Lately I’ve been circling back to simplicity—not in a big, dramatic way, but more like returning to a quiet idea I never fully let go of.
Years ago, I experimented with Voluntary Simplicity. The version I picked up then was structured and detailed, focused on tracking every penny, making charts, and hitting targets. I appreciated the values behind it—less consumption, more intention, deeper alignment with what matters—but the method wore me out. I ended up walking away before I really found my rhythm.
Now, things feel different. Not only because I’ve had to tighten my budget, but because I’ve come to want less—not just fewer things, but less noise, less pressure, less internal and external clutter. I’m drawn again to simplicity, this time more organically. Not as a lifestyle strategy, but as a reflection of a quieter self I’m beginning to notice more often.
Meditation has been part of that shift. Over time, it’s helped me empty out what no longer needs to be carried—mentally, emotionally, even physically. As the mind settles, the need for external stimulation loosens its grip. It’s not that nonduality demands a minimalist life—but as the sense of separation between self and surroundings begins to dissolve, the two begin to mirror each other. A clearer inner space invites a simpler outer one.
This time around, I’m not trying to build a new system. I don’t want another set of rules to follow. I just want to listen—to notice what’s already working, and lean into that.
A few things that seem to help:
- I’m thinking more about what I really value—not in some abstract sense, but what I want my actual days to feel like. Quiet mornings. Unhurried walks. The freedom to write or rest without guilt. When I line up my spending with those things, I feel less scattered.
- Instead of tracking every dollar, I’m just paying closer attention. I’ve canceled a few subscriptions, I’m eating out less, and I’m not clicking “buy” just because something’s on sale. When I declutter, it’s not a big project—it’s more like, “Oh, I don’t use this. Time to let it go.”
- Mindful consumption has become a small but powerful practice. I pause before I purchase. Not always, but often enough to make a difference. I ask myself, “Will this really add to my life?” Sometimes the answer is yes. Often, it’s no.
- I’ve started building a bit of financial cushion. Nothing flashy—just slow, steady saving and choosing lower-risk options. It’s not about becoming financially “free.” It’s about having room to breathe.
I wouldn’t say that everyone should take a vow of simplicity. Perhaps not everyone is called to do this. I think it’s right for me for the long haul. But don’t ask me what I would do if I won the Powerball lottery tomorrow! Having a lot of money brings curses, not just blessings—but the temptations can be very difficult to avoid.
But frugality for frugality’s sake isn’t the point. I don’t need boasting rights about how many times I reuse a tea bag. I want to live closer to what matters—to the rhythm of life itself. Less striving, more noticing.
It’s not always easy. But it’s something. And for now, it’s not only enough, it’s essential.
