Category: Lessons from Less

Why quitting is perfectly okay.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

10802447_763955216997425_47234659_n

It’s always the same story for me: I start a project, a class, an idea, or a story. I eagerly rush in, align my pencils, lay out my notebooks, and make delirious plans in my calendar. That first day, ideas and dreams pour out of me.

Then four days pass. I waver, tired. My calendar seems oppressive. The new habit loses its stickiness against the watery pulse of time and circumstance.

I lose another day, a week, and slip behind.

Last Spring, I started Hannah Marcotti’s beautiful Spirits of Joy and did ten days of paper crafting, collage making, glue bending. The drawing ignited in me a new set of doodles; the ripped paper and tacky glue nudged the sleepy muse inside of me.

And I ran from the class to my journals, getting lost inside of my own writing project. The crafts lay quietly on my desk for the next three weeks.

I used to beat myself up for not finishing things. Like the fits that “Crazy Eyes” has in Orange is the New Black, I’d cringe and mentally beat myself up each time I found another project laying around the house, paused or half-done.

It was a pattern so familiar, I started to observe it.

What was happening? Why was I quitting?

Life happened.

Things got hard, they got rough: deadlines built up. Real work pulled me in. The need to take a run and take care of my body surfaced. The competing pulls of attention and focus and deadlines wrapped me in their compelling arms.

But something else was happening, too. Ten days of paper-crafting with a beautiful spirit course led me to building an entirely new online program of my own.

Skimming the lessons in a business-building mastermind opened up a new way of creating sales pages. Reading half of a book propelled me into my next project.

And then it hit me: what if I was getting exactly what I needed?

What if I was getting exactly what I needed? These courses and events served as inspiration for my soul, and my soul nudged me when it was time to begin working.

Like a creative coach blowing the whistle, she stood on the sidelines while I soaked in knowledge until they stepped in and said, “Okay, Sarah, go make that thing. You heard the whisper. Now make.”

What if my ego was the only part of me that really cared about finishing?

You don’t have to do everything to get something out of it.

Twelve half-finished books is still reading six full books. (Many books are inflated lengths anyways and should be shorter). Some things are meant to be finished. And some things don’t need to be finished.

You don’t have to finish your meal. (In fact, not finishing might be better for you). Or your art project. Or the class you signed up for after you get exactly what you need out of it.

We think we know what we need in advance.

The more I plan in advance and then later watch my life take shape completely differently than my plans, the more I realize that planning ahead can be a flimsy wish at best.

It gets our foot in the door. We often underestimate how much time things take, or assume we know all the steps we’ll take before we get started.

You can pause. You can wait. You can enjoy the space.

You can quit.

You are allowed to leave things half-finished and undone. You can walk away.

Writers who join my programs always fall down. This is life, it happens: we get sick, we get tired, we have late nights. Instead of beating yourself up, I remind them to build in “life” days.

Want to blog? Make a plan to do it weekly, with a free pass to skip one week a month for when life gets a bit frenetic.

No one said you have to get 100% done and be perfect to enjoy the fruits of your progress. In fact, if you write two essays, that’s more than zero.

Somewhere in the quest for perfect, we forget to acknowledge that something is better than nothing.

An apple is better than no apple. A walk is better than sitting. Sometimes, some days, I say to myself, just walk around the block. Just write a little story. Just make a couple of lists.

And here’s the secret grace: when you let go, you make space to return.

When I feel the pull again, I get that half-finished notebook of Hannah’s off my shelf. I collect magazines and glue, snippets and scraps, words and graphite. I work into the late evening, wine by my side, lost in messy piles.

My book, a 30-day project, might take me 180 days. I may never finish. What I need is not a 30-day check mark of completion, but the grace to return to crafting whenever my soul calls for it.

And what if, instead of a routine, you let yourself come back in?

I always hear new writers tell me stories about giving up after failing to stick to a routine (the same is true for people beginning a new exercise routine).

But what if, instead of betting yourself against a routine, failing, and then quitting — instead you took a breath on the off days and let yourself come back in?

Like writing morning pages to warm up for writing, the little movements are what bring us back in to our greater works. The biggest dreams are sometimes the hardest to start.

It’s hard to feel progress in the tiniest of moments, but it’s not about the goal. We can’t fathom the experience in its entirety. The peak is a representation of the work, a moment.

By letting go of the deadline, the need for perfection, my ego’s need to complete everything I’ve started, I allow myself the space to come back in.

Because it’s always about making.

Come back in.

Come back in. Whenever you want.

Packing light: how we traveled for 3 weeks across Europe (and got on stage!) with only small backpacks.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Packing Light

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s carrying an over-packed wheely suitcase through crowded subways and city streets up four flights of stairs after a long day of traveling.

Between being cramped in an overnight flight across the Atlantic, negotiating the limited quarters of overhead bin space, and standing sleepy-eyed at the baggage claim carousel, I’m shaking my head no, no, no to anything roller-bag related. By the time I’m in my new room, I’m cursing the loads of stuff I brought—and wishing I had packed less.

Somehow it always seems easier in retrospect to leave stuff behind, but I often get stumped at the packing process. When we set off to Europe for our honeymoon in June, I knew I wanted to travel light. The problem? I also had an on-stage keynote, three cities to be in, and at least one or two lakes and oceans to swim in.

Luckily, my history of taking a few plane rides here and there helped me winnow it down, and my packing process is getting more and more seamless. So I thought I’d geek out and put together a complete list of everything we packed on this trip, including some bonus notes on my favorite tricks for traveling light (and traveling in general) at the end. 

Traveling light.

Heading off on our adventure together + a peek inside the closet once unpacked.

Equipment:

  • Two backpacks (see the first photo at the very top for our backpack sizes).
  • My favorite one-shoulder day-pack. This day pack fits inside the main backpack while traveling (I store my liquids and meds inside of it while traveling for easy finding, then repurpose the bag itself for my day bag after we’ve dropped stuff off at our hotel.) This bag is awesome because it’s a cross-body strap and has a double-zipper feature: zip-top closure, and another zippered enclosure inside. I use the inner zipper pocket to carry my passport and dollars, and wear the back with the pack on my front to thwart pick-pocketers. I bought my bag about ten years ago, but similar bags by Overland are the Isabella, Donner, and Auburn.
  • Two small and large foldable zip-bags by MUJI. I LOVE THESE BAGS. Light, airy, and they compress down to nearly nothing. Great for sorting underwear and dirty laundry — we used them as laundry bags throughout our trip.
  • Also — an airline pillow, but we left this behind at the airport for someone else to use as soon as we got to our destination. In the future, I want to get a blow-up pillow of sorts, but for now I don’t mind grabbing a $10 airline pillow in the airport and then donating it to someone at the end of my trip.

