By Joshua Fields Millburn

A few months ago, I turned down a lucrative publishing deal from a giant audiobook publisher. Not because I didn’t believe in the project—but because I did.

I wanted Very, Very Simple: 12 Tools for a Simpler Life to be immediately useful, frictionless, and free for the people who already support my work.

That audiobook is out now—and I’m making it free for a limited time on Patreon (you just need a free account). You can also download the free ebook if you prefer to read.

Very, Very Simple is a clear, compassionate guide to living with less—and finally feeling better about what you own. (T.K. Coleman recorded the audiobook with me; his wisdom may be the best part.)

When I wrote the book for the publisher, I included 12 practical tools—flexible rules, not rigid dogma—designed to help you decide what’s no longer acceptable in your life and let it go.

After I declined the publisher’s offer—because I believed their terms would limit the reach of this project—I decided to release the audiobook myself. And I added one more tool.

I call it the Wednesday Rule.

It’s the rule I’ve been using more than any other lately—because it helps me make better decisions now.

I apply it to purchases, health, relationships, finances, commitments, and material clutter. And fittingly, it’s very, very simple.

Here’s how it works…

Before you make a decision, simply ask yourself one question:

Will I be delighted with this decision next Wednesday?

It’s that simple.

Next Wednesday, when I’m looking back on my decision:

• Will my future self be happy that I bought those pants?
• Will my future self be satisfied that I ate those potato chips?
• Will my future self be glad I got frustrated with my daughter?
• Will my future self be excited by that meeting I scheduled?
• Will my future self be thrilled that he didn’t clean out the junk drawer?
• Will my future self be grateful he wasted that money on a lottery ticket?

If the answer is yes, then it’s probably a good decision:

• Yes, I’m relieved I purchased this new dress shirt for my job interview.
• Yes, I’m thankful I ordered the smoothie instead of the milkshake.
• Yes, I’m pleased I acknowledged my coworker’s achievement.
• Yes, I’m overjoyed I scheduled a coffee date with my best friend.
• Yes, I’m pleased as punch that I cleared out that storage locker.
• Yes, I’m grateful I invested my extra $100 in index funds.

However, if the answer is No, I will not be delighted by this decision, then the decision is already made for you:

When in doubt, opt out.

I like to think of it as “letting go in advance.”

Very, Very Simple isn’t about owning fewer things for the sake of minimalism. It’s about removing the excess that’s keeping you overwhelmed. Download it for free as an ebook or audiobook.

The post The Wednesday Rule appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

During a recent trip to the grocery,
I ran into a woman who had
lost
everything
in the LA fires last January.

As soon as she recognized “the minimalist guy,”
she approached me in the parking lot:
“I need to tell you everything…
about losing everything.”

“I spent years acquiring everything I wanted—
the perfect house, the perfect furniture,
the perfect things…
and yet I was perfectly unhappy.”

Then: the flames imperfected her life.
Every thing was rubble in just a few hours.

She confessed there were indeed a few things she missed,
mostly practical items of convenience and comfort—
those broken-in boots, that high-performance blender.

However, she was shocked to admit—
almost ashamed to acknowledge—
that she didn’t miss most of her
so-called sentimental items.

“Not really.”

If anything, the conflagration had
unburdened her from her attachments:
“I’d meant to sort through all that stuff for years,
but I’d always put it off.”

Certainly we’ve all uttered the same ol’
Procrastinator’s Motto:
“I’ll get to that someday.”

Of course someday never arrives.
And the clutter mounts.

But someday did actually arrive for this woman.

According to her, the firestorm
forced her to confront her misguided accumulation—
everything
all at once.

The initial shock and pain and fear
was soon replaced
by newfound freedom.

Turns out…
She was relieved, not bereaved.

In time, she would replace the useful things—
cookware, utensils, electronics, bedding.

But she also replaced the chaos of the clutter
with spaciousness and peace and self-respect.

Sure, her favorite shirt was now a pile of ash.
“But this is my new favorite shirt,” she said,
joyfully gripping the gray sweater on her torso.

Sure, the jewelry she had inherited was now scrap metal.
“But I never wore that gaudy stuff anyway!” she said,
smiling and tapping on her freckled empty wrist.

Sure, the dusty photos in the attic were now just a memory.
“But when was the last time I even looked at those pictures?”

You see, her false attachment to clothes and jewelry and photos was exposed as a mere story—a story she had wrapped around her things.

Then, when everything spontaneously combusted, she quickly developed a visceral understanding of a profound truth:

There are no sentimental items—
only sentimental people.

