I’m not the best at trusting myself but it seems to be something most people struggle with. The most difficult things I’ve had to find my way with have involved my children. But now they are growing I’m also faced with trusting myself to make the right decisions about how we live our lives. I find it hard not to first think about what other people would do/think/say. In fact, I’ll pretty much trust anyone else’s opinion before my own when it comes to the big things in life.

When my first daughter was born I read all the books and bought all the things I thought I needed as a parent. I struggled as a new mum. I read books which made me feel utterly inadequate. I should, apparently, have known what my child’s cries meant. Hungry? Tired? Thirsty? Uncomfortable? I had no idea. The cries just sounded like crying to me. I tried and tried to put her to sleep in her own bed. What I really wanted was to have her in my bed but the books told me that was wrong and I didn’t trust myself to disagree. It was hard work and stressful as I tried to live up to the perfection I was reading about.

Our second child was different. I threw the books away and trusted myself. She was carried in a sling for 4 months, slept in our bed, was cuddled whenever she cried and fed whenever I thought she might be hungry. We did baby-led weaning and skipped all the crazy food mashing. It was still hard but I felt I had allowed myself to be myself and that in itself was incredibly liberating.

Other liberating decisions have all involved looking inward and asking ourselves first what we think. What everyone else thinks really must not be allowed to matter as much. The decision to home school was made that way. And now, the decisions we’re making about how we live have to be made that way. Trusting yourself is not easy. What is easy is listening to everyone else. But at the end of the day, the decisions you make about your life have to be your own. Otherwise you haven’t really lived your own life. And who wants to live someone else’s life?

These people are not minimalists. Maybe you could call them accidental minimalists, but being minimal isn’t their intention. Instead they just actually don’t own much and keep the children’s stuff tidied away. They aren’t alone. Few of the houses we go to have evidence of the children who live there. A few artful photos maybe but no toys downstairs or artwork on display. A neighbour is nervous about having toddlers to play at her house in case they make a mess and I’m nervous when I take my children there. Her house is immaculate. Beautiful but impractical. She has a baby boy who is about to start crawling so her days as an accidental minimalist may be numbered.

Houses like this are ostensibly a more successful picture of living without stuff than ours. But they are also a bit cold. It’s my problem with super-minimalism. I like to be surrounded by my girls’ drawings. I want the garden to be a place they enjoy exploring. I don’t want to confine them to their room when they want to play.

Whilst we try not to have stuff we genuinely don’t need our house is a place to live life not a shrine to tidiness. Accidental minimalists may have something to teach us about unnecessary clutter but I would rather be surrounded by genuinely meaningful stuff any day.

I’m not talking literally of course. There are genuinely things we can’t live without. Food, water, air…you know, those kinds of essentials. I’m talking silly stuff, stuff we’ve come to rely on. A few I’ve read recently in magazines, or heard in person: I can’t live without my scented candles, I can’t live without bergamot tea (honestly!), I can’t live without Beauty Flash Balm, I can’t live without my monthly haircut. And the best? I can’t live without my Ralph Lauren cashmere throws.

I wrote a post about this a while ago but never published it. I just wasn’t happy with what it ultimately said. But I watched a documentary recently about Kibera, Africa’s largest slum, and it made me think about it again. Four celebrities went to live there for a week (http://www.rednoseday.com/whats-on/tv-listings/famous-rich-and-in-the-slums). I’ve seen programmes like it before, I’ve even been to a few places in the world not so very different. But for some reason this one really hit me. And I’m sorry but I have to share a few things about it, in case you missed it.

• Kibera is the biggest slum in Africa and one of the biggest in the world. It houses almost 1 Million people.
• The Government owns all the land.
• The average size of shack in this area is 12ft x 12ft built with mud walls. These shacks often house up to 8 or more, many sleeping on the floor.
• 1 in 5 children don’t survive beyond their 5^th birthday.
• Only about 20% of Kibera has electricity.
• Until recently Kibera had no water.
• In most of Kibera there are no toilet facilities. One latrine (hole in the ground) is shared by up to 50 shacks. Once full, young boys are employed to empty – they take the contents to the river.
• There are no government clinics or hospitals.

