Author: Sarah K Peck

Cultivate an Attitude of Gratitude.

Okay, so I’m relatively new to the blogging world. Forgive me, but I didn’t know who Leo Babauta was until about 4 months ago, and I didn’t read blogs regularly.  Previously, I was too focused on being a graduate student and trying not to be miserable while studying/doing/thinking about landscape architecture 100% of the time.

Difficulty reveals who you really are.

When it’s hard, you learn who you really are. Difficulty reveals character. Difficulty shows you what you are passionate about – and lights a fire under your skin to go after what you really want.

We learn from the tough times, from the trenches, from the down-trodden, life-is-the-pits moments.  When you start thinking, “I don’t want this,” and you learn what works and you strive for something else. More often than not, we learn when it’s HARD.

Giving up things – and giving away Stuff – is hard. I have had the hardest time cleaning out my bookshelves and throwing or giving my Stuff away.  I’m nowhere near minimalist (although more and more I dream of it). On the blog zen habits, Leo Babauta talks about the slow process that is de-cluttering and simplifying your life.

“Simplicity. It is a lovely ancient spiritual tradition that has seen a recent resurgence in popularity.  As we try to make sense of our erratic economy and the accompanying financial anxiety, it is natural to leap to a less risky lifestyle extreme — stop spending, scale back, live lean.

But let’s be real here. In spite of embracing the concept of simplicity, most people really love their stuff, and they love acquiring more stuff. Like our attitudes about a healthy diet, our feelings about material things are complicated. We know what’s good for us, but we just don’t want to give up what we like. Our stuff makes us feel good.”

Living with less means choosing, often choosing between two things that are both great and important. I find that an incredibly apt metaphor for life. It’s not “can we have everything,” but, “what is the most important thing that I want?” Life, money, happiness, balance, goal setting – it all relates to this concept. What is first? What is most important? What are the few things that you cannot live without, because they are what your life is about?

Sometimes it gets hard – making these decisions, sticking through the tough times, and saying no to things even when they are tempting.  In each case, you get to learn through the experiences and the lessons that it teaches. In these tougher times – those hard moments – it will reveals who you really are.

Smile and be courageous.

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Lessons from Less started as a small sigh and a simple project experimenting with the ideas of Yes + No, More + Less.  To read the entire list, check out the category Lessons from Less.

Like what you read here? My marathon week of writing every day is about to come to a close (as I head back to work), but my goal for 2011 is to write at least 2 posts per week.  If you’d like to stay in touch, feel free to send me an email. You can also find me on twitter, like this on facebook or subscribe to new posts.

Yoga class. A practice in relaxing, in breathing, in being in the present.

And yet, I find I’m doing it again – yes, I’m guilty! Do you ever compare yourself to the person next to you? It seems there will always be a better yogi. The teacher gently reminds the class that we’re all perfectly fine at this exact moment in time, in this place in space. We embrace our bodies as they are, and we reach for change slowly, surely, in our own realms.

Comparisons are awful, for two reasons. First: perhaps you compare yourself to someone greater than you. There will always be a better yogi.  I Sigh. I can’t reach or bend as far as the next guy. Comparing to someone greater or better than you – and judging yourself for it afterwards – leaves you feeling deflated, uninspired, or depressed.

The opposite type of comparison is equally terrible. Perhaps you’re a bit better in yoga, and you reach farther and bend “better,” and you fluff out your chest a bit in self-appreciation. Your comparison – and your self worth – is directly related to the people around you.

How good or bad you are relative to other people doesn’t matter. What matters is you, in your body, in your space.  Your mind, your contribution. YOU.

Are you judging yourself?

Comparing yourself to others?

Or worse: comparing yourself to what you think you ought to be?

Comparisons are ruthless. Comparisons NEVER. END. You can get lost in the ether that is the internet, finding people who have similar ideas, stories, goals, beliefs, products as you. (Sometimes this is great – I’ve met some of the smartest, funniest, and most interesting people online, because blogging lends itself to the creation of communities of like-minded people.)

At the same time, there’s always the possibility for comparisons. Comparing twitter counts, or followers, looking at status updates, and friends online, finding other people who’ve done more or better than you.

For the most part, there will almost always be somebody better and brighter or more talented than you. And you can always find counter examples.

It doesn’t matter.

Comparisons are ruthless. If you spend your time comparing yourself to someone or something else, you will inevitably find a difference. And with that difference comes judgment.

Stop judging.

One of the most powerful forces in our consumer culture is to look at the possessions around us and crave more. More of this, more of that. Want, want, want. Comparisons drive wants, needs, and desires.

Be content with what you have. Practice living with less. Give away stuff instead of accumulating stuff.

Lesson from Less #6. Comparisons are ruthless.

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Lessons from Less started as a small sigh and a simple project experimenting with the ideas of Yes + No, More + Less.  To read the entire list, check out the category Lessons from Less.

The most paralyzing word in our language is “Later.”

Later.

Later means “not now.”

Unfortunately, later means, possibly never at all.

Start small. But more importantly, start now.  Even if it’s the smallest, tiniest effort – you’ve started.

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When I started doing “lessons from less,” I didn’t start with a big idea in my mind. I was just so tired come Christmas Eve that I decided not to drink any wine with my family that evening. And I got annoyed at being online when I was with my family – so I said to myself (“self”) – why don’t you take a break from facebook and gmail and twitter for a while?

And then I decided to go to bed early. I woke up 10 hours later with a more even breath and decided that morning that I would consciously do a little bit less that day. I couldn’t take another list, chore, or idea.

I talked to my sister for a long time about taking some time off – from my car, from my job, from my life, from the digital world, from writing, from exercise. And then we cultivated a plan. I decided to take a short break from a few things (my car, my online life, and my vices – like TV, alcohol, and candy) in order to make more space for other things that I shouldn’t or can’t necessarily take a break from (my job, my writing, my exercise).

And the plan was put into action. It was a small step, but I gave myself space to take a break.

The next day I sat in a chair on the couch and read nearly the whole day. I took a nap, cooked a roast, spinach and potatoes with my family, and retreated to my non-online computer to write more about “yes and no”.

Lessons and ideas started pouring out.

I began to formalize my committment to yes and no, and to more + less.

I thought about starting on January first – the symbolic nature of a calendar month appealed to me. But I realized I was too tired to wait. And that the philosophy behind the ideas that I was coming across – start small, start simple, give yourself a break, and whatever you do, don’t put it off until later – would be completely at odds with the practice if I delayed my practice another 8 days. And to some extent it was too late – because I had already begun.

More ideas started flowing. I brought my notebook into my bed to capture my ideas and brought it with me on a walk around the neighborhood with my mom.

The more I write, the more I want to write.