I was recently interviewed on the EverydayFI podcast where I shared my FI story, how I fully embraced minimalism, became a full-time nomad, and some philosophy on the FI movement and choosing contentment over happiness. Cheers!
Link to episode: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/everydayfi/id1747124575
To learn more about my story check out my About page and my Taking the Leap post about my decision to retire early.
“I want to be happy” was how I replied when asked as a youth what I wanted to be in life. Likely inspired by our country’s Declaration of Independence, I bought into the enticing desire of achieving full happiness. It doesn’t work that way.
In the pursuit of a life of bliss, I read several books and listened to numerous podcasts on happiness. I was struck by the happiness science finding that 50% of a person’s happiness is based on genes, 10% individual circumstance (environment mostly out of your control), which leaves just 40% under your control. More than half of a person’s happiness (or lack thereof) is out of one’s control.
This finding is eye-opening on why happiness is so elusive for so many people. If I was born with a 5% genetic predilection to happiness, and I somehow maxed out my environmental circumstances AND all happiness related measures under my personal control, I could achieve a maximum of a 55% state of happiness.
That is a failing grade, and I doubt I could consistently maintain a 100% achievement of the areas in my personal control, especially when my genetic disposition was fighting against me.
I’m More of a Piglet Than a Pooh Bear.
I have found that my normal state is not one of default happiness. Do I think I am an Eeyore with a 5% genetic happiness disposition? No. But I also don’t think I’m a Pooh Bear with a 45%+ genetic good humor and gentle kindness.
Unlike Pooh, happiness doesn’t come naturally to me. I am more like a Piglet. I naturally worry. I look for security and close friendships. Sure, I’ll be brave at times with my friends, but my default is not the blissful happiness of Pooh.
Happiness carries too much weight.
I have learned that I don’t need to achieve the joy of happiness in all the day-to-day things I do or own. My wardrobe, meal, or wherever I’m staying the night isn’t responsible for my happiness, it just needs to fulfill its job. A car doesn’t need to spark joy, just get me where I need to go safely.
Happiness has a short lifespan and it is fundamentally based on comparison (with others and with personal expectations).
I think about the sheer joy my 14 year-old daughter expressed on her first business class flight experience. Through a series of crazy events, she unexpectedly was upgraded to business class flying home from Barcelona. She didn’t know until she was on the plane. She reveled over each item in the bag of sundries provided and in her ability to order all the pineapple juice she wanted. She was so grateful for the experience.
But conversely, I have seen people who travel business class frequently who complain about some aspect of the service and take the experience for granted. They have lost that first-time joy because business class has become routine.
The latter is an example of hedonic adaptation where humans will reset expectations as new experiences become expected. As we quickly adapt to life’s changes (e.g., new exciting car quickly becomes our regular car), we are continually chasing the next level item (oooh, look at that better and more expensive car!!!).
As a corollary, getting rid of unhappiness does not necessarily bring happiness. Happiness researchers share that negative emotions such as sadness and fear are necessary for survival, and that suffering is part of the human condition. Achieving 100% happiness would require humans to ignore these other important emotions and states of being. It is just not humanly possible to be fully happy all of the time, and yet we humans continue our endless pursuit of this holy grail.
The more I pursued happiness, the more elusive it became — always just around the corner, but never with me for long.
Instead, I pursue contentment.
Pursuing contentment addresses the hedonic adaptation treadmill problem that the pursuit of happiness tends to create. I have determined what is enough in my life–enough money, enough stuff, enough commitments.
Minimalism was a big help in this. In embracing minimalism, I lessened the emotions and value I placed on items I owned. The things I own, such as a car, watch, clothes, boat, home, etc., are no longer symbols of myself, any of my achievements, or my love of other people. I don’t need to dress nice for other people. I don’t need new things to impress others.
I also fluctuate my life’s experiences to help me maintain an appreciation for the lucky life that I live. In the past year, I have slept on an inflatable camping mattress, two bunk beds, a rock-hard bed that made my hips ache, and several gigantic and comfortable king beds, and many beds in between (62 in all).
The variation keeps my perspective in check. If the bed does its job, then I am content with that. I don’t need an incredible bed every night to appreciate my daily life. The same applies to my food, clothes, transportation, and excursions.
Instead of asking myself “Am I happy?” I ask myself “Do I have what I need?” The bar for responses to the latter question is much lower, and I achieve contentment at a far higher rate than happiness. Attaining 100% contentment feels achievable in a way attaining 100% happiness never has.
Of course, I still feel many moments of happiness as I sit on a dune in the Sahara desert in Morocco or hike along a Roman road to the Bachkovo Monastery in Bulgaria, but these highs are no longer my measure for daily success. I instead measure my daily success by my level of contentment – having enough to meet my needs and pausing to notice that.
Yesterday, I had a nice take-out meal from Seven Eleven in Japan and I enjoyed it in a park with my wife. Nothing fancy. We had lots of ants join us. There were lots of weeds around. My seat on the concrete step was hard. The sky was beautiful. The mountains in the distance were nice. The buildings around us were interesting.
