There was a time when I made my life as complex and complicated as possible. It was called youth. Unintentionally inviting all the drama and all the mayhem and thinking that was what made life exciting and rich, I courted chaos and adventure. That’s what most of us do in our 20’s, admitted or not. Looking back, I see how ill-fitting much of it was, but I thought that’s what we were supposed to be doing, and just another way to fill the days (and nights) while waiting for real life to begin.
So it was with gratitude and pride that I listened to my niece Emi describe our home in the following fashion last summer: “You live a simple life.”
Taken out of context and at face value, it might sound like a bit of an insult, but it wasn’t intended that way, and it certainly wasn’t interpreted that way. I knew exactly what she was saying, even without her clarifying that she meant everything seemed to happen very easily and without yelling or commotion or jumping through hoops.
On the surface, she is correct. Compared with other homes (particularly those with children) ours must seem quiet and simple and relatively calm. When we have the twins over, Andy and I have usually cleared our schedule so there is no rushing to or from work, no chaotic scrambling to run errands or get tasks done. There are no chores or homework or school schedules to accommodate. To Emi, it must seem like a simple life, and it was designed to be that way.
That design, however, took decades to fully realize and accomplish, and it was as much about the interior of the soul as it was about the outside manifestation of our home. In my youth, I wanted to have everything instantly set up and organized and settled, which ended up yielding the exact opposite in my frantic and desperate search for a relationship and other stereotypical signifiers of happiness and success. Even after that foolishness subsided, I still sought out drama and excitement, funneling them into my creative projects and public displays of ostentatious delight. That lasted for many years, and yet for all the fun we had my heart was seeking what it had been seeking since I was a child: stillness and quiet and calm.
I’m still not even close to achieving that, and knowing and understanding that the end result is no longer the goal but the process, is actually closer to the happy ending itself. And so when Emi and Noah visit, we seem to lead a simple life because we’ve already gone through the madness and maelstrom of figuring that out. The rest is just play and fun, which leads to its own adventures and excitement, one of those neat tricks of the universe when you finally learn to stop and listen instead of being seen and heard.
