Reposting from Zen Habits

Apologies again for the drought in posting. Striving to live simply is an ongoing battle, and this summer that has especially been true in terms of commitments. Working two jobs and seeing friends is a great thing but it does consume a good deal of time!

I just wanted to call to your attention this excellent guest post on my favorite simple living site, Zen Habits: How to Simplify When You Love Your Stuff. It aligns very nicely with my philosophy on purging vs purchasing items: if you have space and it adds to your happiness or helps you to follow your passions, then that's okay. The point of simplifying is to have more space in your life for the things you love, not to remove the things you love from your life. The link to the full article is here; excerpted below (all credit to the author).

Living simply and detaching from material things will make you happier. There is real research and lots of anecdotal evidence to support the truth of this. But is it possible that some material things can add to our happiness, sense of contentment and joy in life? If so, how do you go about deciding what’s good stuff and what’s bad?

Perhaps the deciding factor is motivation. Do the things that you own or wish to buy support your ego, or do they enliven your soul? Some material things can afford you a sense of warmth, coziness, beauty, fond memories, or comfort. There are other things that offer only that fleeting rush of acquisition.

The Rain, Walking, and Other Musings

3 June 2010

It rained today.

Not the kind of gentle drizzle that lasts all day, nor the sudden skies-opened-up downpour that you know will last no more than five or ten minutes...nor still the off-and-on sun showers that serve only to confuse and tease you. No, this was the kind of storm that starts quietly and builds...the kind that you can watch as it grows, if you are fortunate, into a full-on thunderstorm that lasts for an hour or two.

I watched it build initially from my office window around 4:30. I watched the clouds roll in and turn a day that had been bright and sunny from the moment I woke up into a gloomy twilight. I say "gloomy" there-- it evokes an accurate image, to be sure, but when I left the office and headed into the open air, I did not feel an atmosphere of gloom at all.

The initial stage of my commute home is a 20-minute walk across the Francis Scott Key Bridge, which crosses the Potomac River and the C&O Canal, and then takes me through part of Georgetown's semi-famous M Street shopping district. Though part of me had hoped that the rain would hold off until I reached my bus stop, the drizzle was just beginning as I walked out the door of my building. I briefly contemplated altering my route so I would be inside on some mode of public transportation, but quickly decided against it and proceeded on my way.

I relate easily to this quote from Henry David Thoreau's essay "Walking":

"I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least-- and it is commonly more than that-- sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. You may safely say, A penny for your thoughts, or a thousand pounds. When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them-- as if the legs were meant to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon-- I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago."

You see, my job keeps me inside pretty much all day staring at a computer screen. It's not a bad gig overall, but I find it hard to be so sedentary-- which is rather strange actually, since I don't lead an incredibly active lifestyle to begin with. I find it hard to be trapped, so I have grown to relish my morning and evening commutes, particularly the walking component. And I have walked it-- and will walk it-- in virtually all types of weather short of a hurricane.

I don't find walking in the rain to be such a bad thing. Personally my main concerns are for the books, notebooks, and technology that I inevitably carry in my backpack; I could care less about what I'm wearing, although after a certain amount of drenching a dry pair of pants and socks become a highly appealing prospect. I have been caught in enough downpours to always carry an umbrella in my bag, even if it's sunny out, so I generally feel free to take it out and saunter along in bad weather, largely unconcerned with the precipitation around me.

I fell into a state of near-total bliss walking along this afternoon in the rain. As the world rushed by around me-- pedestrians running for cover, cars plowing through puddles and getting mired in traffic-- I strolled along, unhurried, looking down at the water below and absorbing the water falling from above.

Once I crossed into Georgetown-- at 5:00pm, normally a beehive of pedestrian activity, mainly tourists shopping-- I was somewhat startled to find that the sidewalks were as clear as though M Street had shut down (though the normal traffic snarl continued). My fellow walkers-- perhaps more ill prepared than I, or perhaps simply more sane-- had run for the nearest store, restaurant, or overhang to wait out the weather. I can't say that I blame them; at this point the rain was falling more heavily and thunder had started to rumble in the distance as the storm really moved in.

It's amazing how getting caught in a downpour can make some people friendlier. People see you in a similar boat and they are more inclined to smile and make conversation, if only briefly. It's a short respite from the usual bubbles that DC residents find themselves in for most of their lives.

