The fabric of modern society is designed to make us spend. Advertisements are relentless, painting a picture that says we’re only part of the world if we buy into it, literally. The message is always the same: get the latest phone, the fanciest car, buy that dream vacation. They are sold to us as the keys to happiness.
But when you get to my age, and you’ve watched the decades fly by, you start to remember a time when life moved a little slower, when there wasn’t this constant, overwhelming push to acquire more. It was this realization, and a deep, weary exhaustion, that led me to make a drastic choice many years ago. I decided to downsize, completely. I sold my large home and moved onto a narrow boat.
If you’ve ever seen one, you’ll know they are tiny—just fifty feet long and less than seven feet wide. There is no closet for clutter on a boat like that. It forces you to confront everything you own. I spent days going through boxes of things I hadn’t touched in decades.
I found appliances I didn’t even remember owning. At one point, I counted no fewer than five coffee makers. It felt physically painful to part with so much stuff, all that weight I’d been carrying around for years. But once I finally started letting go, something inside me shifted.
I began to feel lighter, freer. It wasn’t just old furniture and knick-knacks I was getting rid of; it was years of unnecessary burden. It was like Atlas finally shrugging the sky off his shoulders. So many of us were told in our youth that having more meant being more.
More possessions meant more status, more success. We were bombarded with the message that we were only part of the system if we bought into it. But with the wisdom that only years can give, many of us finally realize that happiness doesn’t live in our closets or garages. The truth is, consuming doesn’t fill the deeper needs of our hearts.
This isn’t to say I’m against capitalism. I think it has its place. It encourages competition and lets businesses create things we genuinely need, and they make a fair profit for doing so. If someone bakes a good loaf of bread and sells it to me for a little more than it cost them to make, that’s fair.
They do the work, and I get to enjoy the bread. The problem comes when we start buying for the sake of buying, chasing a new phone or a fancier jacket that we didn’t even know we wanted until an ad told us we should. The older I get, the clearer it becomes: so many things we thought were necessities were never really needed at all. Life isn’t about chasing trends.
It’s about experiences, relationships, and moments of peace. Now, I won’t pretend choosing to live simply in this complex, noisy world is always easy. It goes completely against the grain. Everyone else seems to be buying, upgrading, and keeping up.
If you step off that treadmill, you might feel like the odd one out for a while. Friends and family might not understand your choices. They might ask why you’re giving things away, or why you don’t want the newest model of whatever they’re excited about. But that’s okay.
Over time, the peace you feel will speak for itself. When you stop focusing on things, you suddenly have room in your life to start focusing on doing. Maybe that means rediscovering an old hobby that always made you smile, like knitting or painting, but you never had time for. Maybe it means you start gardening again, growing your own vegetables and flowers.
You might spend your mornings walking in the park, or spend more time reading a good book. When the distractions fade, space opens up for simple pleasures that truly nourish us. And as we age, what makes us happy often changes anyway. Those grand, flashy experiences lose their magic.
Instead, we find our joy in the little things: a cup of tea on a crisp morning, watching the birds gather at the feeder, or the gentle, easy chatter with a friend. These small moments are so easy to overlook when we’re busy consuming, but they become treasures when we slow down. They don’t cost a dime, yet they are worth infinitely more than we realize. Of course, the pull of consumerism didn’t just disappear when I made my choice.
The temptation remains. It’s so easy to be drawn in by a good sale or an enticing ad. How many times have we all opened a shopping website, not really needing anything, and ended up with a cart full of stuff we never knew we wanted? It’s the oldest trick in the book, convincing us we are missing out unless we buy more.
But here’s the good news: like any habit, resisting gets easier with practice. Start small. Try going a day without buying anything. Then two days.
Then a week. Over time, you’ll feel that itch to shop fade. You’ll feel more content with what you already have. And you’ll discover you need less income than you thought to feel secure and fulfilled.
When you stop spending so much time and money acquiring things, you’ll find you have more space in your life—not just in your cupboards, but in your mind. The financial freedom this brings is one of the greatest gifts of a slow, simple life. When you aren’t constantly buying things you don’t need, you save money. That money can go toward a trip to visit family, taking better care of your health, or simply providing a cushion so you don’t have to worry as much.
Instead of working to maintain a lifestyle built on consumption, you can spend your time enjoying the fruits of your labor. You also get the chance to listen to your body, to prioritize your health. You notice when you need to rest, when you need to move, when you need good food and fresh air. Connecting with nature—whether it’s gardening, walking in the park, or just sitting outside with your thoughts—does wonders for your mind and body.
Studies show time in nature lowers stress and improves mental clarity. With less pressure to keep up with everyone else, you have the freedom to focus on the most precious thing you have: your well-being. As we grow older, it’s natural to reflect on the choices we’ve made, the road we’ve traveled. When you choose a slow life, you give yourself the space to do that reflection well.
And you’ll likely find you don’t regret the things you didn’t buy or the trends you didn’t follow. What you cherish are the moments; the people you loved, and the simple afternoons that made your heart feel full. Maybe, like me, you hope to leave a legacy that isn’t measured by possessions. I want my children and grandchildren to remember not what I owned, but how I chose to live.
I want to pass on a legacy of simplicity, mindfulness, and finding joy in the ordinary. To show them that true happiness doesn’t come from having more, but from appreciating what you already have. Choosing the slow life—spending less, finding happiness in simplicity—might not be the easiest path, but it is one of the most rewarding for those of us in the later seasons of life. It’s a chance to step away from the rush and cherish what truly matters.
It’s a chance to find peace and fulfillment right where we are. It is a journey truly worth taking.