“Wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now.” —Maya Angelou

Fifteen years ago, my life changed forever. The Saturday started out typically: I woke up, drank some coffee, ate some breakfast, and started in on the day’s project.

It was the first morning of a beautiful three-day weekend in Vermont and my wife and I had decided to spend the Saturday spring cleaning.

My project was to clean out the garage. After the cleaning was finished, we’d begin relaxing and enjoying the holiday weekend. But my life was turned upside-down before we’d ever get there.

“Maybe you don’t need to own all this stuff,” was the last statement my old-self remembers hearing.

It was said by my neighbor right after I began complaining to her about how much work it had become caring for our house—everything from my garage was piled in the driveway at the time. She had used the word “minimalist” earlier in the conversation. And at that very moment, I found minimalism, or it found me.

As a result, my life has been refreshed, rejuvenated, improved. It’s been an amazing journey. And over the last several years, because of minimalism, my life has changed in ways I never dreamt possible.

Consider these four statements minimalism has made possible in my life and the joy found in each of them:

1. I wish I owned less stuff. 

Since that weekend, we have been on a journey of minimizing possessions from our home and life.

We immediately went to work removing everything we no longer used or loved. At the end of the process, we took a breath. But soon, we began noticing more things around the house we could live without and began removing them as well. Even after another clean-sweep through the entire house, we still owned more than we needed. We removed some more, bought a smaller house a few years later, and continued the cycle.

Of course, none of this happens in a vacuum: holidays and birthdays come and go, moments of consumer-relapse occur, new hobbies emerge, kids get older, tastes change.

Even as someone trying to live a minimalist life, things still begin to collect around me. As a result, when I look around my house today, I still wish I owned less stuff. And that’s something I never would have said years ago!

2. I don’t mind earning less money than I could. 

Somewhere along this journey of intentionally living with fewer possessions, an important realization occurred in my mind: Living with less means I can joyfully earn less if the right opportunity presents itself.

The measure of success in my life is no longer tied to my house, my car, or my paycheck. I now measure success in other ways: integrity, character, family, friendship, joy, love, peace (just to name a few).

Because of that change in perspective, when a new career opportunity presented itself years later that offered so many of the things I most value in life, I accepted—despite less pay. Even today, there are lots of things I could be doing to make more money, but I don’t mind earning less. We own enough and there are more fulfilling pursuits than trying to get more money.

3. I’d love to tell you my story. 

I love my newfound life. I have more time, more energy, more mental-capacity, and more money to pursue what is most important to me. Owning less means less burden, less anxiety, and less stress each and every day.

Because of the numerous benefits, I love sharing my story with others. I love seeing the realization in someone else’s eyes that possessions are not the answer to our heart’s greatest pursuits. And I love inspiring others to come join a movement of men and women all over the world who have decided to intentionally live with fewer possessions.

I enjoy sharing my story because it stands as a clear invitation to find something better and view the potential for our lives greater than physical possessions.

4. I know, deep down, you want to own fewer possessions too. 

None of us really believe it. No one really believes that possessions equal joy. It’s just that we’ve been told so many times and from so many angles that we would be happier accumulating more, we have started to believe the lie more than we realize. Our lives begin to align with that pursuit.

We start to buy bigger houses, nicer cars, newer technology, trendier clothing, and more toys for ourselves and our family. As a result, our possessions begin to burden us more than we recognize. They no longer serve us—instead, we serve them.

But in our deepest heart, we know our possessions are not adding value to our lives. Even worse, we can probably recognize how they are subtracting from it. I know, deep-down, you want to own fewer possessions. I know because I’ve been there. And why else would the message of this article resonate so deeply inside you?