In which I won’t die with the most toys, but I may just die with zero stress… and nothing to show for it.

The winner isn’t the one with the most toys, she’s the one who has what she values most. I don’t value stuff all that much, or fame, or any of those quantifiable things: I value feeling good. (And yes, I realize that means I can redefine success whenever I need to: I’m not stupid, people.) Feeling “good” to me means I’m not tired, I’m not angry, and I’m not frightened.

Perhaps it’s lame to define happiness in negatives (how not-frightened am I? and how not-tired?) but I doubt it. I mock folks who define happiness by their stuff: look at my house! My car! My trophy wife! My nice stuff!

In a conversation with Truck the other night, I heard myself saying, “I live here because this way I can stand the world. I must live in a world where people are more good than evil, more smart than stupid, more kind than cruel. If they’re not good, smart, and kind, then I need to be able to believe that it’s generally for a good – or at least understandable – reason.

“If I have to live in a world where everyone is an idiot, I just don’t see the point in doing anything at all.”

Living in this little town – population 9,500 – allows me to live a mentally comfortable life. I’m confronted with no overcrowding, no senseless crime, and none of the little painful cruelties of life in the big city: I don’t carry 4 lbs of keys everywhere I go; everything is within walking distance; I know everyone by sight. Nearly everyone here is from somewhere else, so people tend to be well-traveled, open-minded, and well-spoken.

I often wonder if I’ve taken the easy way out: my life here is a success because it’s nearly impossible to be unsuccessful here. The status quo is practically level. We all live in the same old buildings in the same old tax bracket and we all wear the same old Walmart clothes.

Avarice here is kept to a minimum because there’s nothing to want. Most people I know concentrate their buying on their hobby mainly, and all other purchases are made from necessity. We don’t wear chic clothes, we don’t drive chic cars. Functionality nearly always trumps style because the weather here sucks.

In other words, I’m not confronted with beautiful, expensive things I can’t have unless I travel.

So I live here, and my life is simple and clean. I have what I need and I’m grateful for those things. I’m grateful for the food I eat and the shelter I enjoy. I feel nearly smug when I consider how little I own these days: some clothes, some books, a guitar, a vehicle, and a knitting bag.

Hey, me? I’m not some conehead filling up space with crap. I’m an aesthetic!

I used to feel smug about my vegetarianism, until I realized it’s easy for me not to eat meat. I think the same just might be true about how lightly I live in the world: I’m not confronted with gorgeous crap I want, so I should hardly get points for not buying it.

They say it’s easier to be a renunciate than a householder. I suspect I’m beginning to understand why.