Simplification

Last year I gradually cleaned out my campus office. Each week I put more files in recycling, deleted emails, and gave away textbooks. The process was cathartic. As I tossed out the old, I wondered: why have I kept all this for so long? The quick answer: I didn't have time, while in the throes of the academic calendar, to purge my materials. Yet I made time last year, even as I worked long hours. The deeper answer: I clung to those materials; they provided me a sense of security. If I really simplified at the office, I would see how unhappy I was.

My schedule is now flexible. Time is not an issue. Besides writing, connecting, and exploring, I'm drawn to simplification--cleaning out the pantry, my closets, the few junk drawers. I see what an accomplished consumer I used to be. I collected things as a way to fill an unnamed emptiness. But it didn't help. What did help was my commitment to inner-work, not the clothes I accrued.

It's interesting: since I quit my job, I must simplify (we're down to one income); yet not having my job makes it easy to simplify. I'm not overwhelmed by life. I'm not exhausted at the end of the day. I no longer need all the band-aids of years past: new clothes, new books, easy dinners, expensive lotions. Instead, I practice actual self-care: meditation, reflection, nourishment, presence.

Mark's great at sussing out needs from wants. Often he'll ask me, do you really need that? Do you have to take this particular action? Do you have no choice? My quick reaction is yes, but my eventual response is no. There are few material goods I need. There are few tasks that must be done in a very specific way. There are few circumstances in which I don't have a choice.

Because I (blessedly) have extra capacity, I more clearly observe my surroundings. I see how people often interact with the world: rushing, interrupting, complaining, longing. I just rented a car and an employee asked about my plans. I told her I'll spent the weekend at a silent meditation retreat. She replied, "wow, I so need a meditation retreat." (The whole office gave a collective sigh.) Yet we continue to apply band-aids. We're overwhelmed by work, commitments, and life, but instead of meditation retreats we choose busyness (more gadgets, eating out, mindless activities, texts instead of conversations). The very things our souls crave--creativity, space, rest, reflection, connection--elude us. 

But here's the good news: we can make different choices, right now, in this moment. I choose to get off-line and spend the weekend in silent meditation. Is there a different choice you can make now, maybe a micro-choice? A choice that fills instead of depletes? A choice that simplifies instead of complicates? A choice that connects you more deeply to yourself and others?