HEADER—700-Bags and storage copy

My favorite bags and carrying cases.

The technology pile:

We were two people and we were both working for part of the trip, so we took an 11-inch Macbook Air. I love this size because it fits on airline seats so easily; other laptops are harder to open up fully to use. The downside is the storage space is small and the tiny screen can make it harder to do all the work you want. We experimented with an iPad and keyboard, but some of the computing functions and editing functions (like having to touch the screen each time you wanted to move the cursor) were a little cumbersome. We ended up sharing the MacBook Air for creation and using the ‘Pad for reading and email.

  • 11-inch Macbook Air + power cord.
  • iPad + keyboard case.
  • Headphone splitter — my husband and I like things at different volumes, and this lets you watch a movie together on an airplane. Confession: we might have watched the entire season of Orange is The New Black on our iPad while traveling.
  • 30-way power adaptor with 2 USB plugs. The Tripwell World Travel Adaptor is my favorite international travel plug; it covers almost all countries and you can charge three devices with it at a time (one plug and two USB inputs).
  • Power cords + cubes. We brought one kindle charger and one phone charger, plus an additional USB-to-plug cube.
  • Cell phones as cameras. We bought an international data plan for one of our phones to use as a back-up map, and then left our phones on airplane mode for the most part; instead, we used our phones as cameras while we traveled.
  • Kindle + kindle charger (only the cord; words with a square USB plug)
  • Iphone + charger (cleared of space-hogging apps and used the phone to take photos with throughout the trip).

Clothing: how do you dress for traveling, hiking, walking, stage-ing, and exploring?

For clothing options, I picked pieces that were versatile and easy to pack. Here’s a sampler of my favorite outfits and the things I wore every day for three weeks:

HEADER—700-four outfits

Shoes:

The biggest problem for me is often shoes — ladies’ high heels do nothing for my feet. I narrowed it down to three pairs, and wore one set on the ride over and back.

  • One pair of Teva sandals (my favorite walking sandals of all time — extremely comfortable and very versatile);
  • A pair of walking keds (I use them for running even though the aren’t really running shoes — really, the idea that you have to have a certain outfit to run is a little silly — you can run in jeans and sandals if you want to).
  • The trick here was the stage shoes — I couldn’t afford to carry a pair of heels for a 3-week adventure, so I brought a second pair of walking shoes, my bright orange loafers. They looked nice enough on stage, and still let me go city walking in them later.
  • Optional: a pair of yoga-toes socks. In lieu of a travel yoga mat, I bring sticky gloves and socks, and use those to provide salamander-like-grip on the floor to bend, twist, and fold to my hearts’ content. (Vibrams are also a great shoe to do yoga poses in, I’ve found).

Pants:

Believe it or not, I actually had quite a few pants options — they roll up small and tight and don’t wrinkle, so I had two long options (for cold nights) and two short options, plus a pair of athletic stretchy shorts.

  • One pair of skinny, stretchy jeans. These were my “stage pants.” Nice enough to look good on stage, comfortable enough to wear anywhere. And do yoga in. Because, yoga.
  • A pair of yoga pants. Because, obviously. Wear these on the plane, wear ’em when it’s cold. Wear them ALL THE TIME BECAUSE I LOVE THEM.
  • A loose pair of “Aladdin” pants — breezy, comfortable, below-the-knee length loose pants. Perfect for hot days, the beach, and anything. Cover you up enough (I’m not a fan of shorts all the time — sticking to seats; feeling too naked; the like).
  • One pair of everyday shorts. For the beach and touristy days.
  • One pair of athletic shorts. First, for running in, and second, because I wear these under dresses to flip upside down in handstands! Safety first — I mean, handstands first.

HEADER—700-traveling light-wine and alley

Boat neck black shirt works for nights out; the alleyways of Barcelona, one of the cities we got to stay in.

Tops:

  • 3/4 boat neck black rayon-cotton t-shirt. (Long sleeves and high neck make me feel modest and keeps the sun off my skin and back.) Great for anything from a date night out to a day travel to a shirt to cover-up at the beach. Rayon/cotton blend dries overnight. Black hides stains and sweat.
  • Long-sleeve Quick-Dry Gray Athletic shirt by Gap body. This layered underneath a jacket keeps me nice and warm; the long-sleeve by itself is small enough to stuff in my daypack and warm enough for anything 45 degrees and higher.
  • One fancy blouse that’s crumple-free from Ann Taylor. (See photo, above). This wrap shirt was my stage shirt + going out fancy at night shirt; it was wrinkle-free and easy to wash and wear.
  • A red billowy top. Pairs well with leggings, looks great going out. Halter-style.
  • A tiny tank top for sleeping in and going to the beach.
  • An exercise top that’s quick-dry for running and casual wear with jeans.
  • One dress, which doubled as a cover-up and a second top — in a bright color, of course, to make me happy. (See: purple dress, in photos).

Orange shoes in stage action!

Other things:

  • Bandana — I like to have a bandana on hand and I often use it as a way to wrap up my underwear so I don’t yank out my computer from my packpack and have a pair of undies come flying out on the train and hit a passenger.
  • Hat — I carry a baseball cap for days when showers are too far between, or sunshine
  • Sunglasses. Because, well, sun.

Rain gear + jackets:

  • The jacket du jour: my favorite jacket of all time, a light black lululemon zip-up jacket with zip-up pockets on both sides (the better to hold my keys and wallet with). When it’s paired with a long-sleeve shirt, it’s super warm. Great for over-air conditioned airplanes and busses, unexpected late nights, and days that drop into the 40’s and 50’s.
  • Rain gear: it rained upon landing in Berlin, and the backwards airports meant we walked from plane to bus, and then bus to terminal. We bought two ponchos, but I think I may buy a real lightweight rain jacket in the near future because the rain jackets made us look like hunchbacks and total tourists. (Looking like tourists was not the goal — next time, we’ll leave them behind).

