Simplicity and Solitude
We ascribe beauty to that which is simple; which has no superfluous parts; which exactly answers its end; which stands related to all things; which is the mean of many extremes.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Simplicity has become a central principle in my life. And it’s something I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about. Initially, my interest in simplicity was sparked by the minimalist lifestyle movement, the central premise of which is to reduce your belongings to only the essentials to pursue the things that matter. The promise of this voluntary simplicity is the sense of peace, clarity and focus that it offers amidst the chaos of life.
This isn’t a new idea. Many of history’s greatest thinkers have embraced these principles. Many philosophers, poets, monks and writers alike have all realised the value of living a life of simplicity. Henry David Thoreau—the American essayist, poet and philosopher—highlights for me the value of choosing to live simply. In Walden, a book about Thoreau’s experiments in simple living at Walden pond, he writes:
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
The real value in choosing to live simply may go beyond just pursuing the things that matter, insofar as it allows us to see clearly the things that do matter. For me, that has come to resemble a quiet life of creativity, contemplation and deep inquiry.
My desire to cultivate this kind of life has often led me to look to those who take unconventional approaches to life. Minimalists, tiny home dwellers, van-lifers and digital nomads are among those I look to for inspiration. And one of the most inspirational people I’ve come across would have to be a woman named Diana.
I was first introduced to Diana’s way of life through the work of Kirsten Dirksen, a documentarian of unconventional, and often very simple, living spaces. Kirsten’s video capturing Diana’s living space made a deep and lasting impression on me and I often find myself yearning for the quiet contemplative life that Diana advocates.
For 10 years, Diana lived in a small home she refers to as Innermost House. The home is twelve square feet, and without electricity, it’s illuminated only by the glow of candles and an open fireplace. The interior is characterised by dark timber and white plastered walls. The crackling fireplace provides a central focus to the living space, but the real centrepiece in my mind is a bookshelf, filled with beautiful leather-bound classics, all of which I imagine to have been carefully curated. What has stuck in my mind is Dianna’s response to the question of why she went to innermost house so many years ago, she says, and I borrow Kirsten’s narration here:
She was looking for emptiness. But over time that has changed, now she is here, like her husband, in search for completeness. Diana calls her quest the conversation, she writes “what is the conversation? it is what found me, it’s the marriage between the moving word and the waiting silence. It’s waking into the silent emptiness before dawn and feeling a question form within you that only reason can answer. It’s listening for the soft sound of the woods and the murmur of the spirit over the waters. It’s forever the first morning again and again
The scene that follows Kirsten’s narration offers a glimpse of Dianna’s contemplative practice, showing her sitting in a quiet corner study, surrounded by more leather-bound books and a comforting absence of modern technology. She writes neatly on a single sheet of white paper with books sat open around her, a kind of intellectual life that intrigues me, one so far removed from my own.
Escaping to a cabin in the woods can often seem easier and more romantic than trying to untangle ourselves from the demands of modern life; the constant streams of information from other minds; the need to keep up with the latest news, trends and gadgets; the decision fatigue that comes with our personal and professional lives, these things can often distract and overwhelm. Simplicity is not just about reducing our belongings, ultimately it is about reducing our attachments. By doing so we can create the necessary space for clarity of mind, creativity, and reflection—so we might begin to question the world around us and come to see clearly those things that do matter.
