Tweet

In a world that constantly urges us to consume more, acquire more, and be more, there lies a profound, almost sacred counter-current: simplicity. To many, minimal living is just a practical lifestyle choice. To me, it is something deeper; a spiritual path, a deliberate unburdening of the soul that creates space for true freedom, clarity, and connection.

This is not just about less. It is about lightness. It is about presence. It is about choosing truth over noise, devotion over distraction, and freedom over fear. It is a stripping-down to the naked essence of who I truly am.

Freedom in Less

For more than a decade, I have embraced minimalism not merely as an aesthetic but as a full-bodied commitment to freedom. This isn’t Scandinavian decor or tidy closet hacks. This is sacred rebellion. This is a spiritual discipline.

Living simply means shedding the chains of excess, material, mental, emotional, and walking barefoot and naked through life with intention. In my 26-foot motorhome, I carry only what I need. And even that is constantly reevaluated.

Every item I choose to keep must earn its space; not just physically, but spiritually. If it doesn’t align with my peace, my path, or my pleasure, it is gone. This way of life is not deprivation; it is liberation. It is the radical act of no longer being a servant to things.

Minimal living is how I reclaim my power and my time. It is how I say “no” to the lie that more will make me whole. It’s how I return, over and over, to what is real.

The Sacred Space of Stillness

Simplicity creates an altar for stillness. And in that stillness, the divine speaks; not in words, but in pulses, tremors, breath.

My environment, stripped of chaos and clutter, becomes a temple. My body, nude and unhindered, becomes a living vessel. My home is not just a motorhome. It is a sanctuary of sensation, slowness, and still, sacred pleasure.

As a sexologist and a devoted naturist, I find this quiet essential. Not just in meditation or ritual, but in every mundane act: boiling tea, rinsing my body with spring water, watching the sun trace lines across the earth. Every moment, when met without distraction, becomes a form of prayer.

And it is in that silence, when the world outside dims, that I can hear the raw truth of my being. I do not need to search for the divine in temples or texts. It is here, in the wild quiet. It is here, in my skin. It is here, in the hum of stillness between things.

The Erotic in the Essential

Simplicity is deeply erotic. When you live without distraction, you begin to feel again. You taste more, touch more, notice more. The sensual becomes sacred.

When I stretch across my bed under the open sky, nothing between my skin and the breeze, I feel every breath as worship. When I receive pleasure, fully and attentively, it becomes communion. The more I remove from my life, the more magnified each sensation becomes. A warm mug in my palms. A moan echoing into the morning air.

Simplicity teaches you to receive more by needing less. And in that, your eroticism becomes not something you pursue, but something you live. Fully. Honestly. Openly.

Less Noise, More Truth

The spirituality of simplicity teaches us to tune out the noise—the endless barrage of ads, influencers, outrage, trend cycles, and instead, listen inward.

When I walked away from the structures of modern living, when I left behind the suburban house, the job titles, the schedules, I also walked away from lies I didn’t even know I’d been told.

Lies like: “You need to buy this to be happy.”
“You need to be busier to be valuable.”
“You need to shrink yourself to be acceptable.”

No.
What I needed was less; less noise, less pressure, less pretending.
And what I discovered in that quiet was a voice that had always been there. My own.

Minimalism is not about rules or rigidity. It’s not about restriction. It’s about recognition: of what matters, of what feeds your spirit, of what aligns with your truth.

The Power of Presence

When you live simply, every experience gains weight and texture.

You begin to taste the air before the storm.
You feel the ash beneath your heel from last night’s fire.
You notice the breath of another person and the way it dances with yours.

You become a witness to your own life rather than a distracted passenger.
You become available; to joy, to grief, to love, to lust, to the divine.

This presence is, in itself, a spiritual discipline. One that cannot be faked. It is a presence forged by attention. And attention cannot flourish in a life overfull.

Living minimally makes space for reverence. For awareness. For deep devotion to the present moment.

Embrace Your Own Path

Minimalism is not a one-size-fits-all formula. It is not a Pinterest board or a tiny house trend. It is a personal, evolving dance with truth.

For me, it means:

• Living nude and barefoot in nature.
• Dwelling in an off-grid motorhome.
• Leaving behind citizenship and system.
• Following the voice of the divine as it speaks through wind, body, and desire.

Your simplicity will look different.
And that is the beauty of it.
There is no one right way to live freely.
There is only your way.

Simplicity is not about doing without.
It is about doing with intention.
It is about making space; for joy, for peace, for erotic surrender, for soul.

Return to the Sacred Quiet

Your soul knows what simplicity feels like.

It may look like:

• Decluttering your physical space.
• Spending more time outdoors, barefoot.
• Turning off the screen and turning toward stillness.
• Saying no to commitments that don’t nourish you.
• Replacing performance with truth.

Simplicity is the gentle art of letting go.
Of loosening your grip on the world so you can finally hold yourself.

In the sacred quiet that lives inside “less,” you will find something extraordinary:

Your whole self.
Naked. Honest. Radiant. Free.

With barefoot devotion,
– Susie Spades, PhD
Sexologist, Barefoot Naturist