So, what were we talking about? Oh yes, cashmere throws. And scented candles. I honestly do my best not to be dramatic or emotional and we’ve written before on The Minimal List about the privilege of choosing to live simply (http://www.theminimallist.com/2009/09/fad/). But pose the “what can’t you live without” question to a resident of Kibera and the answers would be the literal ones.

So what can’t you live without?

It’s interesting what the Western world views as having nothing. Being a Westerner myself I’m all too aware of what the presenter meant. Part of me has an ingrained reflex that blindly accepts the concept. I almost can’t help thinking, ‘Hmm…you’re right. Those people have nothing.’ Except this time my knee-jerk reaction was followed by a bit more consideration.

What these people didn’t have, I suppose, was a television. Or a mobile phone. Or even electricity for that matter. They didn’t even have running water. Oh sure, they had close-knit families, they made their own alcohol and sat around in the evenings talking with friends. They ate fresh food, freshly prepared. They were healthy. Oh, and they were spiritually fulfilled. But not one of them had an iPhone.

It served as a reminder of how far away from minimalist nirvana we are. Yes, there’s an obvious response. Maybe those people would have liked a bit more than nothing. Their lifestyle wasn’t a choice – they were genuinely poor. These criticisms are not unfounded. It’s galling to hear a middle-class Westerner talking about how lucky people are that have nothing at all. But, there was something about their lifestyle that drew you in and made you long for something else.

I guess what most people struggle with when they try to live a minimalist lifestyle is the fact that it is about reduction. They need to get rid of things. This process brings its own rewards but it can never bring about the kind of appreciation for what we have that starting with nothing gives us. When we have nothing, everything we gain can be cherished.

So, when we really think about our possessions and what matters so much we just have to own it, it’s helpful to start from the point of view of nothing. Then, all we need to remember is that the nothing we’re referring to is life itself.

As people began to own more than one television and computers came on the scene, this focus was lost. Whatever your feelings on television, time spent in front of it used to be family time. Television ownership, video and on-demand services fragmented this shared culture in the same way that fast food, take-aways and longer working hours eroded the family mealtime.

We’ve been careful to ensure that our family mealtimes remain sacred. More specifically, our evening meal. For one reason or other we can’t always be together at lunchtime, or even breakfast. But we do try very hard to make sure that every evening, at roughly the same time, we sit down to enjoy a meal together. We always cook our own meals (an important part of the ritual for us) and sometimes we’ve even cooked them together (as much as cooking with a two- and four-year old can be considered “teamwork”). The time, attention and care all matters.

The pace of social fragmentation is gathering. The web, social networks, mobile devices and a general globalisation of relationships has made it as likely we’ll spend the day talking to someone on the other side of the planet as someone in our own city. And the positives of this are obvious. Sharing culture globally is a good thing for so many reasons. But what does it mean for our local relationships? And, more importantly, what does it mean for our families?

We can’t answer that question for everyone, but we’ve definitely found our hub. It’s not the television, or a piano (albeit through a lack of talent rather than interest). It’s not even something primeval like a fire. But eating is still a basic human need, and one that is better enjoyed together. What connects you?

Naomi may not have spent too much time deliberating over selling her guitar but I’ve got to the point now where I’m having to actually list my turntables on ebay. In more confident moments I’ve taken photos of them and thought about shipping options. In times of doubt I’ve gone back to my records and thought about throwing myself back into the world of shopping for vinyl and DJing at friends’ parties.

But here’s the thing: it really is a world. Almost every hobby or leisure pursuit is its own little ecosystem. It has magazines dedicated to it. You can meet other like-mined people on the internet. There’s the right way to do everything and the way that brings you scorn (woe-betide anyone who tries to open the plastic wrapper on a new record without having first frantically rubbed the edge on their jeans). And, of course, with that world comes even more stuff. It spreads from your single pursuit until every room has some element of it.

Maybe it only happens to a certain type of person but I’ve had my fair share of obsessions over the years. From playing music to making it. Mountain biking. Rock climbing. Watches. They all spread. So, much of what I’ve been selling these past few months is the fallout from these little obsessions (some not so little) and there’s been a natural order. We’re down to the brass tacks now. Will I do these things again or has the time past?

