Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday

Which is why philosophers have always advocated reducing our
needs and limiting our possessions. Monks and priests take vows of
poverty because it will mean fewer distractions, and more room
(literally) for the spiritual pursuit to which they have committed. No
one is saying we have to go that far, but the more we own, the more
we oversee, the less room we have to move and, ironically, the less
still we become.
Start by walking around your house and filling up trash bags and
boxes with everything you don’t use. Think of it as clearing more
room for your mind and your body. Give yourself space. Give your
mind a rest. Want to have less to be mad about? Less to covet or be
triggered by? Give more away.
The best car is not the one that turns the most heads, but the one
you have to worry about the least. The best clothes are the ones that
are the most comfortable, that require you to spend the least amount
of time shopping—regardless of what the magazines say. The best
house for you is the one that feels the most like home. Don’t use your
money to purchase loneliness, or headaches, or status anxiety.
Your grandmother did not give you that brooch so that you would
constantly worry about losing it. The artist who produced the
painting on your wall was not working hard so that you might one
day fear that a guest would damage it. Nor is the memory of that
beautiful summer in Anguilla actually contained in that carved statue
or the love you share with your spouse limited to the photograph of
the two of you at your wedding. The memory is what’s important.
The experience itself is what matters. You can access that anytime
you want, and no thief can ever deprive you of it.
You will hear people say they don’t have room for a relationship
in their life... and they’re right. Their stuff is taking up too much
space. They’re in love with possessions instead of people.
The family who never see each other because the two parents are
working late to pay off the extra bedrooms they never use? The fame
that keeps someone on the road so much they’re a stranger to their
kids? The supposed “technology” that is a pain in the ass to figure
out, that’s always breaking? The fragile, fancy possessions that we’re
constantly cleaning, buffing, protecting, and trying to find ways to
slyly mention in conversation?