HEADER—700-ponchos and squats

We look like dorky druids in our ponchos; while traveling I love my stretch-jeans and a kindle to practice my squats while catching up on my reading. (You can’t take my yoga love outta me when I travel.)

Planning for warmth + some notes on the magical properties of a scarf for all-season traveling:

We traveled in temperatures from low 40’s to high 90’s (Fahrenheit), so we had to plan well enough to stay warm — and also cool. My favorite travel item might be a scarf. A long, wool-based scarf can transform into a hundred things. Scarfs double as pillows, blankets, and head-wraps: a blanket when you’re cold; a head wrap when you want to bury yourself in darkness while on an overnight flight. They also can be knotted and tied to create a quick second handbag if you buy something — all you do is wrap the scarf around your object, tie it in a knot, and then bring the two ends up and tie in another knot to create a carrying satchel to transport whatever object you’ve acquired.

HEADER—700-scarf

The magical properties of a scarf. 

For the warmest days (when it hit 90F) — I wore shorts and a small shirt or tank-top. On the coldest days (it was 40F and raining when we arrived in Berlin), I wore a combination of my long-sleeved tech shirt, my black jacket, a scarf, and, at times, the rain poncho.

I also love to travel with wool socks because keeping your head + feet warm makes your entire body temperature rise. So, for warmth:

  • One pair of slim wool socks.
  • My favorite scarf.
  • Layers (jacket, long-sleeved t-shirt).

HEADER—700-zurich barcelona

Toiletries, medicines, make up + other lady stuff: 

Traveling and incorporating full makeup on stage can add an entire extra travel compartment — and a lot of unnecessary weight — for the road. I knew I wanted to backpack for two weeks and only needed makeup for one day. I use a clean contact lens case (they are GREAT travel tools, see my bonus tips at the end for my favorite tricks) and I put a little bit of the makeup I need (foundation, concealer, smudge blush) in the micro-compartments for travel. I also carried an eyebrow pencil, a compact, mascara, and some red lipstick. The entire bag compressed down to a small ziplock.

When packing makeup and toiletries, I try to take all of the big bottles and make them as small as possible. The smaller the bottle, the smaller the pack. Other things I love:

  • MUJI also has a very small one-ounce spritzer, which you can use for super-mini hairspray and perfume doses if you want. Most hotels carry this kind of stuff, so It’s not necessary if you just want to borrow some.
  • The “feminine bag.” Ladies, when you travel for three weeks, you know it’s likely going to happen. I pack a reusable carry-case that has “first aid” on the outside of it, and I keep a stash of all the feminine goods I’ll need in there + any other essentials for an emergency kit. Not every country has the feminine products you’re used to, so bring ’em so you’re not surprised. 

Let’s talk drugs: sometimes while traveling, countries don’t have things that might help (anti-nausea, etc). I always travel with a few bonus tablets of each of the following in a tiny ziplock bag, as an emergency stash.

  • Benadryl.
  • Vic’s Vapor Rub — smear a little into one of those contact lens cases. (Bonus: get a six-pack with six different colored lids so you can keep everything identified).
  • Some Advil, Vitamin C and Vitamin B, and a couple of cough drops.
  • Small nailclippers. Two weeks without nail clippers and I’m picking at my hands like a hen at a feed.
  • Bug-spray. Mosquitos love me. My nickname in the woods (and in warm, muggy, urban areas) is “Juicy Blood” to all those terrible nats, critters and skeeters that like to chomp on me. For me, it’s a necessity.
  • Small bottle of hand lotion. Hotels usually have this, but I’m Vata-based in my constitution and dry skin happens as quick as I can say good morning. Dry airplanes suck the moisture out of me, so I drink water and lotion up + stay hydrated.

HEADER—700-stairs

Other favorite travel tricks I love: 

  • Vicks Vapor Rub is great for clearing out the sinuses and opening up the air passageways — and it’s also great when you’re stuck on a smelly bus with a bathroom-gone-foul. If you’ve ever taken a 4-hour bus ride with a nasty bathroom port-o smell, you know what I’m talking about. My favorite trick? Rub a swipe of Vicks or another scent (lavender and lemon grass are favorites) across the bottom of your nose. This blocks the offending smell and lets you breathe in peace for the rest of your trip.
  • Earplugs. I love earplugs — I keep a pair in almost every pocket that I travel with. Stick ’em in to avoid the overly-chatty pilot; stick ’em in to fall asleep; stick ’em in to drown out obnoxious chatterers and enjoy some stillness and quiet. I used to live next to a hospital, and these were lifesavers for dealing with the constant drown of wailing sirens.
  • Bring a facemask and socks on the airplane in your carry-on luggage. Some airlines give them to you, others don’t. I love covering up my face (or wrap that scarf around your head), and socks keep me warm enough to doze off to sleep.
  • Contact Lens cases are brilliant carrying devices. Use ’em to put a bit of lotion, vaseline, or wash if you only need a few drops of stuff. I put my concealer and makeup in ’em because I only really put on my face for the stage days; after that I was back to the hippy-dippy freedom of sandals and yoga pants.

I also like to pre-pack some food when I travel.

I also like to bring a few non-produce based food items on my trips. I’m mildly hypoglycemic and I don’t love eating gluten, so I buy 10 (or 20) of my favorite food bars, stick ’em in a bag, and carry them around. (I prefer the nut based KIND bars as a travel treat). I also like to bring about a pound of almonds.

While traveling, I’ll stick a bite in my bag so I can go on a bike ride and not have to wait in tourist lines (or spend $20-$30 unnecessarily) on lunch—and I’ll eat a bar or two and have a bottle of water. $1 lunch? Yes, please. A handful of nuts, a banana at a local market or bodega, and I can last until dinner — and then I splurge and get my main meal of the day. (This is also how I like to keep food budgets cheap during the day while still enjoying and savoring the local cuisine over decadent, lengthy evening meals).

Other international travel reminders:

This list isn’t comprehensive, but a couple of things to remember before you travel internationally: Photocopy your passport and email it to yourself so you have a digital copy. Also, you might have someone at home base have a copy for you. Know how much money you have in cash, and accessible through ATM.

