be light

It is easy to be heavy; hard to be light.
-G.K. Chesterton

I've loved this quote for many years. It must be my melancholy temperament that draws me to it, I tend to be (to my great consternation) a glass half-empty type of person. I have to consciously decide to think positively and be optimistic.

At different times in my life it has meant different things -- and that's why I keep it near. It captures my inner struggle in a way that resonates.

Mad at my husband? It's hard to forgive.
Too many commitments? It's hard to say no.
Gained a few pounds? It's hard to be disciplined and go to the gym.

(Really hard. Really, REALLY hard. I hate the gym.)

Partly by necessity and partly by choice, the major theme I am working toward in my life right now is simplicity. We're a growing family, crammed into every nook and crevice of this small apartment. We're a single-income family, watching our pennies during the worst economic recession in recent history. We're a fledgling business, working on weekends to make a small dream become reality. There is simply no room for extras, financially or otherwise, and occasionally - it does feel overwhelming.

But when I re-read this quote tonight, I decided to think "light:"

We're crammed, but we're cozy. We are where we are by choice. I'm glad I even had a choice. We're watching pennies, but only because we've financially prepared for this. Watching pennies allows me the privilege to stay home with Isaac. Given a choice, I wouldn't trade it for an extra paycheck. We're working hard for what seems like little reward, but it is immensely fulfilling in a different way. Being able to build something together with my husband is truly exciting.

It isn't enough to just be positive and have an optimistic outlook. I think the lightest hearts are the ones that actively seek contentment and gratitude.

[Photo by my super-talented husband, taken April 2006]

remembering simple things

Numbers and spreadsheets and contracts and lists, oh my! My husband's part-time freelance photography work (for which I handle the business side of things) is currently on the upswing - and while it is mostly fun and exciting, it can also be quite time-consuming and a bit tedious.

So tonight, since I can't seem to pull myself away from the computer long enough to actually go and do something relaxing, I 'virtually' refreshed myself by thinking about those lovely days we spent up north last year. The endless cups of chamomile tea by the lazy fire, those melt-in-your-mouth pirouline wafers, that colorful tangle of embroidery thread...

Take time to document -- in words or pictures or both -- the small, simple things of your life. You will return to them, eagerly, again and again.

(Photos by me, taken October 2008)

on simplicity: beginnings

Four years ago, I was fresh out of college, living in a small one-bedroom apartment with my brand-new husband and struggling with the nagging feeling that somehow - life wasn't as it should be.

Or, at least, it wasn't what I thought life should be.

Those early years were a humbling time. Not only was I dealing with the inevitable growing pains of a very green and fledgling marriage, but I was constantly followed by thoughts of what I was lacking or what had to do without. I'd lament the fact that I was stuck living in a rented apartment while everyone around me purchased a home of their own. I'd wonder why things were tough financially for us even though we both had good, stable jobs.

Looking back, all I can say is - thank goodness for the benefit of time and maturity!

As our marriage grew stronger and the early kinks of domestic life worked themselves out, I found myself appreciating my husband more, which in turn made me appreciate our life together more. Instead of being discontent with my circumstances, I came to love our mismatched collection of hand-me down furniture mixed with stuff we were able to buy for ourselves. Instead of wishing for a large house, I found myself savoring the cozy intimacy of our small space.

I didn't know it at the time, but that attitude of gratefulness and contentment sowed the seeds of simplicity in my life.

Next: Less really IS more.

on simplicity

One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach. One can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few.

-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Life is BIG right now. BIG and SCARY and EXCITING and worthy of words written in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS.

I find myself easily overwhelmed these days. So, I thought it would be good for me (and maybe you'll enjoy it, too) to reflect on simplicity and how it has a emerged as a major theme in my life these past couple of years. The upcoming series of posts will be about why simplicity is so important to me, how it has changed my perspective on nearly everything, and practical ways I've incorporated it into my everyday life.

Check back soon.

(Picture is of me gathering shells on the Jersey shore earlier this year.)

hello, self.

You never know what treasures you'll find while rooting through the deep, dark recesses of your desk at work. While searching for a red pen, I glimpsed a beat-up yellow post-it note tucked underneath a box of paper clips.

On it, hastily scrawled in my handwriting, was written this:

less is more

quality over quantity

slow-life

small spaces

use less, consume less

freedom in simplicity

I remember jotting these down -- what was it? A year ago? Maybe even two. Time gets a little fuzzy between the four walls of my office. I don't know how the note ended up in the drawer or even what compelled me to write those thoughts down in the first place.

But I do know that I was meant to rediscover them today. My thoughts returned to me, gift-wrapped in dust and crumbs, lifting my spirits and giving me a renewed sense of confidence and purpose in the many difficult decisions that he and I have had to make lately.

We all need that little boost every once in a while.