Was I happy? Maybe. Was I content? Fully.
And as a corollary, frugality does not mean deprivation, suffering, or unhappiness.
Spending more does not equal more happiness just as spending less does not equal less happiness. While frugality is core to how we achieve FIRE, it does not have to mean a life of deprivation. The FIRE community is too creative for that.
Setting the Stage
Recently many FIRE content creators have espoused the view that the FIRE movement has recently “evolved” from deprivation, driven by extreme frugality to, now, increased spending on stuff we “value” somehow causing increased happiness along the way. (“I like expensive cars, so I should buy a new expensive car since I VALUE expensive cars and now I am happier” — at least until the shiny newness wears off.)
Definition of Deprivation: “the fact of not having something that you need, like enough food, money, or a home; the process that causes this
That deprivation-to-value narrative should not be conflated with an unhappiness to happiness narrative.
As Mr. Money Mustache’s (aka Pete Adeney), Vicki Robin (author of Your Money or Your Life), and many others have long demonstrated that frugality while pursuing FIRE does not have to mean either deprivation or unhappiness.
Pete and Vicki advocated for finding contentment in “enough.” Pete did this while living on less (~$25K a year with a paid-off house). He didn’t (and doesn’t today) live a deprived or unhappy life. Pete and many other FIRE content creators since 2013 have demonstrated replicable, creative ways to spend time with family, stay healthy, commute, eat well, etc. without spending a lot of money.
Frugality Increases Happiness
I realize this may sound counterintuitive (especially with the marketing world trying to convince us otherwise), but I have found that spending more does not lead to increased sustained happiness, while spending less frequently does lead to increased sustained happiness. How could that be?
There are three main reasons for this surprising truth:
Main Thing #1: I can usually get or do essentially the same things for much less
Frugality is the superpower of FI. It is the core that enables us to create margin that we can use to pay off debt, save, and invest. Even a high-earner making $400K+ has to reign in spending or risk having a low net worth, as well illustrated in Thomas J Stanley’s book The Millionaire Next Door.
Cutting back on spending does not mean that we have to live a life of deprivation. My favorite cutbacks enable me to save money while still enjoying the same or close to the same goods or services. These are the “invisible” cutbacks–those that are not noticeable or barely noticeable with a little research and planning.
Some examples:
But wait! Many of these suggestions require (1) more of my time or (2) adjusting what I get or do, or (3) both, to save some money. How could I be happier by doing that?
As Dan Ariely and Jeff Kreisler illustrate in their book Dollars and Sense, we humans love getting a bargain (perceived or real). However, instead of being duped into buying over-priced merchandise that is “marked down” (dang marketers using this truism against us) we in the FIRE community find ways to buy the things we need for less and reap the enjoyment of a true bargain.
I have found that spending more either (1) leads to a feeling of disappointment if I feel like I spent to much for something OR (2) has provided only a fleeting amount of enjoyment. (See one of the many good articles on hedonic adaptation.)
It makes me happy to get good value for a lot less money. I can live the same typical middle-class life, but spend way less than most middle-class Americans by making some simple adjustments of what I buy or do.
It makes me happy to repair my refrigerator, microwave, dryer, vacuum cleaner, car side mirror, and lots of other things, saving thousands in repair costs–AND I have increased my skills and confidence along the way.
It makes me happy to save time. If I didn’t repair something myself, I would have to spend time researching a repair company, calling to make an appointment, taking time off to be at home during the appointment, keeping an eye on the repairperson, and paying them a lot for their service (which took me time to earn). I actually save time doing it myself, and I get to do it when I want to, not when the repairperson is available.
KEY POINT: We can do essentially the same stuff AND reap the enjoyment of saving money for our future to buy more time to do what we want!
Main Thing #2: Happiness is primarily derived from family, friends, nature, health, learning, and helping others–not from spending more money.*
*This isn’t just my opinion, check out the extensive research by Dr. Arthur Brooks, Wes Moss, et al. While visiting family and some hobbies may cost some money they can often be done for a lot less (see Main Thing #1)
I have increased my long-term happiness without spending a lot of money.
My best memories with my family involve family game nights (homemade pizzas and hours of playing games), camping and hiking together in the woods, home exchanges to great destinations with travel rewards points paying for most of the airfare, and reading great books from the library out loud together.
My best memories with my friends are from pot-luck parties and hanging out in our backyards around a fire pit enjoying a high quality beverage, or going camping and hiking together. I don’t watch a lot of movies, but when I do, I have a lot more fun watching a video at home free through Kanopy at my public library or renting it online where we can pause and chat about the movie. In contrast I find spending $16 each to go to a movie theater that is so loud I need to wear ear plugs and I can’t chat or take any breaks a lot less fun or interactive.
