I am not an expert—I just play one on the Internet. Or rather, I wasn’t an expert on anything, until I was.
You see, at 18 I didn’t know how to be a leader. But then I took an entry-level sales job, spent a decade working my way up the corporate ladder, and eventually led a group of 100 people in sixteen locations. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” at inspiring and leading people.
At 22 I didn’t know how to run a successful business. But then, with no formal education, I learned. In the course of time, I opened fourteen profitable retail stores for a large corporation, managed a $52 million operating budget, and eventually oversaw the operations for 150 retail stores (which I realize now, as a minimalist, is a bit ironic in retrospect). Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on business.
At 25 I didn’t know how to get in shape or lose the excess weight that plagued me. But then I changed my diet, began a simple exercise routine, and lost 80 pounds. And now people regularly rely on me for diet and exercise advice. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on health.
At 27 I didn’t know how to live a meaningful life. But then I confronted my discontent, spent two years paying off immense personal debt, and started looking for happiness in life’s more important areas: health, relationships, growth, and contribution—not material possessions. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on intentional living.
At 28 I didn’t know how to be a minimalist. My three-bedroom home was filled with trinkets to prove it. But then I started questioning my stuff, removing one by one the unnecessary things from my life, eventually jettisoning 90% of my material possessions, replacing them with worthwhile experiences. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on minimalism.
At 29 I didn’t know what a blog was. (Seriously!) But then I needed an outlet to share my experiences with other people. So I asked my best friend, Ryan, if he’d be willing to build a website and share his experiences—and my experiences—with the world. He said yes, so we created The Minimalists, started publishing essays (which we later realized were called “blog posts”), and grew our readership to millions of people in 190 countries. Over time, we slowly became “experts” on blogging.
Approaching age 30 I didn’t think it was possible to leave my corporate job to pursue my dream of writing fiction. But then I discovered it was. I had already simplified my life, paid off my debt, changed my spending habits, and radically reduced my cost of living. So I sold my house, paid off my car, eliminated nearly all my bills, and moved into a tiny $500-per-month minimalist apartment. And then I quit. Now people frequently ask me how they, too, can stop living the lie and start living their dream. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on leaving the corporate world in the pursuit of dreams.
At 30 I wasn’t a published author. I had a stack of rejection letters from agents and publishers to prove it. But now, I have published four bestselling books on my own and cofounded my a publishing company, Asymmetrical Press, where we help writers and other creative types circumvent the old guard. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” in the publishing world.
Last year I didn’t think I could be a teacher since I don’t have a college degree. But then I learned I could use my training experience from the corporate world, combined with my love and passion and obsession with writing, to add value to people’s lives. Thus, I started an online writing class. When the class quickly filled up, I was shocked; so I offered an upgraded online version for everyone. Most important, my students—ranging from teenagers to Ph.D.’s—have found tremendous value, have grown as writers, and have given me the opportunity to contribute to their successes. Over time, I slowly became an “expert” on writing and teaching.
I didn’t tell you any of this to brag or boast or inform you of how great I am. I am far from great. There won’t be a life-size bronze statue of Joshua Fields Millburn occupying the streets of Dayton, Ohio, anytime soon. I am flawed and tattered and perfectly imperfect—just like you.
I wasn’t able to do any of the above because I was smarter or better or funnier or more toothsome than the next guy. Instead, there were two commonalities among all these paths to expertise: time and action.
None of it happened overnight; it took time. And it wasn’t easy; it took consistent action—incremental actions that morphed into habits over time. Now, when I look in life’s rearview mirror, everything is different. Over time, I slowly became an “expert.” And so can you.
If you find value in The Minimalists, consider donating a dollar.