The Joy of Less

by Amy Newmark

  When I started at university, I figured that the same rules would apply. I had a locker on campus, and I jammed it full of all of the extras I could think of. I had a large leather rucksack that I carried from class to class, filled with books and food. After all, I didn’t want to be caught off guard if I found myself in one class with free time to work on homework from another, right?

  Before long my back started to hurt constantly, and I wasn’t enjoying much of anything, because I was too busy and tired from trying to haul that huge bag around. By the time the summer rolled around, I was fed up and ready for a change. There was nothing to be gained by being in physical pain all the time. After all, what was I accomplishing by carrying extra notebooks and pens when everyone else made do with one small bag with the essentials? I was missing out on all sorts of social events because I was in pain and exhausted all the time. Enough was enough. When second year started, I deliberately chose a small blue backpack and told myself that — other than textbooks and food — everything would have to fit in this bag. If not, it didn’t get to come with me.

  I absolutely hated it at first. I was outraged that I couldn’t carry half my house in my backpack every day. What if I needed that extra box of staples? What I came to learn, however, was that I could still have everything required, I just had to prioritize: instead of five binders, I had thin folders that were easy to carry and could still fit all of my notes; instead of pencil sharpeners and boxes of pencils, I switched to mechanical ones, and simply kept extra erasers and lead packs in my bag; I had a tiny container full of paper clips and extra staples that fit basically anywhere I needed; I adapted to using a mini stapler that met all of my stapling and de-stapling needs without fail; instead of having an entire box of highlighters, I downsized to carrying one marker of each colour.

  The “one bag rule” has been so successful that today I refuse to go anywhere with more than one bag, be it a weeklong trip or a day at the mall.

  That small blue backpack really helped me make the permanent change to carrying less stuff. It had all sorts of compartments and pockets so that I had everything I needed, but still kept the bulk to a minimum. The change from a ten-pound weight to a three-pound one was fantastic, too.

  As I got used to my new lifestyle, I realized how much calmer I felt. I was more relaxed in class because I didn’t have to worry about digging through my bag and finding that one pen I was looking for. My books and notes were more organized, and there was no worry that I had forgotten something. When it came to heading home, I just had to grab a textbook or two and be on my way. My back no longer felt like it was dying, and I enjoyed heading out with friends after class.

  Transforming from the girl who had six or seven bags, to the “one bag lady” really helped make me into a better person overall. I learned that it didn’t mean having to give up the necessities that made university life possible. I also learned that the whole world wouldn’t fall apart if I didn’t have the extra bottle of Whiteout or the box of tissues.

  There were times, of course, when I didn’t have something that I needed for a fleeting moment. Instead of getting worked up about it, I would be momentarily frustrated and then move on to something else. Having everything in one bag made my life more flexible. I could work on my homework anywhere I wanted and not be inconvenienced by carrying multiple bags. When I felt stifled on campus, I would walk or take the bus downtown and work on assignments in a coffee shop. It became a habit of mine that helped me be much more productive academically and socially, not to mention that I became a coffee expert.

  Developing the “one bag rule” really improved my academic experience overall. I was more confident, easier to talk to, and genuinely enjoyed being a student. I got good grades and made lasting friendships, which were as good as they were because I took the stress and physical discomfort out of student life by simplifying my life.

  The “one bag rule” has been so successful that today I refuse to go anywhere with more than one bag, be it a weeklong trip or a day at the mall. Teaching myself that I didn’t need as much stuff made me stronger, braver, calmer, more adventurous and so much happier. When I compare my miserable high school self with the confident university graduate that I am now, I am incredibly grateful that I finally decided to make the change. That battered blue backpack that I bought in second year is one of my absolute favourite possessions that — even though it’s much too worn to be of use anymore — will always mean a lot to me.

  Getting rid of all of the extra supplies allowed me to really focus on what was important, both academically and emotionally. Even though that small blue bag was half the size of the old one, it really held so much more — it held the key to the new me.

  ~Kelti Goudie

  The Small Simplicity Challenge that Changed My Life

  The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.

  ~Hans Hofmann

  It was only the first week into a sparkling new year, and I was already feeling stuck. My life felt overwhelming and chaotic, rushing by in a flurry of social media and distractions and constant “busyness.” I was desperate to slow it down. To savor it. I wanted my days to be made up of beautiful moments, not long to-do lists. I wanted to be more present — to be aware of, and grateful for, every minute of my unique and amazing life.

  Serendipitously, I stumbled across a TEDx talk by The Minimalists about authenticity and simplicity: paring down your life in order to make space for what truly matters to you. Something lit up in my soul. Simplicity. Time. Space. Room to breathe, and learn, and grow, and simply be.

  I decided to set a challenge for myself. Little by little, over the course of the year, I would simplify my life. I would rid myself of clutter — physical, mental, emotional. I would reflect on what was most important to me, and why, and what I aimed to do with that knowledge. I hoped that by the end of the year, I would be less stressed, more present, and altogether happier in my simpler life.