Bring a small phrasebook of language notes for the country you’re traveling to. (You can download Lonely Planet books to your kindle, or rip out your language pages from the books to take just a few sheets with you).

In retrospect, however, I would have brought one more thing.

I love traveling light: all of my clothes fit on two hangers and in one stack on the shelves, and it’s both strange and delightful to have my clothing take up so little space.

Each time I travel, however, I learn one more item that I either overlooked or could have left behind.

One late night, nearly two weeks into our trip, I was sitting on the couch after a long day with my husband. Somehow after close examination — perhaps a few flights seated inches from each other did the trick — I realized that this man can grow an impressive unibrow when it’s left unattended. While laying in bed in our hostel, we decided that I might usefully help hand-pluck each of the offenders one by one.

I looked up and realized that I was in Barcelona, grooming my man’s face, and decided we had one more item to add to the the packing list.

Next time I’ll bring tweezers.

Why is moving so hard? The struggle to lighten up, give up, and let go.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Moving out — moving on

“Have nothing in your homes that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” — William Morris.

Everything changes.

I just emptied an apartment full of furniture, things, stories, and stuff. I carried couches, desks, and pieces of furniture up and down (and up and down) many flights of stairs across hilly San Francisco. I donated 600 books and gifted them to friends across the city.

Moving is so freeing and yet so hard.

And I wrapped up a life living in this beautiful home, this beautiful city, with so many good friends.

“We’re making space for new adventures,” my husband reminded me. “Don’t keep anything you don’t remember you had in the first place.”

But it’s so hard. The labor of moving everything. The memories.

Moving is exhausting. The energy of lifting, analyzing, purging, and letting go — it’s no small task. When I got overwhelmed recently in the pile of stuff that somehow accumulates around one’s home, I went online in a desperate plea to my minimalist friends — “Help!” I said, “How do I do this?”

Joshua wrote back a simple truth — and it made me laugh:

“You are not your dishtowel.” — Joshua Fields Millburn

Right. Right!

I am not my things.

I get to keep the stories, the memories, the transformation. My life is not a couch. My memories are not held inside of a sofa.

When I got back to New York this weekend, I decided to continue the cleansing: we piled up four more bags of books and clothes and cleaned out our home. More and more, I’m inspired by lightness, ease, minimalism, and letting go — letting go of past stories, details, habits, and junk.

Why do we each need to keep our own personal bookshelves? If I need a book in the future, I’ll borrow it or get a digital copy. I trust that the world will have this information, regardless of whether or not I house the words within my own tiny square-foot home. I do not need to own hundreds of books to continue to thirst for knowledge.

“There are two ways to be rich: One is by acquiring much, and the other is by desiring little.” — Jackie French Koller.

“Simplicity involves unburdening your life, and living more lightly with fewer distractions that interfere with a high quality life, as defined uniquely by each individual.” — Linda Breen Pierce

What is the weight of holding on to all these “things”?

Plus: what is the weight of carrying around a hundred books I haven’t read yet? The oppressive weight of “should” on my shelf must hold substantial weight in my mind, pinning me down to past wishes, thoughts, and dreams.

What if I free up that shelf space — mental, physical, karmic? Send those books to places they will be loved and cherished, rather than collecting dust in my own life? Root to rise, my yoga mantra. My roots come from my community, my connections, my spirit. My rise comes from weightlessness, expansiveness, ease. If I hold on to unread books, I hold on to unfinished committments. A bookcase full of shoulds and one-days and look at what you haven’t done staring down at me in my morning meditation.

“Any half-awake materialist well knows – that which you hold holds you.” — Tom Robbins.

The sadness of leaving + the freedom of space.

As I prepared to leave San Francisco, my home — my only permanent residence for most of my waking life — I kept tearing up about the friends and the people I would miss. Would giving up my home and apartment mean I could never come back? And then my friend Leah reminded me that I’ll always be back. The cool whispers of San Francisco’s foggy oceans will also be one of my homes.

“You’re family here. We’ll have space for you whenever you return. It’s not about the couch. Just come, whenever you want. It can be easy.” 

And I remember that I get to keep all the stories, all the memories. I so grateful to this beautiful coastal city and to the rich community of people I have met over the years. I love it here.

And I love what’s next, even if I have no idea what it is.

Let go of what’s not serving you, even if it’s as innocuous as books. Make space for your future self. 

To adventure, creative living, the sharing economy, and change.

And as Carol Pearson writes, to a new story, to a new narrative:

“Most of us are slaves of the stories we unconsciously tell ourselves about our lives. Freedom begins the moment we become conscious of the plot line we are living and, with this insight, recognize that we can step into another story altogether.” —Carol S. Pearson, The Hero Within

To an adventure. To freedom.

For more quotes on simplicity and minimalism, check out Joshua Becker’s list of inspiring quotes on minimalism — many of which I used as part of this essay. 

Are you minimalist enough? An experiment in giving up clothes for a year.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Leaning houses San Francisco

A little over a year ago, I wrote a post on Joshua Becker’s Becoming Minimalist site about giving up clothes for a year–and my experiments with minimalism, living with less, and what felt like too much pressure to whittle down my life to a certain number of items. Here’s how the experiment played out: 

Minimalist enough? Giving up (new) clothes for a year.

“We live in a world of scarcity. Which means we feel like we never have enough.” – Brené Brown

Living in a world of scarcity means that we’re constantly searching for the next thing to fill us up, the next destination or achievement to make us whole. Our world is filled with messages that tell us we don’t have enough space, enough stuff, enough clothes, enough fitness. We’re never skinny enough or pretty enough or good enough or rich enough.

This scarcity model drives consumption and accumulation; it spurs us to want more, to buy things because we think it will fill the void. We press to work harder, to get fitter, to buy more clothes, to acquire more things in the name of filling the hole.

The problem with scarcity, however, is that you can’t fill it or fix it with things.

The answer to scarcity, ironically, isn’t more. It is enough.

What you have is enough. Who you are is enough. As Danielle LaPorte says in her Fire Starter Sessions: “You already have everything you need.”

What about Minimalist Enough?