The storm lasted about an hour. As I sit here drafting this post in a Starbucks near my home, sporadically nursing a hot chocolate, the rain is starting to slow. Knowing the weather here, in an hour or so it'll be sunny again, hopefully turning into a pleasant and mild evening. I have every reason to expect that it will be so.

The nature of DC in the summer is such that thunderstorms are virtually guaranteed at least every couple of days. They are necessary to cool the air and break the humidity, if only temporarily. Nature needs a respite; so too do we humans. Many of us dread getting caught in a downpour, but what I have grown to realize is that, looked at in the proper way, the rain can be a break, a necessary and not unpleasant interruption that reminds us to really be aware of our surroundings. I didn't have my iPod on while I was walking in the rain-- in part because I didn't want it to get wet but also because it meant I was more aware of my surroundings. Perhaps this is an overly poetic way to look at a drenching, but the opportunity to really be present in life and in the world around you is one that I admit I rarely take advantage of, so I was glad for this experience.

The Age of (Dis)Connection

Certainly I am not the only blogger to note, with some degree of consternation, the increasing level of disconnect in our society. This was especially well demonstrated last week here in Washington, DC, where a man was found dead on a Metro train about five hours after he died, after the train had gone out of commission and was in the rail yard. As Petula Dvorak pointed out in her recent column in the Washington Post, no doubt hundreds of people passed him on the train without bothering to notice if he was still breathing, or report something amiss if they did note it. After all, train sleepers are common; why should we wake them?

As someone who rides the Metro or the bus on an almost daily basis, I often fall victim to this phenomenon myself. Though I seldom sleep, being a little paranoid about missing my stop, I am one of many riders who gets on public transportation and, despite being surrounded by people, falls into my own little world. Truth be told it's one of the things I like best about my commute-- the chance to be quietly inside my own head with little disturbance from other people-- but it does raise an interesting question: what human interaction do I sacrifice by spending my commute time in virtual isolation?

It really is *virtual* isolation, too. The people are there-- right next to me, behind me, in front of me-- sometimes too close for comfort (who among us who travels on public transportation has not been in a position where they are crammed together like sardines?). It would be all too easy to communicate and build connections. But instead of being present where we are and reaching out to the people around us, we retreat into our technology. Some people still use older models of "technology," it's true-- you actually do still see quite a few people perusing books and magazines-- but most have headphones in their ears connected to their iPod, or are cruising the Internet on their Blackberry or iPhone, or are immersed in their Kindle. I've even seen some people on the Metro with their laptops out.

Really? Listening to music I can kind of justify (granted, that's largely because I do it), but laptops and Blackberries? We really can't disconnect from work long enough to get home or to the office without needing to pull out our electronic devices to look at one more thing? It goes almost without saying-- clearly we are in an era that is simultaneously the most connected and disconnected in history. That means that we can't get away from work or any other part of our digital lives, and most of the time we don't even want to. Technology is our security blanket that helps us to filter the world down to where we really only let in what we want to. We'll communicate with our friends with various modes of technology and eventually find them in person, but the rest of the world? That's a scary place-- we've got to keep them out.

Leo posted a great piece over at mnmlist.com the other day on "the beauty of a digital vacation," his day off from nearly all technology. I like to take them too every once in a while, although I call them a "digital Sabbath." I feel like I don't take them as often as I should, but it can be great to disconnect from technology and embrace the rest of the world as it comes, just being present where you are. Who knows? If more people took out their headphones and just looked around on the Metro, maybe something could have been done to help Rickey Van Hauten last week. If nothing else, maybe somebody would have noticed that he wasn't breathing before he was discovered in the rail yard.

The Ups and Downs of Google

Full disclosure up front: I'm a huge fan of Google. I have used, to one degree or another, Gmail, Gchat, Google Docs, Google Maps, Google Calendar, Google Reader, Google Scholar, Google Chrome, and Picasa...and that's aside from the core search engine. I haven't tried a Google-enabled phone, but that is due to my resistance to "smart" phones (more on that another time). And if I had to pick a technology company to take over running the world, and the only choices were Apple and Google, at this point Google would win hands down. All that being said, I will readily admit that like any other technology, Google can both benefit and hurt efforts to simplify.

The benefits are, perhaps, the most obvious. Google creates very smart technology that can be tremendously useful as you attempt to streamline your life. Want a baseline of zero in your email inbox? Gmail's huge memory and "archive" and easy search features ensures that you can remove every message from your main inbox without losing them. Want a more streamlined web browsing experience, without the need for tons of add-ons? Google Chrome offers the capacity to search the web from your URL address box. Enjoy reading tons of news sources and blogs every day? Why click around to all your favorites when you can compile them in Google Reader and view them all in one place? ...You get the point. If you want to streamline much of your computing experience, Google has a lot of technology that can help.