For me the time has past as far as superstar DJ status goes. That’s not to say that I feel to old to do it or that I don’t think I’m that good at it. What it does mean is that I don’t have the time or drive to obsess over it anymore and the stuff that goes with it is just going to waste. Someone else could fire their passion with it.

Having a family makes us really focused on time and my family is my biggest obsession. After that comes my work and then after that comes my interests. With so much demanding, and deserving attention, my interests need to be really important to me. I have to decide, where I have a choice, what I’m going to obsess over. Well, I’ve done that now. The decision is made. I can get rid of the reminders of previous flirtations with a clean conscience and get on with throwing myself into the things I really care about. It’s quite liberating. Although I have, recently, been thinking I might like to try my hand at surfing…

Historically there have been regimes that sought to purge the world of various forms of literature and for many cultures, the very idea of losing their books might seen unthinkable. Attachments to books can be hard to break, but, for the vast majority of the population isn’t it just sentimentality?

As parents we cling to the belief that a home filled with books is an important catalyst for bringing up educated and informed children. After all, most people seem to be aware of the statistical evidence that backs up this belief. I’m particularly wary of statistics, however, and I imagine that this particular evidence falls into the same category as that which is used in ads here – people who eat a healthy breakfast tend to be slimmer and healthier than people who eat no breakfast.

Contrary to what the makers of breakfast cereals want you to believe, it doesn’t mean that their product will make you slimmer and healthier. What it means is that people who live a healthy lifestyle (which is more likely to include a healthy breakfast) will be slimmer and healthier. That’s not exactly ground-breaking research.

I think it’s the same with the children and books idea. It’s not that having books in the house will make your children brainier, it’s just that having lots of books is a sign of well-read parents. And their children will probably share the same values. Book ownership is just an indicator, not the cause.

So, why else might we hang on to our books? They bring back memories. Couldn’t that be said about many possessions? We’ll read them again. Will you? With all the books being published every day, how many of the ones you’ve already read are you going to go back to? I might need to look something up. Please. Haven’t you heard of the internet?

Purging books is, of course, music to the ears of the e-reader sellers. They want you to give them up. They want the last bastion of an analogue lifestyle to be conquered. But are they right? Is it just pig-headedness to moan about the demise of the printed word? I had similarly conflicting emotions when I moved from film to digital photography. I came up with all sort of reasons why film was better, more “authentic”. Since getting a D-SLR, however, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. It will be the same with books. The possibilities that come from digitising literature are enormous and we’ve not even scratched the surface yet.

Does this mean I’m going to be ruthless? Well, don’t expect me to lead by example. There’s a deep attachment to books that’s hard to break. Bookshops are still like candy-stores to me. But I can’t help thinking that books are just another possession, the only difference being that it’s a cinch to find excuses for buying unlimited quantities of them. So, let’s have an amnesty. You go first.

We’ve been running our own business for a decade now and when our children came along we were determined to make sure that they were a part of our whole lives. It’s all too easy to see work as a way to pay for life, rather than a major part of your way of life. It’s a familiar pattern: work pays for leisure time, objects become the things you live for, your holiday becomes a way of escaping from your work life and you try and fit time with your children around the huge immovable entity known as your job.

But it doesn’t have to be like that. Getting the equilibrium of your life right, making everything work together and getting more out of every moment comes down to minimalism. Minimalism isn’t about just getting rid of things, minimalism is about the whole. Our story is one of a long journey to achieving the perfect balance. No more work/life balance, no more us/kids balance. Just balance.

You achieve the perfect whole by making sure that every part of it is essential. So the first stop for us is to get rid of everything we don’t need, to look at the stuff we bought when we lived without really thinking. But once we’re left with a few essentials we need to understand them. Does everything in our lives have a purpose? Does it make our lives better? How does it contribute to better life experiences rather than being an end in itself? In short, what is our minimal list?

This brings us back to the beginning. The minimal list isn’t just about stuff. It’s about experiences, work, children, play, learning, creativity, business, technology, health, food and travel. In short, life.