This cuts both ways, however. As a person with lots of things, and an apartment with hundreds of books, I sometimes feel like my efforts to de-clutter and reduce the number of things that surround me aren’t enough. In my efforts to reduce clutter and consider minimalist–or simplicity–as a strategy, I begin to doubt my efforts in being minimalist. And the thought begins to creep in: I’m not minimalist enough. I see someone who is minimalist and only has 100 things and the internal voice begins again, “I guess I’m not minimalist… enough.”

These attitudes are pervasive and can race around in my head. I can quickly become overwhelmed with the desire to eliminate stuff, lose weight, be better, do more, achieve….more.

But the idea of minimalism isn’t about reaching a goal, or checking off a box, or reaching a certain destination. To me, minimalism is realizing that what I already have is enough, and that adding clutter to the pile won’t make it any better. And chasing a dream of more minimalism is, ironically, not what I’m after either.

To me, as I breathe out and sigh into the life that I’m living, and find gentler ways to tweak, edit, and refine; I find that recognizing what is important and what is not is the most critical exercise.

Stripping away the excess lets us get to the bones of what really matters. Get to the heart space. Get to the pieces that are important. And that level can be different for different people.

For me, minimalism is about having exactly what you need–and the things you love–without having stuff and clutter that overwhelms your life. It’s filling up your time and space with love, not excess.

My Modest Minimalist Journey.

I spent 2011 conducting an experiment in which I decided to stop buying new clothes for the entire year. (There were two exceptions: shoes and underwear, but only as needed). For an entire year, I lived without buying anything new, on purpose. As a female in a clothes-and-image-centric society, I wanted to see what it was like to live without shopping for a while.

I was always dismayed by the number of female friends that were readily going into debt to maintain their image in public. When I thought about it, $400 outfits (the average price on any feature shopping magazine page) can add up to a lot of money if one were to wear a new outfit every day for a year. (Think about it: $400 a day for clothes is $150,000 a year just on clothes—who are we kidding?). You might think I’m joking—but to be perfectly honest, I know people who are $20,000 and $30,000 in credit card debt from clothes shopping alone. The image pressures on females (and males!) can be increasingly intense. As someone with immense graduate school debt to overcome setting off into my twenties, the thought of doubling that debt felt paralyzing. I wanted freedom, not debt.

Yet over the year, as I experimented in my journey of wearing and re-wearing the same outfits hundreds of times, I also found there were times when I got discouraged—especially when I looked around online and saw things like the Versalette by revolution apparel. I inadvertently compared myself to other people who were doing a better job at buying nothing than I was.

But then I realized: I don’t have to be the best or the most minimalist. I can be minimalist enough. Minimalism isn’t about winning, and it isn’t about a particular achievement. It’s about finding out what matters to you, and getting rid of the peripheral.

Over the course of the year, I thinned out my closet and pared down to a few favorite items. I made over twenty trips to charity with bags of clothes and gently worn shoes that I no longer needed. At one point, I had socks and underwear with holes in them, and I got out my sewing machine and fixed them up. Making old things new again was surprisingly satisfying. Getting rid of all of my extra socks—and just having a few pairs to use each day—actually made my life simpler. The process of getting rid of things reminded me of what I liked and what mattered.

Over time, I started to become acutely aware of everything that crossed the physical threshold of my front door. The amount of stuff that piled up around me on a daily basis crept into my consciousness, and I’m still surprised by the amount of clutter we let into our lives each day. Every time I brought something new in—mail, letters, books, ideas, shopping bags—I tried to make a conscious effort that the stuff I was bringing with me was valuable, and that I was also taking enough stuff out of the apartment each day to keep my space maintainable.

Untethering from the need to consume was surprisingly easy. It was the attitude change that made the most difference: looking through my things and realizing I already had enough—that I didn’t have to rush out and buy something new to fill a hole or a need—let me breathe again. It was relaxing and reassuring to know what I had was okay. What you are is already good enough.

I learned, slowly, that having excess stuff was giving me a headache, wasting my time and energy, and wasting a lot of money I wanted to focus on eliminating debt.

Even though the experiment is over, I still carry several of the themes into my current shopping habits: I buy new things that are disgusting to buy used (exercise clothes, underwear, socks, and shoes are typically new purchases); and I buy things new that are very difficult to find used (long-enough pants and long-enough jackets are two of my indulgences); but my favorite place to shop is at a thrift store with a bag of donations in hand–I’ll exchange three old things for a few new things. The smaller my closet, ironically, the happier I have been.

Over time, I will continue to whittle away at the things I don’t need in order to make space for the things I love. It turns out, all those unnecessary clothes were crowding out the space of the things I loved. I got rid of several boxes and cleared off a space for all of my books—one of my loves. Clearing out, to me, is about reducing the unnecessary clutter in your life to make space for what matters, and finding a balance that lets your soul breathe. It’s about stripping away the things you don’t need so you can focus on what’s important.

Sometimes a subtle attitude shift or a small sacrifice can make a big difference. Like taking the time to appreciate that what you already have is enough. And your effort? It’s enough.

Because stuff isn’t what matters.

What you have is enough. YOU are enough. 

To read more about minimalism and check out one of my favorite blogs, see Joshua Becker’s site, Becoming Minimalist.

“You can have everything you want.” But also: “You will never be enough.” Two cultural themes that need to be reconfigured.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Eagle and strength, mural, Brooklyn

You can have everything you want, and you will never be enough.

Ouch.

I keep running my head in into two cultural mindsets that I think have negative consequences in American culture (this is not necessarily true everywhere. The French, for example, don’t necessarily subscribe to the American parenting ideal of praising a kid for everything they do). But within this culture, there are a couple of paradigms that run fluidly through our consciousness and are worth paying attention to.These ideas pervade our mental space, our advertising space, our urgency, and our need for more–perhaps even our inability to say no. And I just think they are terribly wrong–and bad for us.

The first paradigm: “you can have anything you want.”

The idea that you can do whatever you want, become whoever you want, and have everything you want is an ambition and idea taught to Millennials and Generation Y from the moment they’re given matching sets of toddling shoes and oodles of fresh diapers and socks.

This idea that you can do, be or have anything you want. Do you agree? Is this true? Can you really be anything you want? Can you have everything?

But Sarah, you might gasp–don’t tell me that I won’t get what I want! That’s a terrible idea! How could you say such a thing?

