You can always change your dream
How one book convinced me to sell a house.
Four years ago, my partner and I bought a big ol’ house in the Macedon Ranges. It was our first home. And we bought during COVID so we couldn’t actually see it in person before buying – but we left Melbourne all the same.
It was a dream come true (if you dream about renovations). Our new home had loads of room, was just two streets away from family, and –gasp – had ample space for new gardens.
I can't overstate how much I love building gardens. Over the last four years, I’ve made ponds and birdbaths, dug up our lawn into new garden beds, and run rampant with native grasses. Now they’re filled with animal life, from tiny lizards skittering to birds bathing and even tadpoles growing. I take morning strolls around the place, delighting in seeing plants flower for the first time or come back to life after a dark winter.
Buying this house was life changing.
Now we're moving again. We bought a small apartment in Melbourne. This place is about to go on the market.
And I can't wait.
How do you want to live?
This change was prompted by a book (as so many changes are): We are the economy by Kai Romhardt, a German business analyst and Buddhist. At its heart, the book's about building a conscious, intentional, and fulfilling approach to work.
By working and spending money, we contribute to the economic behaviour of our society. If we run on autopilot, we buy into the dominant economic system. (In my case, capitalism.) Romhardt argues that by becoming aware of our choices, we have a greater scope for change and intention than we realise.
Changing the way you work
Romhardt offers up four key areas of money, work and consumption to break down:
How do I behave when working, deal with money, or buy/consume things? What mental energy do I bring when I interact with the economy?
What’s the real nature of work, money and consumption? What do I assume is normal? What beliefs guide my actions?
How much do I consume? Do I have a clear view of “enough”? How does my consumption relate to the other areas of my life and the environment?
Why do I do the things I do? What are my deep motivations? How do I define success?
The goal, according to Romhardt, is to do the right thing (the "what..." question) with money, work, and consumption in a wholesome way ("how..."), in the right amount ("how much...") and for just reasons ("why...").
By running through these questions, we come to understand our priorities. And I wasn't living by mine.
What's enough?
Looking over Romhardt's questions, I came to realise that I had started to see the house through a purely financial lens.
It was an investment, not a home. It needed work done, both major and minor. It was an expense. Even if I wanted to change jobs in the future, I wouldn't be able to do something I wanted to do and afford the mortgage.
There was an ambient worry floating around me. I was focused on money – and not even money now. It was money in a week, a month, a year: expenses to cover, capital to gain.
But, according to Romhardt, focusing on the future limits our ability to focus clearly on the present. It can lead to being unhappy, stressed, and frustrated for a long time as we chase a better future.
It wasn't just about money, though. It was about time and values.
Too much house
We simply had too much house for me to handle. I realised that this particular flavour of homeownership didn't align with my values. I believe, fundamentally, in a way of living that minimises our use of resources.
For me, that means medium-density living that allows for community and comfort. It means places you can walk, bike, train, and tram. It means friends, community, music and art, not just… stuff.
I wasn't living that way. I lived far away from many of the people and things I love. I deeply resented the hours of highway between me and friends, and began craving spontaneity. I felt trapped. My feelings of worry or sadness became associated with a very weird thought: I kinda want to buy something. It was stuff-based dopamine.
I wanted to own less space and spend time with more people in more places. It's like C. S. Lewis once said:
Friendship is the greatest of worldly goods. Certainly to me it is the chief happiness of life. If I had to give a piece of advice to a young man about a place to live, I think I should say, 'sacrifice almost everything to live where you can be near your friends.’
Honesty and reflection
Let's go back to Romhardt's questions and answer them:
How do I behave when working, deal with money, or buy/consume things? What mental energy do I bring when I interact with the economy? I was stressed, anxious and looking to buy things to soothe a bit of worry.
What’s the real nature of work, money and consumption? What do I assume is normal? What beliefs guide my actions? “Normal” was a big house and high paying job. That didn't match up to my beliefs of a small, more sustainable life.
How much do I consume? Do I have a clear view of “enough”? My view of “enough“ was spiralling beyond what I felt like I could manage.
Why do I do the things I do? What are my deep motivations? How do I define success? My motivations were people, community, and creativity. Success was building great relationships.
I came to realise that living in this house wasn't enabling the life I wanted to live. So it was time for a change.
In a few months, we’ll be living in a new part of Melbourne. There’s a cinema and theatre within a 10 minute walk. There are more sport clubs, community groups, and gardens. We’ll have friends nearby for easy catch-ups and evenings together. (You’d best believe we’re hosting game nights.)
Last weekend we went to a working bee held by game developer Paper House, whose small studio is around the corner from our new place. We helped clean out a grimy warehouse, which they’ll use as a new community space. Terry, one of the founders of Paper House, barbecued amazing-smell ribs and gave us enthusiastic recommendations for the area.
Even more exciting: I went to get lunch (I’m vegetarian and, alas, couldn’t eat the ribs) and was just thrilled to be walking on the streets. I can’t wait to call this place home. It feels right.
Four years ago, my partner and I bought a home, and it was a dream come true.
Now we're doing it again.