By letting go of the stories,
she was finally able to let go
of the things.

For more on this topic, Ryan Nicodemus and I recorded a conversation about our favorite minimalist tool: the Spontaneous Combustion Rule.

The post The Loss of Sentimental Things appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

Every modern parent I talk to feels the quiet pressure to pacify their kids with glowing screens—smartphones, tablets, televisions.

Myself included.

As a parent of a 12-year-old, I’m been thinking a lot about one question lately: Is early access to screens actually helping our children—or harming them?

More often than not, it’s the latter.

Why?

Well, as The Minimalists, we often talk about physical clutter, but digital clutter can be even more pernicious.

Smartphones don’t merely occupy space—they compete for our attention, shape our habits, and rewire how we relate to tedium, creativity, and connection.

When a child has constant access to a powerful, dopamine-driven device, the cost isn’t always obvious at first—but it accumulates over time. In this way, scrolling has become the new smoking.

To be clear, mine is not an anti-technology argument; it’s a pro-intentionality one—the heart of which is simple:

What are we giving our kids less of when we give them unlimited access to more?

Less boredom.
Less presence.
Less patience.
Less spaciousness.
Less face-to-face connection.

These are the very conditions where resilience, imagination, and emotional regulation are formed.

That’s why I haven’t given my daughter a smartphone—not because “I’m a good parent” or “screens are bad,” but because I don’t want to stunt her childhood awe with synthetic wonderment.

Rather than framing this issue as “good parents vs. bad parents” or “tech vs. no tech,” I invite you to something more useful: A pause. A moment to question defaults. A reminder that just because something is normal doesn’t mean it’s necessary—or beneficial.

Minimalism isn’t about deprivation; it’s about alignment. When it comes to our kids’ technology, that means choosing tools that support development instead of replacing it.

Whether a parent ultimately decides to delay smartphones, restrict them, or introduce them gradually, the most important step is making the decision consciously, not reactively.

Remember: The goal isn’t perfection. It’s presence.

Of course, this doesn’t apply only to kids. You and I would also benefit from upping our dosage of digital deliberateness.

To dive deeper, watch The Minimalists’ new video about the horror of iPad Kids. If you have a question about this topic, email a voice memo to podcast@themins.com so I can answer it on the show.

The post Rethink Giving Your Kids an iPhone appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

Other people’s clutter can be triggering. A messy kitchen, an overstuffed living room, or a chaotic basement often stirs up anxiety, judgment, and a strong desire to fix what’s “wrong.”

It’s that time of year again. If you’re anything like me, you’ve been spending a lot more time in other people’s spaces (ahem, other people’s cluttered spaces).

While minimalism is the art of addition through subtraction, minimizing other people’s things is not the answer (that’s called theft).

Instead, I’ve found it’s important to shift the focus away from controlling environments we don’t own and toward understanding our relationship with discomfort, expectations, and boundaries.

Here’s how…

When I’m steeped in someone else’s cluttered home, I remind myself:

I cannot control other people’s spaces, but I am responsible for how I respond to them.

Clutter itself isn’t inherently a problem; it becomes one when it conflicts with our expectations or affects our well-being. That tension is often internal, not external. Recognizing this helps us move from blame to respect.

There is also a role for empathy and restraint here. Attempting to fix or critique someone else’s clutter—especially without invitation—can feel invasive and often damages the relationship.

As an alternative, get curious. Ask yourself three questions:

The answers to these questions can help you understand that people have different thresholds, emotional attachments, and coping mechanisms. This level of awareness allows for compassion rather than criticism.

However…

That doesn’t mean you have to be silent if a space is traumatizing or unsafe. You can express your needs without judgment. Here are five examples:

(That last one is particularly useful if you live with the person.)

When handled delicately, these conversations can create space for collaboration instead of defensiveness. Equally important is modeling intentional behavior—living the values you care about without trying to impose them on others.

Of course, most of the time, you don’t have to say anything at all. Most cluttered spaces aren’t really a problem—they simply clash with our own sensibilities. In those cases, it’s best to let to go (without out letting go of their stuff).

Ultimately, dealing with other people’s cluttered spaces is less about organizing rooms and more about practicing patience, love, and respect—for others and for ourselves.

To dive deeper into this topic, The Minimalists just published a video, How to Deal with Other People’s Cluttered Spaces, where we discuss strategies for navigating cluttered spaces you don’t control.

The post Other People’s Cluttered Spaces appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

Ever since we started The Minimalists, I’ve catalogued my favorite albums at the end of each calendar year. For me, 2025 was the best time for new music in a while, so much so that my Top 10 List includes 14 albums. I know … that’s not very minimalist! Or is it?