It’s complicated. You can try and place your energy in however many spaces you can get your hands on. But for many people, they won’t reach their dreams. Their jobs won’t fulfill their passions. They’ll be taken on other journeys or life trajectories that are entirely different than what might be expected.

Regardless of the outcome on this debate–perhaps yes, you can have whatever you want–the corollary is what’s interesting to me right now. If you truly can have whatever you want (or so the cultural teaching goes), then it follows that we don’t have to make decisions because we can have it all, and we don’t have to learn how to say no, because it’s easier to say yes to things.

The consequence of the assumption that you can have everything you want is that you may be disappointed. Often.

Learning how to say no, how to decide, how to choose, and how to get to your own heart center is critical. Interestingly, if you really examine this assumption–I’m not sure that many people actually want to have everything. Happiness isn’t about things and ownership and millions of dollar bills. Wealth is about freedom and having enough or just exactly what you want. Regardless of the outcome of this debate, one consequence of this assumption is that we don’t get taught how to decide. How to say no.

Is the flip side of being taught you can have everything you want failing to teach us how to make decisions? Does this make prioritization and deciding impossible?

The second: “You will never be enough.”

Oof. Ouch, that doesn’t feel good either, does it?

Yet look for it. There seems to be a cultural construction or ideal that you will never be enough. This idea pervades–you will never have enough, and you will never be enough. This culture of scarcity–of not having enough–means that we’re always seeking something to fill us up or fill the void. Hence, we shop like crazy.

Brene Brown identifies this culture of scarcity in several common phrases that we say every single day. When you wake up in the morning, the first thought many people have is:

“I didn’t get enough sleep.”

Not enough. (Why?) Then, we start the work day:

“I don’t have enough time.”

Again, not enough. (Why?) And at the end of the day:

“I didn’t get enough done.”

And again, not enough. (Why?)

We see this from the way we talk about money (“I don’t have enough money”)–and in fact, that’s not a conversation we’re having because we’re too timid to even begin talking about money and scarcity–to our sleep, our time, our lives, and our work.

Why these cultural constructs fail us.

These two cultural constructions–a culture of scarcity (“you are not enough, you don’t have enough,”) and a culture of achievement (“you can be anything you want, you can have everything you want,”)–are they beneficial? How do they serve us, and how do they deceive us?

And worse, does the combination of these two cultural thoughts make us all slightly neurotic? (I can be anything! But shit! I’ll never be enough! But I can have everything! But shit! I’ll never be enough!)

What would a different mindset look like?

Out of curiosity, what if we had a different mantra? What would the opposite construct look like? Perhaps:

You are enough.

You already have everything you need.

There is nothing in this world that you need to own or acquire to make your life better.

You are enough.

This here, this is enough.

Hmmm…

20 lessons from starting a project, part two: launch week.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck


I’m breathing again, having just launched our website project this past week. Everything was set to go live early in the week – launch campaign emails, final website tweaks, coordination with the team, announcements to be sent, facebook posts, advance tweets. I woke up on Wednesday morning grinning from ear to ear – the first email blast sent out while I was sleeping, but (who am I kidding) – I was too excited to launch this project to sleep in. I woke up at 4:55 AM. (I didn’t get out of bed that early, but I was definitely up and ready.) Sometimes I get too excited to sleep.

About the project: If you want to know more about it – it’s for designers and non-designers who love cities and landscapes – I’ll let you wander over the website at your own leisure. Over the past year, we’ve been building a resource to better understand how landscape architecture and cities intersect – and the result is a published quarterly journal and image resource for information about landscape urbanism.

On this blog, however, I write about doing things. About the process. About the ups and downs – what it’s like to figure stuff out, to work through the hard bits, to learn. This blog is a collection of thoughts – notes on the process, if you will. So here’s where you get the behind-the-scenes picture.

Part 2: Launch Day.

I’ll start with three vivid stories from the past year. This- this- is what it looks like. For better or for worse, these are some of the memories of making this project happen:

Snapshot 1: I’m sitting outside of my apartment, after several failed attempts to get in. I’ve locked myself and my keys and my phone on the wrong sides of the door, respectively, and I’m now stuck outside an apartment, late at night, wishing desperately that I were inside, in bed, sleeping. I’m not. It’s cold, I’m exhausted, and I’m slowly gaining more compassion and sympathy for the homeless people in the streets of San Francisco. And, I have to pee. No matter. 2 hours, no computer, no jacket and a homeless and cold Sarah finds a locksmith to let her into her own apartment, $200 later. Deadlines are deadlines, and I’m working, tired, behind the computer, alone. This is glamorous and exciting … 

Snapshot 2: I’ve taken three sacred holidays from work, a vacation, and I’m in New York City, meandering through Prospect Park and talking with three editors about our vision for the website and our bigger visions about everything landscape urbanism, architecture – even forestry and dance.  I am reminded that parks are for people, and that parks and cities last longer than people. I’m not really sure how long a website lasts, or even an idea … but physical spaces, they are the foundation of future generations. I remember why I’m involved in this. People. Places. Doing things that matter. 

Snapshot 3: I’m drinking tequila and lime, laughing with new friends, grinning from ear to ear because somehow, remarkably, miraculously, we did it. A vision turned reality. A sense of satisfaction so deep that my bones and soul feel unstoppable.  I’m waiting in line at a bar in this city and a complete stranger turns to me and says, “Excuse me, but can I just ask you a question?” I nod, gleefully. He goes on, “Can you just tell me – why are you so happy?”

 It’s almost ridiculous. And I can’t stop laughing – because we got here. We did it.

Making things happen is beyond satisfying. It’s beautiful, it’s inspiring, and it’s down-to-the-knees energizing, because it shows you what you can do if you put a little grease to the wheel.

The Entre/Intra-Preneur’s Journey: 20 Lessons to Take With You

An entrepreneur is someone who does something. Someone who builds something that hasn’t been built before. A person or business who makes things happen. In a corporate job, a solo journey, or somewhere in between, entrepreneurs and intrapreneurs challenge the status quo. I’ve been fortunate this past year to have several projects at hand to focus on – and while I’ll be analyzing and critiquing this project for a quite a while, here’s a bit more of an inside peak at what I’ve learned and gathered along the way: the lessons from this project, part 2. (For the first post, check out part one).

