Do an internet search on simple living and you’ll get a host of responses, ranging from those who are committed to cutting back from five Starbucks frappuccinos per day to merely one to those who have renounced all excess, all materialism, and all technology… except for the internet. Simple Living is the catch-phrase for those motivated to escape city life and the rat race and move out to a farm in Vermont where they can raise chickens and organic rutabagas and watch the sunset from their rocking chairs on the quaintly weathered front porch. Simple Living is the promise of a thousand self-help books, a thousand time management books, a thousand personal development books, and ten thousand websites on the same subjects. Simple Living can be had, purportedly, by cutting back on time spent at work, by taking longer vacations, by thinking consciously, by practicing yoga and meditation, by cooking only organic food, by eliminating the stress-inducing people in your life, and by getting rid of clutter.
Hmm. Personally, I enjoy all the time I spend “at work” and I don’t really want to cut back at all. I guess longer vacations might be nice but by the end of that two-week Christmas break I’m usually rabid for a normal, productive routine again. I’m not sure of any way to really think except consciously; isn’t that the very meaning of thinking? Yoga, meditation, organic food… great things, certainly, but if simply added to an already unsimplified life they will only become so much more complication. As for eliminating the stress-inducing people in my life, I’ve found that they are usually the ones I am related to or close friends with. It is the very closeness and depth of the relationships that creates the opportunity for stress. I don’t get stressed out about the day-to-day problems or emotional upheavals experienced by my acquaintances. It’s not that I don’t care, theoretically, it’s just that there’s not enough emotional connection to produce true empathy. But if it’s my husband or sister or best friend, well, that’s another story. And I’m just not willing to eliminate them for the sake of simple living. Call me crazy.
Getting rid of clutter seems like a valid concept in the search for simple living. In fact, my personal definition of simple living is just that: a life without clutter. Clutter. Unnecessary details. Extraneous, inconsequential items. “Our life is frittered away by detail…simplify, simplify,” said Thoreau, the ultimate Simple Liver. He cut the clutter to a point a tad too extreme for most of us, but I respect his premise. I also respect the fact that he uses the word “fritter,” which, frankly, I find rather hard to do in a serious sentence. I digress.
Clutter. Clutter is the natural enemy of simplicity. Clutter always creates a state of disorder which, in turn, creates a feeling of unrest and unfinished business, of urgency, of stress and anxiety and an overwhelming desire to just chuck it all and flee to the Bahamas. Few of us actually do chuck it all and flee to the Bahamas. If we did, we might find that simplicity after all, thanks to clutter. What happens more often, though, is that we keep slogging through the morass of clutter, hating the way we’re living, dissatisfied with where we’re going, frustrated by how we are forced to spend our time: on the mundane, the unimportant, the things we really don’t care about.
Remember those days in school when all your homework seemed pointless? You spend a couple of hours reading the assignments, maybe drawing a map or copying equations, and the question ringing through your head the entire time was this: “How will this possibly do me any good in real life?” Do you ever feel that way now, maybe halfway through returning a phone call about a school bake-sale or organizing papers for another board meeting? Do you hear that question again but choose to ignore it? It scares you too much because you know this is real life. And if all this stuff you’re doing isn’t doing you any good, then your life must be pretty pointless.
Lest you despair at that last statement, ponder the mantra of Anonymous Organizations everywhere: The first step is admitting you’ve got a problem. You’ve got to admit you’re overweight before you’ll commit to a diet. You’ve got to admit your metabolism has slowed down before you’ll commit to an exercise regimen. You’ve got to admit your finances are in bad shape before you’ll commit to a budget. And you’ve got to admit you’re crazy before you’ll commit yourself to Shady Acres. Oops, that last one just slipped in there. What I meant to say was this: You’ve got to admit your life is cluttered before you’ll commit to simplifying.
I sense the development of a brand-new slogan here: Admit and Commit. I can just picture a crowd of women, all of us with slightly unkempt hair and slightly out-dated wardrobes, holding hands and chanting together, “Admit and Commit. Admit and Commit. Admit and Commit.”
Maybe we don’t need to go so far as to have a Cluttered Lives Anonymous gathering (though it’s probably not such a bad idea), but we do need to quit wasting time. Quit frittering life away, as our friend Thoreau says. We are dissatisfied with cluttered lives because we know we can do more and be more. Fear keeps us in the clutter. We fear change, we fear disapproval, we fear getting lost in a wilderness of the unfamiliar. So we stay where we are because we feel somewhat secure in a life that is predictable. It isn’t enjoyable, maybe, or exciting, or fulfilling, or even close to what we dreamed about five or ten or twenty years ago, but we’ve learned what to expect from it and we know how to respond.
My challenge to all of us honorary Cluttered Lives Anonymous members is this: Admit you want something better. Then commit to one action that will bring you closer to whatever that better might be. I don’t think you should quit your job, end your friendships, leave your spouse, quit talking to your kids, drop all your social activities, or throw out all your material possessions. In fact, I think the worst time to make those kind of decisions is when you are frustrated, stressed, and worn out by the accumulated details of a cluttered life. Simple Living isn’t an all-or-nothing bargain. It’s a series of choices that you make that takes you from spending the majority of your time on the unimportant to spending the majority of your time on the most important.
Think about one small habit you could change in your life. Think about one of those mundane details you find yourself constantly checking. You are the most qualified person to find a way to eliminate that detail. Can you incorporate it into a routine so it doesn’t require continual decisions and attention? Can you eliminate it altogether? Can you delegate it? Can you shoot it out of a bazooka so you never have to think about it again? Can you make it part of something you do enjoy? Start thinking and then do it. This can be the first choice you make toward a life that is simple and fulfilling.