...Or does it? By making condensing and streamlining so easy, Google has also created enormous temptations that work against simplicity. You will almost never need to delete an email because Gmail provides such a large memory for storage (don't be fooled-- 'archiving' and 'deleting' are not the same thing). The ease of skimming in Google Reader means that it is incredibly tempting to just keep adding more and more RSS Feeds. Gchat is a good IM program that will run in your email window as well as on your desktop, but that just makes it distracting in more places...especially the AIM syncing capabilities of the email window. If Google Calendar works well for you as an organizing tool with its ability to send you reminders on your computer and mobile device, mightn't that just give you more motivation to add more events to your life?

Bottom line: Like just about anything else, Google programs are best used in moderation. It is important to find the median where Google is helping you to streamline your life without overly complicating it. Remember to delete those truly unnecessary emails from time to time. Let the blank spaces on your Google Calendar remain blank. Sign out of Gchat and talk to the people around you. Pare down to just the core feeds you love on Google Reader so you aren't overwhelmed, and limit yourself to actually reading no more than a few articles at a time. Google programs can be a tremendous aid to simplification and organization, but only if used appropriately for that purpose, rather than becoming yet another distraction.

We Are Sharks: Lessons from "Up in the Air," Part II

Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is a loner. Oh, sure, he enjoys the sporadic company of other people and rarely lacks someone to talk to, but he avoids any kind of extended attachment. He has more or less alienated his family, and is unmarried and decidedly transient. And naturally, like many commitment-phobes all over the world, he has rationalized this fear/life choice into a coherent philosophy:

Now I want you to fill it with people. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the office... and then you move into the people you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your brothers, your sisters, your children, your parents and finally your husband, your wife, your boyfriend, your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack, feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake your relationships are the heaviest components in your life. All those negotiations and arguments and secrets, the compromises. The slower we move the faster we die. Make no mistake, moving is living. Some animals were meant to carry each other to live symbiotically over a lifetime. Star crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not swans. We are sharks.

It may surprise some of you when I say that I think he is right. Relationships are the heaviest part of our lives. They are demanding of our attention and resources and they can be very severe stressors. They may wish to prevent you from doing whatever you want to, or they may do this totally without intending to, because you deliberately factor in your relationship with this person or these people when you're making a decision. I can certainly verify from personal experience that this is true. I've made the decision to spend this coming summer in DC, but it wasn't done without giving some considerable and agonizing thought for what I would lose in time with my family and with my friends at home.

Does the weight of the relationships on our lives really make them a bad thing, though, as Ryan implies during his talk in the movie? There are arguments either way, I suppose-- Ryan makes a cogent argument above for why they are a problem. And certainly if you want to live a life like his, traveling almost nonstop, they would be a huge issue. I have to wonder if it would even be possible-- much less desirable-- to have a family and maintain that lifestyle. Probably not.

But for the rest of us, who are a little more anchored down in our lives, I would submit that in this talk, Ryan is wrong to suggest that relationships are inherently bad. On the contrary, relationships of any variety are the only thing that are really worth putting that much effort into. Done right, they can last a lifetime, and the security of knowing someone is there for you no matter what is worth the risks inherent in opening your heart to them. [Although my personal caveat to that is that you should be careful who you really trust, because not everyone deserves something that important.]

In college, balancing relationships and work can be just as tricky as juggling them in the work world. At my university, there are so many things to do-- part-time jobs, internships, homework, clubs-- that making time to build relationships can be hard. Personally, although I do work hard on academic stuff, I try to keep my priorities on the people around me, where I think they really belong. When work really needs to get done, it's going to get done, but it can be well worth it to spend a couple of hours talking to a friend and then stay up writing until 3am. As Tom Petty said, the work never ends, but college does. I've got a little over a year left myself, and some of my closest friends are leaving at the end of this year. I plan to enjoy every second with them that I can, because, as Ryan admits later in the movie, "Life's better with company."

Moving is Living: Lessons from "Up in the Air," Part I

Full disclosure up front: "Up in the Air" was my pick for the Best Picture at the Academy Awards tonight. I am aware that it didn't win, but it was my favorite of all the nominated movies that I've seen. (Oh, don't even get me started on "Avatar"...see my other blog for that)

For those who don't know, "Up in the Air" is the story of traveling businessman Ryan Bingham (played brilliantly by George Clooney). Ryan travels all over the US firing people for bosses who don't have the guts to do it themselves. He's happy with his itinerant lifestyle, which affords him considerable freedom, until he meets two women who slowly begin to make him wonder about the true richness that his life offers. I won't give away anything-- just see the movie.

