On needing less, less, less

I hesitate to bold this title on the page, wishing to change the default of all uppercase, on this journey for more and more quiet. You see, I’ve recently discovered minimalism, handed the key to a secret world. People out there think this recipe can save them, that trimming down will cut the hefty heartbreak that this world loves to hoard.

But there’s something here for the skimming, the motto of less pillows, less sweaters, less likes.

Is it true that less is more?

SUBSCRIBE TODAY!, they all say. Then, and only then can you enter. So I wonder, how many subscriptions can one person manage? Each time they promise no spam, just the chance to win the trip of a lifetime or a new rainbow unicorn.

Can it ever be true that less is more?

Some days beg for less, like no radio, windows down on the ride home from focusing on the breath on the mat in the dark room. No TV when I get home, just cutting words in the essay, all the fluff erased, kept company by the five paper bags busting with clothes that I pray will someday soon walk themselves to Goodwill.

I realize the problem, it’s that I carry around three purses on my shoulder. One work bag, one workout bag, one lunch bag styled like a purse. Why? The work bag alone misaligns my spine, the gentle instructor coming around to press her fingertips to straighten me out, but I’m always prepared when I need a highlighter, an Excedrin, headphones, a journal for this, a journal for that, an orange, or a fresh pair of socks.

And yet, some days still seem suited for more. Like Mother’s Day and bacon.

“Sometimes, when we’re not looking for what we want, we find what we need.”

Erin Loechner, Chasing Slow 

 

 

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