  1. People want you to succeed.Just when it gets tough, people step in and do the most wonderful things. Embrace your peers – people want to help. People want you to do well.
  2. People admire hard work.  Hard work is admirable. Hard work is gutsy. Hard work is courageous. When you work hard, people will help you out.
  3. There is an art to getting things done. I could not, simply could not, do everything on my list. Some days I had a short list of 10 big things I wanted to do, and by 12 PM at night, after more than a few 16-hour stretches, I had to put the pens and paper down and fall asleep. Glasses on face, lights still on, dinner plate uncleared – nothing spectacular or particularly beautiful. At the end of the day, despite how tired I was, I couldn’t let myself get bogged down by the disappointment of not finishing, of only getting 3-4 things done. Little by little, we carved away at the ambitious piles of work and made a dent.
  4. Each day, show up. Do something each day, even if it’s for a short time.
  5. Feeling stupid is part of the process. Feeling stupid on a regular basis is normal. At least, for me it is. The more I don’t know, the more dumb I feel, the more I can learn. I’ve spent an entire year feeling completely out of sorts and overwhelmed by everything. I’m hoping that (a) I’m not stupid or (b) I’m getting a heck of a lot smarter. Both are still to be determined.
  6. Learn as quickly as you can. Ask a lot of questions. The quicker you admit what you don’t know, the quicker you’ll learn. Pride has no place in growth.
  7. Become comfortable with uncertainty. Really comfortable.
  8. Frustrations can be high. Become comfortable with frustration. Learn tricks and techniques for staying level-headed even if your emotions run rampant. At times, I had to fight back angry tears because of things that didn’t go as expected – nights when a week’s worth of work was erased and we had to start over from scratch. Short of hitting my head against the bathroom wall, all those yoga exercises started to sink in, and I thought to myself (on many occasions): “Breathe. This too, is just a moment of discomfort. This too, is ephemeral.” Breathing helps.
  9. Plan for slow days. They happen. Don’t plan to work every day – it’s not possible.
  10. If you’re stuck, start smaller. Sometimes the projects and sub-projects seemed too big to tackle. Breaking it down in to smaller chunks is extremely helpful.
  11. Pivot. Iterate. Change. Ask, “is this working”? Test early and test often.
  12. No one else knows what’s in your mind. Telling people what you want is a really hard thing. Work on it. Ask for feedback. Strive for clarity.
  13. Disappointment is inevitable. Disappoinment occurs when your expectations don’t match the oucomes. Be sure to compare your outcome to your original state and be proud of what you’ve achieved, no matter what.
  14. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I over-promised on many occasions and learned this lesson (as usual) the hard way. I had to stop saying “Yes!” and “Sure!” to things I wanted to do, because I was promising away all the time in my day, and then some. I learned how to politely decline, and how to strategize to be more effective.
  15. It’s okay to leave things unfinished. Focus on getting the best parts or most important things done first.
  16. The middle is the hardest. For me, the dip in May was really tough to get through. I sent a letter to my peers and nearly quit my project, packing it up and putting it on the shelves. I often wondered, “is this worth it? Is any of it worth it?” Doubts are always there.
  17. Form habits. Don’t rely on last-minute decisions. Having a rock-solid vision plan to get you through can be golden. Habits can be my savior. Some days, my ‘dumb days,’ when my brain couldn’t think through strategy, I’d switch to my to-do lists, start with the easy wins, and finish as many tasks as I could before 11am. Then, I’d take a break for the rest of the day, having conquered many small things. This habit – of doing something, even the smallest of things – always surprises me with what it adds up to.
  18. Surround yourself with good people. They are a tremendous source inspiration.
  19. It is an incredible amount of work. Don’t underestimate how much work big dreams can take. Be sure you want this as your dream before you start.
  20. It is worth it. 
Thanks for stopping by! Like what you read here? Want to know more? Check out the favorite posts page or subscribe to new updates here: 


Sign up for email updates
* indicates required


The lessons you need most, learning the hard way, and big dreams: part 1

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I’ll be honest,

My face hurts.

It might be from the lack of sleep, or the fact that my face is currently crushed against a table in a coffeeshop, where I’ve inadvertendly placed my head down for a quick snooze, and now I’m covered in drool and blinking rapidly trying to regain a sense of where I am – but no matter.

Actually, now that I shake it, my head hurts, too.

I went to the dentist yesterday and afterwards they gave me 4 advil – I asked for 2 extra – pounding headache, be gone.

… Shit, I’m getting distracted again.

Focus.

No one told me that start-up life as an intrapreneur and entrepreneur would be this glamorous, this fun. So exciting. Nevermind the pictures and dreams in your mind about making it rich and doing what you’ve always dreamed of doing – I’m sitting in a coffeeshop, sleeping in the middle of the day, boss only to myself — (and lest that sound enticing, let me tell you that being the boss of yourself is hard, taxing, challenging, and at times, disturbing) — try this on for size:

Go home Sarah, you’re working too hard.
You need to finish this project.
But you’re tired.
No one else is doing it.
True – that’s a good point.
In fact, we should make a map of all of these projects.
Sigh. Okay, yes, “we” should … I’ll get on it.

In the same vein, really – everyone’s my boss, I’m working for hundreds of people, the people that are my clients, the job that I am intra-preneuring at and being challenged on a daily basis, the team that didn’t exist yet, except now it does, because we’ve created something new that didn’t exist before. I’m working harder than I ever have, and probably disturbing the nice folks next to me enjoying their leisurely breakfast because, well, I’m snoring. And drooling. Damn it, I’ve dropped crumbs in my keyboard again.  Nice work, Sarah.

“The things worth doing are things that neither you or anyone else have done before. That’s why it’s terrifying. That’s the beauty in uncertainty.” – Jonathan Fields. 

All summer, my friends and advisors have been warning me to take it easy, to do fewer things, to uncheck a few boxes and slow down. I’ve got a hundred projects up in the air, and despite knowing – knowing – that I can’t keep up this pace, I still have the hardest time saying no to things that are in front of me. I couldn’t say no.

But then I had to.

I’m starting a big project – a big, crazy, dream-like project that is at the intersection of my professional interests (landscape architecture and city planning), my business and communication drives (building a website, being a writer, and heading up the communications team at my job), and my desire to form great teams and publish (oh yeah, by the way, I’m founding the organization and publication – um, wait. what?).

