living that doesnโ€™t ask you to strip everything away, just to keep what fits your life with meaning and purpose.


Real Talk:

Minimalism once had me apologizing for having two teacups.
Intentionalism? It lets me own five โ€” because they all tell a story, and I actually use them when people come over.

It also helped me make peace with my collection of headphones, amps, and speakers. I used to feel guilty for owning so many โ€” until I realized each one serves a different purpose. Oneโ€™s for deep listening at night. Anotherโ€™s perfect for background music while I work. Theyโ€™re not clutter โ€” theyโ€™re tools Iโ€™ve chosen with care.

And thatโ€™s the key:
Intentionalism isnโ€™t about having less. Itโ€™s about letting what you own serve you โ€” not the other way around.

So if youโ€™ve got six cutting boards, three bike helmets, or a drawer full of vintage cameras โ€” and they all serve your life? Keep them. Use them. Enjoy them.

You donโ€™t need permission to live your life your way. Just intention.


Closing Thought:

In the end, I realized I donโ€™t want to live like a monk or own only what fits in a suitcase.

I just want to live on purpose.

To let the stuff around me support a life I love โ€” not weigh it down.

So no, Iโ€™m not a minimalist.
Iโ€™m an intentionalist with messy drawers, a deep love for well-designed gadgets, and a rotating cast of headphones that each bring joy in their own way.

And honestly? That feels just right.

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This blog is for thoughtful adults who are starting again โ€” in learning, creativity, or life โ€” and want to grow steadily without noise or pressure.

Here youโ€™ll find daily reflections and practical guides shaped by lived experience. The focus is on learning through doing: building consistency, adapting to change, and finding clarity in everyday practice.

The stories and guides here come from real processes โ€” creative experiments, hands-on projects, life in rural Japan, working with nature, and learning new skills step by step. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is polished for performance. The aim is steady progress, honest reflection, and practical insight you can actually use.

If youโ€™re curious about life in Japan, learning new skills at your own pace, or finding a calmer, more intentional way forward, youโ€™re in the right place.

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