In addition to his job firing people, Ryan brings in money by doing motivational speaking engagements around the country. His main shtick is called, "What's In Your Backpack?" and we see it on several occasions. In the first part, he discusses how much stuff weighs us down, and in the second he discusses how much people weigh us down. In this post and the next one, I'd like to offer my thoughts on what Ryan has to say about these topics.

Here's the first half of his talk:

How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life... you start with the little things. The shelves, the drawers, the knickknacks, then you start adding larger stuff. Clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, your TV... the backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. You go bigger. Your couch, your car, your home... I want you to stuff it all into that backpack.

To put it briefly, I think Ryan has a point here with all this talk about the stuff in our lives weighing us down. That's why I started on this whole quest for simplicity. I'd been in college for a couple of years, was aware that my life in two places had accumulated a great deal of stuff, and realized that there was less and less room to store all that stuff when it was in one place. So I started to downsize...slowly at first, a couple of unnecessary objects here, a pair of ripped socks there...then huge projects like my drawers of papers. As I have said before, this process is still ongoing-- downsizing 20 years of your life is something that either gets done in a couple of intense weeks or over time. I've opted for the latter.

What I've noticed as I have gradually simplified and decluttered my room at home, though, is that I have enjoyed being in here a lot more as its gotten more spacious and Zen-like. Not to say that I didn't love being in my room before-- it's always been MY space, which I customize to fit my preferences and manage to simply be myself.

Before I started downsizing, though, I was starting to feel that my space was too crowded for me to enjoy. As Ryan implies, having a lot of stuff weighs you down. So while I do not especially advocate his rather extreme perspective on the matter-- "light it all on fire"-- I can readily verify the idea that decluttering can have the general effect of lightening you: providing a more peaceful atmosphere, loosening the mental stranglehold we have on our possessions, refocusing on the things that really matter most.

Digital Purge

Part of the reason I started this blog was to have a place where I could write about my pursuit of an uncluttered life. I started out with my bedroom feeling so crowded with "stuff" that I wasn't really getting to enjoy any of it. So last summer I did a major purge of old papers, clothes, and random acquired objects, as well as doing my annual clean-out and re-shelve of my books. Over my winter break I cleared out old CDs and more random acquired objects. And I gotta say, this process of simplifying feels great. I feel like almost all of the objects I now have in my room (at home; the dorm room is a whole separate beast) have a purpose for being there; they are all things that provide pleasure or some other utility.

However, I realized that I haven't written much about purging digital clutter. In today's highly technological age, it's just as easy to find your computer crammed with unnecessary documents and programs as it is to find a Dunkin' Donuts in New England (for non-New Englanders, pick a business in your area that's on every street corner). Technological data is pervasive.

In some regards, that's terribly convenient for aspiring "unclutterers" like myself-- digitizing data and even memories is an effective way to ditch physical clutter (like my efforts to reduce my CD collection by moving the ones that I want to keep onto my computer in mp3 format). However, all that being said, collecting too much stuff in digital format is also qualifies as clutter.

Oh sure, it may be way less noticeable-- after all, it's still on your hard drive, and even if you have an external drive you probably still only have three physical objects. But have you ever tried to find a particular document that you needed, only to have it take upwards of half an hour because you got bogged down while looking? Or looked for an email but-- even with the help of Gmail's wonderful search capabilities-- gotten lost in the maelstrom that is your inbox?

Don't worry about it-- you're in good company here. My computer's hard drive is incredibly full, and I hardly know where to begin cleaning it out. Last summer I went through my "My Documents" folder and organized everything, deleting the things that were obviously no longer necessary and arranging the remaining documents by topic. That made a big difference in my ability to locate these items. I've also made some strides toward simplifying my email inbox, getting it down to a "baseline-zero" level (more on that later), unsubscribing from most newsletters, and deleting some old and totally unnecessary emails.

However, there's still a long way to go. I expect I will write again soon on the downside of Google and more topics related to technological simplification. In the meantime, let me just leave off on the idea that technological simplification can be just as psychologically rewarding as physical simplification. Same basic principle-- everything's easier to find, and it leaves more space for what you truly enjoy.