To this day, I still remember that feeling of moving into a completely empty house.

I’d just made the massive move from Castle Hill in NSW, Australia, to Dana Point in California, USA.

It was both for work and for the call of a new adventure that I made the move. But I wasn’t aware that the change of living environment would also shift what was important to me.

Before leaving Australia, I’d sold almost everything I owned — couches, dining room furniture, desks, shelves, TV, stereo, even my precious book and CD collection.

My first thought as I stepped foot inside the empty four walls was that as soon as I got settled, I would need to start recollecting everything I was missing. That somehow getting a new collection of household items was essential to me feeling like I had my life together.

But funnily enough, as the weeks and months wore on, I resisted replacing most of the items.

Yes, I eventually got a couch, a modest dining room set, a bed, and a desk. But I didn’t replace all the books, the music collection, the knick-knacks, and those non-essential kitchen utensils.

And amazingly, I felt fine.

In fact, I felt freer than I had in several years.

That realization that I didn’t need as much stuff has stayed with me ever since that move over 16 years ago. The less I was attached to my stuff, the more freedom I had to experience life and to value what truly mattered.

There was a period for a few years when minimalism and ‘living with less’ were all the rage. I have to admit that the people who espoused that philosophy were always a bit preachy for me. The simple act of considering whether or not you needed something to be happy was enough of a rubric for me.

I’m not saying that I live like an ascetic monk today; however, I do consider whether I actually need something before I compulsively buy it and store it in my home.

This moment of pre-purchase reflection has saved me a lot of money, and makes the space I live in feel more intentional.

We are often told that we should make a lot of money in our careers, so we can have a nice home and afford ‘nice things’.

Yet, I have learned that the nice things are often experiences and inner growth, rather than the constant accumulation of things we can live without.