Less Stuff, More Life

May 3 , 2025
By Kidist Yidnekachew

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There is a little thrill that comes with buying something new, the excitement of having the means, walking out with a bag in hand. That moment can feel validating, even joyful. It is easy to get swept up, purchasing not just what is needed, but whatever catches the eye, smells nice, or simply looks good.

Then comes the flip side. The quiet dread of checking a depleted account or opening an empty wallet. That hollow feeling, sharp, familiar, and hard to ignore.

In a recent interview, Dr. Kumneger, better known as Dr. Zion on TikTok, shared a reminder: life was not meant to be an endless chase. Somewhere along the way, the idea took hold that survival demands a surplus of possessions. But does it?

Scrolling through social media, there was a post where someone questioned why a girl wore the same outfit in multiple videos. Meanwhile, not far from these digital conversations, communities exist where owning even a single change of clothes is a luxury, not for fashion, but for covering oneself. There is a strange kind of freedom in that contrast. A release from the relentless pressure, especially in city life, to curate every detail, to have closets bursting with variety. The love of clothing remains, the exhaustion of constant consumption lingers.

And homes are no different. A house was once a place of shelter, gathering, and rest, with a few essential furnishings. Today, living comfortably seems to require the eye of an interior designer. Each corner must be styled exactly right, and each item photo-worthy. Function has given way to performance.

The mind drifts back to an earlier time in Ethiopia, those years in the ’90s and early 2000s. Simpler, perhaps. During high school graduation season, there were no professional makeup artists or elaborate salon visits. A bit of eyeliner was essential, some eyebrow shaping, and a touch of shadow. Hair was styled, nails maybe painted, but fake lashes and full-face contouring were not part of the ritual. It felt easy. Authentic.

Now, even an ordinary weekend calls for glam squads and studio-level prep. Effort and expense have become everyday expectations. The bar keeps rising, yet the satisfaction often feels further away.

Maybe it is just nostalgia, but those who came of age before the constant glow of smartphones and the infinite scroll of social media knew a different kind of presence. Moments were unfiltered. Lives were less curated. We saw the world with our own eyes, not through a lens engineered for validation.

These days, choosing simplicity feels like an act of resistance. A conscious, daily decision to shift focus from what can be accumulated to what can be nurtured. The pull toward more, more stuff, more style, more content, is relentless.

It is a bit absurd, isn’t it? The way we speak of time as our most precious resource, how we must guard it, and spend it wisely. And yet, we claw out “free time” by stealing it from our children, our partners, our families, only to hand it over to the void: TikTok scrolls, meaningless distractions, and work that never really ends. The people who matter most often get what is left.

Working from home blurs all the lines. It does not always feel like work, but it invades every corner of the day. Sometimes, the desire for quiet is not about peace, it is about reclaiming the phone that has been hijacked by little hands all afternoon. And once the kids are in bed, that reclaimed time gets lost again, to screens, to tasks, to more invisible labour.

But then a stark thought lands: If today was the last day or your last day on earth, would any of this matter? The deliverables? The meetings? The likes? Absolutely not. What matters are the moments soaked in love and laughter, the ordinary rituals that become memories. The people. And yet, look at what often gets prioritised.

No one remembers you for being efficient at emails. But they remember how you made them feel, how present you were, or were not. Being half-there, multitasking, glancing sideways at a screen while nodding at a child’s story, it adds up. Quietly. Tragically.

One video offered a reminder: quality time does not need to be orchestrated. It can exist in the everyday. Letting children join the rhythm of life, folding laundry, washing dishes, and watering plants, turns routine into connection. It transforms guilt into grace.

We have been taught to believe that hustle is the only way forward. And yes, there are seasons of sacrifice. But when achievement costs you the people you claim to live for, it is worth asking who is winning.

Priorities differ. Some chase ambition. Others, stability. Some want wealth. All valid. But if family truly comes first, then the calendar should reflect that truth. Time is the most finite currency, and this world is designed to steal it. The real richness is not in what is owned, but in how that time is spent, and with whom.

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PUBLISHED ON May 03,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1305]

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