The Understanding—that less creates more
I have a craving to discover that less really is more. I want to sleep beneath the stars and breathe in the desert air, finding space not only with each expansion of my lungs but also between my thoughts.
I crave the ability to slow the f*ck down and give pause to what is constantly on fast forward. That’s when I feel like I can finally breathe into my truest self—when I can slow down enough to be instead of do.
I walked out of an acupuncture appointment last month, literally feeling the shift in my nervous system after doing absolutely nothing for 75 uninterrupted minutes. To not have to think about what’s next.
Later, I found myself romanticizing the idea of sitting at the laundromat with a book in hand and not a phone in sight. Just the sheer pleasure of being forced to sit and not do anything. Wholeheartedly. Unencumbered by the weight of realizing that yesterday has already become today, and today is already tomorrow.
I think the feeling of simplicity is what I’m craving.
Being able to wash laundry in the sun, with two hands that are capable and not occupied with a device. Not waiting for the next Outlook notification. Having the patience to let the sun dry my clothes before it bleaches the colour slightly, leaving behind a quiet trace of the moment. A moment spent doing nothing except existing—existing amongst rays of sun that warm my skin and cotton candy-coloured clouds that shapeshift overhead.
I’m coming to understand that the less I have, the less I accumulate, the less I hold on to, the more abundant I feel. The more room there is for clarity, creativity, and peace.
If you know me, you probably know I have a longing to live slowly in the Baja desert, living with the sun on my skin, and without any sense of urgency. This is where I’ve spent much of my time, slowing down and rediscovering myself at Yandara Yoga Institute. This is also where I’ve had many moments of revelation about how busy we are as a society and how often I get caught up in it without even realizing it. I’ve become so lost in my work that I’ve let my own passions and interests fall to the wayside. I don’t nurture my friendships and relationships nearly as much as I’d like to, and most of all, I’ve stopped learning and aspiring to something greater (*keyword being greater, not more, in this case).
While in Baja, I started making jewelry out of the shells and rocks I found on the beach. I learned how to play the ukulele and weave together lyrics from whatever was on my mind at the moment. I was consistently moving my body because I found joy in doing so, not because I felt obligated to. So why is it so hard to find that here, where I am now? In a place where schedules fill faster than silence, and productivity is praised louder than presence.. I find myself returning to this thought again and again, and often the answer that quietly echoes back is to do less, and let simplicity enhance what matters most—connection, creativity, and the kind of joy that asks nothing in return.
On that note, I’ll leave this reflection here—airing out like a shirt on the line, warmed by the sun, left just long enough to soften and breathe. The cotton, warm to the touch and scented with salt and sun, reminding me there’s still time to return to what matters.