The simplification of anything is always sensational.
—G. K. Chesterton
Simple. Simplify. Simplification. Simplicity. A single English word so packed with hidden meaning in its various forms. Yet, to act upon it is to face yourself, your most simple, uncomplicated self. Because as we know, life is not necessarily simple. We look back into the past, when life was obviously less complex, in the way we know life now. There were no cell phones demanding our attention, our response to each little request, nor could we, as humans, be reached or contacted as easily as we can now. It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? And perhaps it was. A deeper look into those past times, however, reveals incurable sickness, of wellness we take for granted now. Or really, how many of us would give up the ease, formerly a luxury, of flying off to a wonderful vacation, or to visit distant family members? Not many, would be my guess. There are thousands of articles written about simplifying your life, encouraging everything from daily or weekly routines to help organize your time, to courses promising to deliver an easier existence, with more time for your family, your hobby, your pet project. We read them, we sign up for the courses, we do the work, and it works out for us, or it doesn’t, but there always seems to be yet another thing ‘disrupting’ our lives, and causing us stress.
Think now to visions of calm, peace, serenity, and rest. What do these images depict? Usually soothing places, activities, events, and the like. An observation of mine is that these images, either in our heads or as a photograph in front of us, show us a world bereft of human beings. There may be one or two people in these images, but many are largely of nature: beautiful beaches, inspiring mountain ranges, a windswept desert, cascading waterfalls. These are the things that calm us, give us a respite from the whirl of daily life, and many seek these environments for that purpose. Life, however, is non-stop, and these times away in these beautiful places, if you’re able, are invaluable to our well-being. But what about the rest of your life? How do you find peace and tranquility there, of the sort spending a week in the mountains might give? To me, this begs the question of what have you created in your life that demands your attention, yet really doesn’t feed you in a way that is particularly healthy? In my case, as an inveterate reader, I have stacks of books, magazines, things saved on my smartphone to be read. One day. Someday. Perhaps when I’m sitting on that empty beach or the front porch of a mountain retreat. But not likely, as those mini escapes don’t happen with the regularity needed to clear your head.
So, what do I do, you might ask? In my case, I go back to basics. For me, that means journaling every morning, clearing my head of stray thoughts, and beginning the day with a clean slate and a calm mind. I’ve done this for approximately twenty-five years at this time, and when I’m pulled in other direction by work, life, family, I physically feel the need to do it. My favorite fountain pen in hand, with my yellow legal-pad, I let pour whatever is on my mind onto the page. I usually have a thought I’d like to follow up on, so I jot it down on another pad nearby, but it is such a cathartic beginning to my day, and one that allows me to start my days fresh, whatever else may lie ahead to enhance or possibly disrupt that mood. The simplicity of pen and paper, and there is something about that method, something visceral, that typing won’t allow, that permits me to exalt, to mope, to think deeply, to bring myself to a place where I recognize the real me, the simple, uncomplicated me, and so my day begins.