Simplify Your Life

Got this email from my friend Dani:
"One thing that I've realized through the years, is that what I consider and define as simple, can be quite different from everyone else. Some people consider simplicity living off the earth, gardening, cloth diapering, making food from scratch, and "getting back to the earth". Others believe in having very sparse, minimalist, decor, eating simply prepared meals (via microwave) or eating out (then you don't have to cook). We went to a discussion on simplicity a year ago, and people were arguing about what it meant. Finally, a friend of mine pointed out that if microwaving vegetables for a meal, enables her to have more time with her children, or if using a dryer to dry clothes instead of line drying them frees up time, then isn't that simplifying too? It was amazing when people started to realize, that baked from scratch foods might be simple in one sense, yet in another sense and situation, they may not be.I loved how you mentioned in your last email Krissie:"I am happy with this and living simply means I can enjoy and not be a slave to the house which is feeling too big for us as we age. "It's causing me to wonder about what living simply means to me, and to the rest of you.-Dani"

So here's what I'm thinking of sending back:

Great question, Dani! Caused me to think a lot about what a simple life means. Do I automatically have a simple life because I live on a boat? I think not. I'm independent of the power grid and very conscious of the environment and limited in my possessions, does that make it "simple?" At the same time, the systems on a boat are in many ways more complicated than in a house - you never have to take precautions about your house sinking.

My attempt to define simplicity: Everything I choose to include in my life supports my chosen way of living. When I look at commitments on my calendar, or possessions on my shelves, or names in my address book, I feel these things give me energy and pleasure, they don't drain my energy or make me sad or stressed. I wish I could remember the name of the architect who said, "Have nothing in your home that you don't believe to be beautiful or know to be useful." I think that's a pretty good summary and guide for a simple life as a whole. I'd also add that I strive to have nothing that exists solely to impress others or satisfy others' expectations of what I "should" have or do.

Simplicity is also a matter of priorities. In one sense, moving onto the boat forced some focus. As my friend Linda said when I asked her how to decide what to take, it's simple: "first safety stuff, then tools, then everything else" (until you ran out of locker space.)

Simpicity for me also means no excess. My friend Lucy describes visiting her Uncle Bud in rural Texas, quite a colorful character. She asked for a cup of tea and discovered that Uncle Bud only owned two spoons. "Uncle Bud, why do you only have two spoons?" "Why do I need more?" Uncle Bud answered. "I only got one mouth."

One morning when we still lived in a house, I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee. I stood at the cabinet, coffee pot in hand, and saw a lovely set of ceramic mugs in a glowing shade of amber that I'd inherited from my Mom. I also saw a lighthearted mug that I had bought on the last day of a vacation with Dan, and the mugs that matched our dishes, and the freebies I'd gotten at a conference, etc. Suddenly I realized that here I was, standing at the kitchen counter while my coffee cooled, spending energy to make a decision about which mug would best suit my mood today. (Actually, spending double energy since I'm terrible before coffee) I call these "microdecisions" - whichever way you decide doesn't make any difference at all in the long run, but you still have to spend energy deciding! What a waste excess can cause, on so many levels!

A few weeks ago I pulled out my winter clothes. Some, like my cuddly Irish fisherman's sweater or my dark brown pantsuit, I welcomed back like old friends. Others I looked at with a feeling of dread - I was obligated to wear them because I had paid good money for them. Someone I was shopping with had talked me into them, or they were on sale for a good price, or they fit the image of what a grownup should wear. Ironically, those dreaded clothes are the ones I wear more than the ones I love - hoping they'll wear out enough that I can shed them without guilt. Now, whazzup with that???

So I've developed a litmus test that works for me, simplicity is support, and it's enemies are surplus and "should."