“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simpify.” Thoreau
It was beautiful autumn afternoon, the day I almost cracked in two. I was overwhelmed, overloaded and on the brink of bursting into tears or hiding under my bed, or both.
The worst part was there was nothing specific that had gone wrong – that would have been better. Instead it was a thousand little things that had piled up, demands and worries and problems, until I teetered on the edge, unsure of how to fix it since I really didn’t know what was broken.
The next day, after a fitful night’s sleep, I got up early and went for a long walk. A nature trail near my house offers the cool shelter of trees, which is why I often cut through it when I’m out for a run, but now I lingered, noticing the small streams, the fresh, damp smell of morning, and the soothing sounds of insects and birdsong. I sat on a flat rock and leaned back against a tree. Through the mounting chaos in my mind, the words of Thoreau found me: “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
Easy for Thoreau to say, he lived in woods like these. He didn’t have demanding editors and money worries and a wobbly washing machine. Instead of finding his often-quoted words calming at that moment, I found them irritating. Life in Thoreau’s day already was simpler. But as I headed home, I started to wonder if he was right. Perhaps all this stress was self-imposed. In a world of instant everything, of constant upgrades and a non-stop flow of information and over-sharing and reality television, could I really find a way to simplify? I determined right then and there that I was going to try.
Before I did anything else, I sat down with a pencil and paper and listed the most important things in my life, and it turned out there were only six: my writing, my husband/family, my spiritual well-being, my physical health, balanced and healthy relationships, and giving back. Once I saw them in writing, I was startled how much easier it was to see where I could simplify.
For starters, I ruthlessly cut down on the amount of time I spend online. As a writer, much of my life is spent on e-mail, which connects me not only to my editors but to incoming assignments, which in turn pay the bills. Even so, there is no need for me to check it five times in an hour. I set aside three times a day – in the morning, after lunch, and just before I log off at night – to check e-mail. I let my editors know if they need me urgently, they should call.
The even bigger time vacuums for me were online news sites and social media. The moment I realized I’d just looked at the news for the fifth time without seeing anything different was the moment I realized I had a problem. Facebook and Twitter also constantly drew me in. Not only did I log on to “just check” several times a day, sometimes I’d be scrolling through my feed without even really looking at it. And I may have 500 friends on Facebook, but the constant arguing and pontificating about social and political issues made me realize maybe I have about 498 friends too many. I cut back to only checking in twice a day, then once. Now there are days I don’t even think to check at all. Not so coincidentally, those are the days my blood pressure doesn’t spike up and I never hear myself say “Are you KIDDING ME with that?”
I moved on to facing the other issues that were clogging up my life. I weeded out all my toxic, one-sided relationships. Promising to “get together sometime” with someone who makes me feel bad about myself or uncomfortable in his or her presence was more hurtful to both of us in the long run. I stopped making those promises and began to focus on the positive, enriching relationships I have. When a demand on my time or mental energy arose, I’d hold it up against my list of Things That Mattered. If it didn’t fit in, I said no.
Decluttering also took on a literal meaning as I went through my house and reorganized or purged things I didn’t need or that caused me unnecessary stress. I shouldn’t have to dump everything out of my kitchen drawers just to find the scissors.
It’s a work in progress, this business of simplifying, but I reap the benefits every day. I make time to exercise, to shop for healthy food, to read, to meditate, to reach inward, to be alone with my thoughts and listen to what they’re trying to tell me. There’s a peace in me now that starts inside and radiates out. It makes me wonder why I ever thought I could find it externally and make it radiate in.
Now, when I head to the nature trail where it all began, I always stop, among the thousands of bits of beauty all around me, and I find my place within that beauty, within the peace of a simpler life. With a clearer head and a calmer heart, I’ve found the truth in Thoreau’s words.