  My first step was to identify a few items that I tended to over-purchase: tea, stationery, and scarves. I pledged to purchase no more of these items for the entire year (or until I used up the embarrassingly large stash that I already possessed). After signing the self-pledge, I was a little surprised at my impulse to continue purchasing these items, even during the first week! Especially tea. I tended to visit the tea aisle whenever I went to the grocery store, just to see if they had any new flavors or good sales. So, I made a conscious choice not to even walk down the tea aisle. Same with stationery. I refrained from browsing greeting card displays. Instead, I used notecards I’d purchased the year before for all my holiday thank-you notes. A little thing, but progress!

  In the weeks and months that followed, I slowly sorted through my clothes, shoes, purses — and, yes, scarves — and donated three full bags to charity. In the past, I might have been tempted to go out shopping to refill the empty spaces in my closet with brand new items, but not this time. I actually had space to slide hangers back and forth and didn’t have to cram T-shirts into my dresser drawers in order to wedge them shut. I could easily see every item in my closet — and, for the first time in my life, I absolutely loved every single item I owned. Getting dressed each morning became a breeze.

  Motivated to continue my momentum, I donated boxes of books and magazines to my local library and ended my subscriptions to a couple of magazines. I cleared out my filing cabinets of old receipts and organized my haphazard piles of papers into neat, labeled folders. Now I could find whatever I needed easily and quickly.

  Next, I tackled digital clutter. My e-mail inbox was always overflowing, distracting me from important tasks I wanted to complete. I began by unsubscribing to the various promotional e-mails that I always deleted without reading. That was the easy part. The harder part was unsubscribing from lists that I was genuinely interested in, but simply had no time to read. I realized that I had subscribed to these e-mails because I hoped that some mystical future version of me would o
ne day find the time to conscientiously read through them. Instead, the build-up of unread e-mails had been stressing me out. The simple act of unsubscribing from e-mail lists made me feel freer and more at peace.

  This may seem obvious, but I also realized how much less stressful tasks are when you do them in advance of deadlines. I started getting tasks and chores done in advance, which made me feel like I was “on top of things” and boosted my self-confidence. I also worked on squashing that impulse to try to squeeze in “one more thing” before I left the house, which was always making me late. Not only did I feel rushed and stressed about being late, I wanted to change this habit for others, too. Being on time shows respect and consideration for other people’s time and commitments.

  I did figure out one way that I could squeeze in “one more thing” without negative consequences! I started listening to podcasts while driving. I love learning, and had a long list of podcasts I wanted to check out, but I couldn’t seem to find the time to listen to them. I realized I had precious pockets of time that I wasn’t using as opportunities. Twenty minutes in the car here and fifteen minutes in the car there really add up. Now I actually find myself looking forward to my car/podcast time instead of being annoyed by my commute.

  The simple act of unsubscribing from e-mail lists made me feel freer and more at peace.

  When I look back at my life before my “simplicity challenge,” on the outside it appears much the same as it is today. I have the same job, live in the same house, take part in the same outside activities with their responsibilities and commitments. I did not make any drastic or big changes. And yet, on the inside, my life feels completely different. Small changes added up. I have time and space to pursue what I love most. I feel freer, and calmer, and more energetic. It’s funny: only now that I have gotten rid of so much unnecessary stuff, does my life feel truly full.

  ~Dallas Woodburn

  Christmas Without Electricity

  There is a force more powerful than steam and electricity: the will.

  ~Fernán Caballero

  I was at work the day before my long awaited Christmas vacation, ready to enjoy some quality time with my family. We received a large snowfall the previous night, which was very deep, so I had a fun eight-mile ride to work on an ATV (4-wheeler).

  Around lunch my wife called and said, “Honey, we have a problem. The power went off an hour ago, and we are getting cold.” She was alone watching our two children. They were four and six years old. There was more snow in the forecast. I called the utility company to inquire when the electricity would be restored. The receptionist informed me that the electricity could potentially be out for several days, maybe a week.

  During the long ride home, I wondered what I could do to get my family through a week without electricity. Then it hit me. “Call Dad. He will know what to do. Or, even better, he will ask us to stay with him and Mom.” I knew it was a great idea. Arriving home, I called Dad. He lives five miles away, but did not have electricity either. Dad was not sure what they would do. Discouraged, my immediate reaction was, “Well great! Now what? We’re on our own.”

  I located a flashlight, and went to the basement. I was looking for anything to help us during this crisis. I was burrowing through the junk that had collected down there when I remembered some advice from my grandfather: “Boy, don’t worry about what you don’t have. Do the best you can with what you got.”

  I keep things around the house, not like a hoarder, but rather a “Collector of Everything,” like my grandfather. I located a kerosene heater along with thirty gallons of fuel I had stored for an emergency years ago. I looked at my cordless tools and pondered, “How can these help?” I always have batteries charged and ready for use in those hand tools. I discovered a plastic desk fan. I kept digging and uncovered a box of candles and a box of hurricane lamps that I picked up at a yard sale. The small, rusty wheels in my head were spinning. I was not in panic mode any longer. I was in the “I can do this” mode, and I started to feel pretty good about things. The heater worked and so did the lamps. This wasn’t going to be so bad!