1. Justin Bieber, Swag II. I never imagined The Biebs would top one of my year-end lists, but then he poured his heart into this luscious masterpiece—a double album that harkens back to the R&B of the late 80s and early 90s. Certainly my most played album of 2025, because I can’t help but smile (and dance) every time I press play.

2. Rustin Kelly, Pale, Through the Window. Rustin returns with a scathing indictment of contemporary life—critiquing everything from pickleball and modern love to aging parents and glowing screens. In any other year, this would easily be the #1 album on this list.

3. Lithe, Lost in Euphoria. With its sparse, minimalist percussion, this project is an extravagant display of musical restraint—only seven songs and 16 minutes of runtime, but every note is agonizing with aura. Lithe’s music gives me a singular feeling—like I’ve stumbled across something very special, right before the entire world finds it. Stated plainly: it’s a vibe.

4. Matt Nathanson, The King of (Un)Simple. With this overdose on magical thinking, Nathanson solidifies his position as my favorite living songwriter, especially with devastating lyrics like, “When they said you were bad for me / All I could see / Were jealous fools / But every time we fall asleep / I wake up weak / With puncture wounds.”

5. The Terrys, The Terrys. Frisky surfer-punk songs that sound like a pleasant surprise every time this album waterlogs my speakers.

6. Ken Yates, Total Cinema. Calculated chords and dignified lyrics about the pain and beauty of being alive—a precise, measured album about an imprecise life that, ironically, can’t be measured.

7. Matt Berninger, Get Sunk. I rarely know what The National’s lead singer is talking about, but it always feels like capital-T truth when he says it. To wit: “She says she takes photos of tractor bones / And sells ’em to model luxury homes / The closest thing she’s ever found to love / Is the kind you can’t get rid of fast enough.”

8. SAINt JHN, Festival Season. From power ballads to gritty hip-hop, the genre lines aren’t merely blurred on this album, they have dissolved completely.

9. William Fitzsimmons, Incidental Contact. An intimate, honest exploration of grief, love, loss, and resilience. Fitzsimmons’ heartfelt lyricism and emotional sincerity make this project particularly moving.

10. La Reezy, Welcome to La Reezyana Vol 1. This album is a melodic passport into La Reezy’s worldview, chalk full of local pride, quick wit, innate charisma, and a dash of nostalgia that refuses to chase mainstream trends.

11. Two Lanes, No Feeling Is Final. The vibrant Berlin-based electronic duo returns to the spotlight by blending magnetic piano, analog synths, and minimal electronic elements in ways that feel organic and newly harvested.

12. Joshua Radin, One Day Home. Quiet, perfect songs about a loud, imperfect heart.

13. Spacey Jane, If That Makes Sense. This expressive indie rock album is dripping with emotional honesty, introspection, and lush songwriting that mines universal themes like self-reflection, growing up, and identity.

14. Clipse, Let God Sort Em Out. An elevated return to form for these two Virginia brothers and their coconspirator, the musical savant Pharrell Williams. The trio’s chemistry is the main character on this record—as cutting and as gripping as ever.

Honorable Mentions: Brandi Carlile, Hammock, Medium Build, The Game, Wale, Summer Walker, Tory Lanez, Andrew Belle, Yung Lean, Dominic Fike, Gunna, The Lumineers, MGK, knw, Kevin Abstract, Yungblood, Whatever the Weather, Fridayy, EST Gee, Bon Iver, Ben Rector, Chance the Rapper, The Midnight, De La Soul, Penny and Sparrow, Matthew Mayfield, The Weeknd, PND & Drake, David Gray, Central Cee, Brian Eno, Lil Baby.

What was your favorite album this year?
Let me know via DM on Instagram.

—JFM

P.S. You can find previous years here.

The post JFM’s Favorite Albums of 2025 appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

Each year since we started The Minimalists, I’ve catalogued my favorite albums at the end of the calendar year. This one is a few months late, but better late than never. Here are my favorites from 2024. (You can find previous years here.)

1. Donovan Woods, Things Were Never Good If They’re Not Good Now

2. Joshua Hyslop, Evergold

3. Soccer Mommy, Evergreen

4. Mat Kearney, Mat Kearney

5. Slow Runner, Yesterday Don’t Fail Me Now

6. Kendrick Lamar, GNX

7. Aquilo, You Should Get Some Sleep

8. PARTYNEXTDOOR, P4

9. Jeffrey Focault, The Universal Fire

10. Maggie Rogers, Don’t Forget Me

11. Childish Gambino, Atavista

12. Future & Metro Boomin, We Still Don’t Trust You

Honorable Mentions: Vory, Roy Woods, Khalid, Lee DeWyze, Mustafa, tendai, Snow Patrol, Michael Flynn, mike., Peter Bradley Adams, Novo Amor, Local Natives, Dua Lipa, ScHoolboy Q, mgk & Trippie Redd, Andrew Belle, Two Lanes, Kevin Gates, ¥$.

