Let’s imagine for a moment that everything disappeared.
Your clothes, your phone, your art, your bed; every shiny or sentimental thing that makes your space yours. What’s left? You. Standing there, blinking, wondering if this is a minimalist awakening or a cosmic joke with terrible timing.

At first, you’d probably panic. I would. Let’s be honest. The human attachment to “stuff” isn’t weakness; it’s identity. We collect the world like magpies collecting glimmers of who we think we are. That gold ring from your grandmother, the hoodie that still smells like your ex, the chipped coffee mug you swear makes tea taste better; they all whisper stories about us.

But here’s a strange truth: research shows we adapt astonishingly fast to loss. Psychologists call it the “hedonic treadmill,” meaning no matter how good or bad things get, humans tend to return to a baseline of emotional balance. In other words, after the crying, the phone calls, and one dramatic shower scene, you’d probably start laughing at the absurdity of it all.

And then, life would simplify.

Without possessions, you’d have to decide who you are without your costume. Would you still feel powerful without the designer jacket? Still creative without your favorite notebook? Still “you” without the curated spaces that tell people what to think?

Maybe you’d rediscover something ancient… the self that existed before ownership.

When everything’s gone, you start paying attention differently. The wind becomes your first language again. The stars stop being a background and start being company. And you realize how little of your worth was ever held in a drawer or a digital folder.

Of course, I’d still want my laptop back. Let’s not pretend enlightenment doesn’t prefer Wi-Fi. But there’s wisdom in learning to live lighter. Studies show minimalism can actually lower stress, improve focus, and even make people feel more gratitude. Maybe losing it all, even hypothetically, is a reminder that the world’s most valuable things… love, laughter, imagination, breath; were never things at all.

So what would I do if I lost all my possessions?
I’d probably cry, then journal about it on the back of an old receipt, then laugh at how human that is.
I’d find a sunrise and call it mine.
I’d dance barefoot on something that doesn’t belong to me.
And I’d remember that the only thing we ever truly own is our capacity to begin again.

Because the soul travels light.
And maybe, that’s the point.

~ Nic ✨