  After breakfast, we sat and talked about the “good ole days.” We did not realize we were reliving them.

  I made trips upstairs, like an Olympic sprinter. I carried parts to repair our life. The items were piled on the living room floor. I dug through the mound as a child would on Christmas morning. The kerosene heater started generating a bit of warmth. I placed a lamp in every room. I tore the fan apart and inserted the plastic blade into the cordless drill. I positioned the drill in front of the heater, pointed it down the hallway, and tied the trigger in the on position. Warm air began migrating down the hall into every bedroom. We had a 500-gallon propane tank for the water heater and stove. Neither hot water nor being able to cook was a concern. At least we could use the stovetop. We ate supper, watched the snowfall, and went to bed. Things were slowly getting back to normal.

  I called Dad the next morning, Christmas Eve, to see how he and Mom were doing. He still did not know what they would do. He said, “We were cold last night.” I asked them to come to our house. We were not at full comfort level, but were able to help. They arrived in his Jeep. It was loaded with food, clothes, and presents. He stopped to get my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. Dad said, “The drive was slow, but it was better than freezing at home.” We sat around reminiscing while the kids played games. We had a candlelit supper of hot soup. Everyone enjoyed a warm shower, hugs, and went to bed. I went to sleep thinking, “It was a pleasant day.”

  We awoke Christmas morning to wonderful aromas filling the house; my wife was cooking bacon, eggs, sausage, gravy, country ham, fried potatoes, and pancakes. Biscuits were atop the kerosene heater. The smells reminded me of Christmas morning at Grandma’s house. The scents of hickory smoked bacon, sage sausage, and country ham were creeping through the house, like a slow, London fog. After breakfast, we sat and talked about the “good ole days.” We did not realize we were reliving them. Later that evening, the snow started to melt.

  Around six, as we were opening gifts, the electricity came alive. We left everything alone for an hour, making sure the electricity would stay on. We put the house back to normal and finished opening presents. After several hours of holiday enjoyment, everyone loaded up and went home.

  As I look back on that Christmas, I realize what a great time it was.

  Since then, many changes have occurred. My dad passed away. The children are grown, building their own lives. We have not had much snow during the winter months. Around Christmas season now, I sometimes long for another Christmas without electricity.

  ~Christopher E. Cantrell

  Joyfully Unplugged

  Friends Less

  A friendship that can end never really began.

  ~Publilius Syrus

  Delete. Delete. Delete… Oops! I’d accidentally deleted my mother. I was going to hear about that one! It had taken me a good six months to work up the courage to delete all but six of the nearly one thousand “friends” I had collected on my social media account.

  I was addicted and I didn’t even try to hide it. I carried my social media friends with me everywhere I went via my smarter-than-me cell phone. I took them to work with me, we went grocery shopping together, and all one thousand of them were my “plus one” at a friend’s wedding. They even tucked me into bed with their “goodnight” posts after each long day. They had become my second family, which at first, didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Actually, for a time, it was a very good thing.

  In early 2009 my mother began sending me posts from a social media site. They were sweet, and often funny, stories about my daughter Kyley as told by her friends. Kyley died in December 2008, and these memories being shared by her peers were precious to me. I created an online profile so I could join the group and read them for myself.

  I began receiving friend requests and even sent out more than a few myself. I felt a tinge of excitement whenever someone accepted my invitati
on to connect. I’d always been a pretty private person, but I found myself pouring out my heart to this new body of friends. I shared my heartache over the loss of my child. I shared amazing stories of signs from Heaven. I shared the humor I sometimes used as a way to cope with my pain. I shared the joy that crept back into my heart as I began to heal. I shared it all in very raw, often very long posts on my social media page. I received incredible feedback in the form of “likes” and encouraging comments. I even created an “author” page after eight of those very long posts were converted to story form and published in seven different Chicken Soup for the Soul books.

  For several years my social media page, with all of those “friends,” was a lifeline. It provided a sense of community and kept me connected to the outside world during a period of time when my grief kept me confined to my home. The interaction it allowed was therapeutic and I believe it was instrumental in my healing. That’s why it’s difficult to admit that what had once given me the freedom to connect with others was now the very thing keeping me from feeling truly connected.

  What had once given me the freedom to connect with others was now the very thing keeping me from feeling truly connected.

  It was a gradual process. I’m quite sure I didn’t even realize it was happening… that I was becoming addicted to social media. There were signs, though, plenty of them. My phone was never more than an arm’s length away. I checked my social media accounts several times throughout the day, even at work. I didn’t want to miss an important status update like how one of my friends ordered a hamburger for lunch and she received mustard instead of the requested mayonnaise. And then there was the grocery cart incident…. I’d been checking my social media account for more important breaking “news” when my cart collided with another. I apologized profusely and tried to pretend I hadn’t been looking at my phone. I felt a little better when I noticed the lady I’d crashed into had been doing the same.