What was your favorite album this year?
Let me know via DM on Instagram.

The post JFM’s Favorite Albums of 2024 appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

The perfect closet exists, but it is not located on the other side of your next purchase.

According to the Public Interest Research Group, the average American buys 53 new articles of clothing each year. That’s more than one new thing per week and four times as much as in the year 2000. Accordingly, garment manufacturers are now producing more than 100 billion pieces every year.

It’s easy to blame fast fashion for our overconsumption. Indeed, rapacious corporate greed is a part of the problem. But companies are ceaselessly churning out new attire only because we shoppers keep demanding more.

Just like everyone else, you and I yearn to be trendy. When you think about it, though, trendy is just marketing jargon that really means “soon to go out of style.”

Next time you look in the mirror, consider doing more than a ‘fit check. Consider being honest with yourself about those misplaced desires and insecurities that lead to discontent and debt and piles of cheap clothes, not a perfect closet.

As a recovering perfectionist, I know it feels like that new belt, those new shoes, that new dress will scratch your consumer itch. After all, you’re just a few outfits away from a flawless closet, right?

No.

You see, the word perfect comes from the Latin word perficere, which breaks down into per- (“completely”) and facere (“do”). In other words, perfect does not mean flawless; it means completely done.

Thus, the key to a perfect closet is not addition—it is subtraction.

The wardrobe you want won’t be crafted by acquiring more costumes. (How many years have you been sold that lie?) No, perfect is uncovered when you jettison the clutter that incompleted your closet in the first place.

So, instead of buying a new item every week, just like your fellow trendsetters, what would happen if you let go of ten old items this week?

You can start with anything you haven’t worn in the last year. Soon, you will find yourself donating everything you haven’t worn in the last 90 days.

In the end, with all the excess out of the way, all that remains are your favorite clothes. Perfect was hiding in your closet this whole time. No purchase necessary.

The post The Perfect Closet appeared first on The Minimalists.

By Joshua Fields Millburn

Clothing clutter accumulates at the checkout line, well before it overflows your closets, hampers, and dresser drawers.

According to the EPA, the average American throws out more than 81 pounds of clothing each year, even though 95% of it could be reused or recycled.

Sounds like we are burdened by the residue of regret.
Sounds like we own more than enough.
Sounds like we don’t need more.

Yet we keep buying more: more shirts and pants and belts and shoes and dresses and shorts and jackets and wallets and purses and accessories, 85% of which will soon occupy space in a landfill.

Why are we so addicted to purchasing new clothes that will shortly become trash?

The answer involves many factors—false promises from marketers, slights of hand from advertisers, unconscious peer pressure from friends and coworkers—but the core characteristic of our overconsumption is consumerism.

Consumerism is the ideology that externalities will complete you—that buying more will somehow make your life more complete.

We believe this nonsense only because we don’t understand what enough is. So we accumulate more than enough, hoping that eventually we’ll get to the point at which our wardrobes, and thus our lives, are perfect.

And yet it doesn’t work.
Consumerism can’t complete you.
Because you are already complete.

Even when you’re standing alone in an empty closet,
dressed in the simplest attire,
you are complete.

Think about it.

Have you ever looked at a newborn and said,
This baby is incomplete
so I better buy her a bunch of new things
to perfect that imperfect little child?

Of course not.

So…

If you were complete when you were born—
when you owned zero possessions—
then at what point did you become incomplete?

You became incomplete
the moment your consumer culture
convinced you to burn yourself
with the flame of consumerism.

Thankfully, that fire
can be extinguished by
the gentle waters of simplicity.

Be it clothes, cars, or commodities, no material possession will complete you or make you happy, even though it feels like they can when you’re steeped in a retail frenzy. If anything, excess possessions cover up your happiness, which means, in a real way, new purchases don’t complete you—they incomplete you!

However, a complete life does exist—it exists on the other side of letting go, letting go of the past by donating and recycling the waste, and then letting go of the future by letting go of the stuff in advance.

You see, the simplest way to get rid of an item is to avoid bringing it home in the first place.

The post Letting Go in Advance appeared first on The Minimalists.