My wife and I love taking free extended fitness walks along the trails around our quasi-urban house on the edge of DC. We walk along the creek and see deer and birds and lots of other people walking, jogging, and biking. We enjoy the benefits of nature and increase our happiness without spending a penny. As we travel the world, it is a rare location where we can’t find some close-by place for spending time in nature.
Happiness is rarely about the stuff we buy or the amount we spend, but about the time we spend with family, friends, learning, and helping others.
I didn’t need to spend a ton of money going to a restaurant, hotel, or buying books to increase my happiness. I have found that when I spend a lot of money on a meal out or other expensive endeavor, I am often less happy because my expectations were higher and I was underwhelmed.
While we all have felt a jolt of pleasure from buying something new, we need to recognize and separate happiness from these fleeting moments of enjoyment.
Main Thing #3: I am happier when I have less – both stuff and commitments
Separating our identity from our stuff enables us to pursue happiness in less-expensive ways.
As my wife and I sold, gave away, or otherwise disposed of 98% of our personal belongings, I became a different person. Minimalism changed who I am for the better!
By getting rid of my musical instruments, canning equipment, lawn care equipment, cars, house, tools, old files and collections, I released myself from numerous commitments and freed up enormous time and resources.
I jettisoned my lower-priority personas of musician, canner, home owner, etc. to focus on what I truly valued and made me happier and content. Now I’m more aware of the alluring promises of new personas through purchases, and I don’t buy that stuff anymore. I travel, spend more time with family and friends, read, exercise, and learn. I am a different, more content person.
My happiness increased when I bought less.
Conclusion
The FIRE community should not conflate frugality with deprivation or unhappiness. FIRE adherents can live happy and fulfilling lives while also saving a much larger percentage of their income than mainstream Americans.
As modern-day philosopher Naval Ravikant explains, “Money doesn’t buy happiness – it buys freedom.”
The FIRE community needs to proudly claim the key tenets of what makes this movement different from other personal finance philosophies: we are frugal, and we determine and then stick to how much spending is enough. These are the FIRE tenets that Pete and Vicki have long advocated for and they are as applicable today as they were back then.
Spending less does not mean less happiness–done the right way, it can mean more.
IMAGE Credit: “frugality” on keyboard obtained from CreditDebitPro.com
I used to be a (aspiring) musician, cyclist, gardener, canner, soccer coach, coin collector, stamp collector, home owner, and DIY handyman.
I am no longer those things. I found that by selling, giving away, or otherwise disposing of my guitars, soccer gear, biking gear, coin and stamp collections, work files, house, and many, many, other possessions related to these pursuits, I was freed from the personas that took away my time and focus from the things that I wanted to be and do the most.
In his time management book Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, Oliver Burkman challenges us to focus on the top items that we want to accomplish. He shares a story attributed to Warren Buffet, where the Billionaire allegedly advises to prioritize your top 25 things, focus on the top 5, and then actively avoid the remaining 20 items. Those items prevent us from spending the time needed to do our highest priorities very well.
Burkman is not this prescriptive and shares that “you needn’t embrace the specific practice of listing out your goals (I don’t, personally) to appreciate the underlying point, which is that in a world of too many big rocks, it’s the moderately appealing ones—the fairly interesting job opportunity, the semi-enjoyable friendship—on which a finite life can come to grief.”
This was an eye-opening revelation for me. In order to focus on what I wanted to be and do the most—husband, father, friend, and student as well as a nomadic traveler, camper, hiker, reader, personal finance coach, and historian—I needed to eliminate my many other personas and lower priorities.
One of my top priorities was to travel the world nomadically with a carry-on and a backpack. This goal required some major downsizing–I fully embraced minimalism with some surprising results.
When I sold my (barely used) electric guitar, amp, and case back to the music store I bought it from (at a fraction of the price), I felt free! I was giving myself permission to no longer be a musician. I no longer had this physical reminder telling me “You should practice music. Remember, it is the 9th thing you want to accomplish?” It was a conversation I didn’t want to have.
The time and money I spent trying to learn to play the guitar took time away from what I really wanted to do – read, travel, learn a language, and take better care of myself.
Likewise, by getting rid of my canning equipment, lawn care equipment, cars, house, tools, old files and collections, I released myself from numerous commitments and freed up enormous time and resources.
Having newfound time and resources to focus on world traveling, my relationships, reading, sleeping, stretching, and hiking has been amazing. I have traveled more this year (2023) than any other year. I have read more books this year than any other (including college). I have spent more hours with my close family and friends than I had been. I walk and hike more than ever. I am constantly learning new things and tackling my foreign language proficiency goal.
Doing fewer things better is…better! Removing the physical possessions around these lower-priority identities made it happen. By getting rid of these possessions, I gave myself permission to be who I really wanted to be. Minimalism changed who I was.
If you want to learn more about minimalism and techniques to downsize, I highly recommend Fumio Sasaki’s book Goodbye Everything. While I did not minimize to the extent that he did, I found his minimalism philosophy and techniques to be invaluable.
