This morning, I grabbed my usual cup of coffee (blueberry flavored with flax milk) and my current read (Wilkie Collins’s 1860s thriller, THE WOMAN IN WHITE), and headed out to my still-sparsely decorated balcony. This is how I start my days, with coffee and books and music. Today I cued up opera arias on YouTube and settled in to the English countryside with Collins’s character, “Walter Hartwright, of Clement’s Inn, Teacher of Drawing.”
Listening to the classical music while reading paragraphs like the following sent me into a pleasurable swoon:
“I must have been hard to please, indeed, if I had not approved of the room, and of everything about it. The bow-window looked out on the same lovely view which I had admired, in the morning, from my bedroom. The furniture was the perfection of luxury and beauty: the table in the centre was bright with gaily bound books, elegant conveniences for writing, and beautiful flowers…the walls were hung with gaily tinted chintz, and the floor was spread with Indian matting in maize-colour and red. It was the prettiest and most luxurious little sitting-room I had ever seen; and I admired it with the warmest enthusiasm.”
Note the discrepancy between my actual surroundings–a concrete-floored balcony with one straggly basil plant in a pot and four plain, brown outdoor chairs hubby bought at Big Box Retail while I was still in Maine–and the pretty little sitting room conjured out of words on a page by Mr. Wilkie Collins. Sigh. I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t help but ask myself, why does that description of landed gentry surroundings appeal to me so much when I intend to pursue simplicity and the concept of #enoughalready?
After awhile, I put down the book and began to ponder in earnest the good life and what that truly means for me–not what I wish it meant for me.
Each of us creates our own “ideal” good life. What gives me pleasure and comfort might irritate and discomfort you and vice versa. Not only that, I find I’m often conflicted within myself, wanting at once simplicity and rooms filled with books and art and gorgeous draperies overlooking a lovely view. It’s easier–and less expensive–to be simple. Yet, those objects, romantic and desirable, call to me. How do I resolve this conflict? How can I crave (and have) both at the same time?
Jeff DeGraff, PhD, wrote about complexity and simplicity in a Psychology Today article entitled, Complexity First, Simplicity Last, stating, “When Leonardo da Vinci said, ‘Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication,’ he didn’t mean take a short cut down the path of least resistance, balance your work and personal life or set more attainable goals. What he meant was engage the chaos, look for patterns, make sense of the intricacies and elaborations and adjust and refine ad infinitum. Do the work!”
DeGraff went on to reiterate the concept of embracing complexity. While our world is ever more complex and is often disconcerting, that complexity solves problems for us. He asks us to think about innovations in communication and health. Be uncomfortable within the complexity, he suggests. Then pare away what you don’t need to reach what I’m going to call “the simplicity of the useful.”
This brings to mind that old William Morris chestnut, “If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.”
As a rule, it’s hard to beat. The hardest part is saying “no” or “I’ll think about it” when tempted to buy something–a book, a sweater, a chair, a plant pot, a gizmo. But that’s what I’m doing. I’m training myself to say “no” or “maybe later” first and considering if this object is truly something useful, beautiful, and fits in with my vision of the good life. Of course I fail. We all fail. (Hello graphic novel from the Year of the Rat festival a few weeks ago; I wanted to support the author, but did I really want the book? Nope.) But we do better next time.
The same concept applies to our everyday activities. We are overwhelmed with complexity of choices. Which tv shows to watch. Which movies to see. What gatherings to attend. How many social media platforms on which to engage and for how many minutes a day. What career to pursue. None of these things are “bad.” Having choices isn’t the problem. Learning how to wade through the complexity and choose is the challenge. Learning how to say “no” and “maybe later” is key here, too. Again, we sometimes fail, but that’s okay.
I’m considering making a vision board so that I have a visual reminder of my priorities staring me in the face at the beginning of every day. I’ll be researching the art and craft and psychology of vision boarding over the weekend, but to get us started here is this article from Elizabeth Rider on Huffpost. In the meantime, I’ve changed my goal. I’m no longer pursuing simplicity. I’m practicing refinement.
Doesn’t that word just capture both simplicity and luxury? To live a refined life, not merely a simple one, that is the goal from here on out.
This blog, like my life, is a work in progress! Don’t mind the mess, and have a happy week, my dears.
Are you ever conflicted about your lifestyle choices? Have you ever used a vision board? What are your thoughts on simplicity, luxury, and refinement? If you’d like to share your experiences, please feel free to leave a comment. I comment back!
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