Ambitious? Yes. More ambitious than I even realized? Certainly. Probably – no, wait – Definitely.

This past month has been – how shall we say it – insane. Working a full-time job and a full-time start-up, while doing a few side projects and occasionally jumping into the Bay – well, it can be hard, although the word “hard” has lost most meaning to me, as I stare stupidly at white walls and try to recalibrate parts of my brain late in the evening. I never use to be a whiskey drinker, and then, now, well baby let me tell you (only sort of kidding). Part of me cringes to write this and share this, because I aspire to the “polished” version of me, the one who thinks she knows what she’s doing – you know, where we all believe that the world is a happy shiny place. I’m not one to shy away from hard work, because I think most of the things worth doing require a little to a lot of elbow grease.

I think most people can and should work harder, actually – because what’s wrong with hard work? – but this feels different.

I’m tired. I’m maxing out. I’m freaking out.

You know, the usual.

And I’ve been absent from this blog – my writing space, my thinking space – a little bit too much.

Trying to do Less.

I wrote an ebook, called Lessons from Less, and even though I sent it out to my friends and peer bloggers, got reviews and feedback, and edited it – I can’t seem to even put it up on this blog, because it turns out the one who needs the advice the most is still me.  It was hanging over my head like a hundred other things, taunting me with finishing it, wanting my attention, and I finally had to say:

Look here, project. I’m putting you on the shelves. I’m going to publish you next. Not simultaneously with this project. Next.

And it seems I need to learn this lesson again and again. Some lessons we learn, we must re-learn. They are life lessons we’re bound to dance with for the rest of our lives; they aren’t something that we check off once and say, well, why, yes – I did that. They sit and wrangle with us, teaching us time and time again to learn and re-learn what we haven’t quite got yet.

I’m still learning. I can’t do everything all at once. Not at the same time. There’s a lesson there – and believe me, I’m learning it.  I will certainly be releasing the e-book at a later date. It just is not the right time.  I just can’t push “send” on something that’s tertiary, peripheral, and not my focus. I can’t send work that’s 90% and not be 100% behind it.

And you know how that feels? Simultaneously awful and wonderful.

Awful, because I had to say no to things that I really still want to do. Three weeks ago, I cancelled my biggest swim of the season, a trans-bay swim I’ve been training to do all summer, a solo 10-mile journey across the San Francisco Bay, because I can’t do it all at once.

I just …. can’t.

Saying that makes me feel miserable, to be honest.

It’s mind-wrenching, numbing, impossible feeling, and part of me feels like I’m letting myself down. There’s nothing quite as deflating as pulling the plug after working so hard. And swimming … swimming is my sanity, my blessing, my space away from life, to sit and be. And yet I had to call it. And say, you know … not right now. Just not right now.  I spent a long morning running aimlessly and ended up down by the bay, watching the water quietly in the early morning, wondering if I was making the right decision, wistful and worried.

Awful, because I’ve now written almost two books, one e-book about lessons I’ve learned, and one book on swimming. I have aims to publish, and I’ve called it quits on each of them. Something’s not right. I can feel it. Not now. And I’ve got to listen to this instinct of mine, despite the angst of having spent so much time working on each of these projects. And saying no to my ambition, listening to my quiet feeling in my gut – it still feels really unsettling.

But what is it that they say in business, in finance? Don’t throw money after sunk costs. In life, it’s the same lesson. Just because you’ve already spent energy on it doesn’t mean you should continue to spend energy on it. And the same with projects, it is with our minds and brains. Free up that brain space. Stop worrying about things that can’t be fixed. Let your mind be free, as they say. Let go.

And then, even though I feel awful – even though this is a bittersweet struggle, a chess play I’ll debate for a bit and reflect, wondering how and what I could have done better – at the same time, I feel wonderful.

Wonderful, because I feel like I can breathe again, slowly, even though insanity is still mounting like a dense fog and I’m threatened to be engulfed in it again. But focused, like I can now focus my energy on two things: my one job, my one project, and then go home and face-plant on the bed every night and get up and do it all over again.

Exciting, isn’t it? Let me tease and entice you with the ways of entrepreneurship next … 

With that said, however, I’m taking a short break here, writing only once per week (more if I can! but I had to insert some sanity parameters into my life recently) and building up some momentum to launch my big project, my crazy thing that I’ve been working on, which started out just by dabbling on the side, which is finally, I-still-can’t-believe-it, nearly ready to go live and I’m in the sidelines, biting my nails and tearing out my hair and then walking out in public, smiling, hiding that fear behind my eyes because frankly,

Frankly, for the record, I have no idea what the heck I’m doing, either. And I’m really glad you’re here with me.

Lessons from the side-hustle-turned-dream-project, part 1:

In the spirit of learning, here are a few tips and notes I’ve jotted down in my notebooks as I’ve gone through this part of the process. It’s unfinished, uncut, more’s coming, but here’s what I got for you:

  1. Not everyone will understand your dreams.
  2. You have chosen a different path than many of your friends.
  3. Put your health first.
  4. If you try to do it all alone, you’re an idiot.
  5. Find good mentors.
  6. Ask questions.
  7. Don’t be afraid of what you don’t know. Sometimes, that’s everything.
  8. Set constraints and parameters.
  9. Have a solid vision plan. A rock-solid vision plan. You’ll need it in the thick of things.
  10. Surround yourself with great people.
  11. Generosity and kindness are always good.
  12. Tact and grace are never inappropriate. Grace under pressure is learned only under pressure.
  13. Choose. Make choices. Cut ruthlessly. Do only the most important thing.
  14. Get sleep whenever possible, and it’s not always possible. Take care of yourself first, as much as possible.
  15. Balance flies out the window, and then sometimes comes back in short stints.

Launching a Project – and a short hiatus.

I’m going to be launching my big research project – a year-long endeavor to study the ins and outs of cities and our urban spaces, particularly the green spaces and the invisible systems that make cities work – and I’m going to post less frequently on this blog for the next month or so: I won’t promise frequent updates, or a return date (although it will definitely be before the end of September).  This is me, trying to take it …. easy?

The project has been more work than I ever dreamed and more fun that I ever could have imagined. The people I work with are incredible. Adjectives fall short. There is brilliance in their capabilities, and I am thrilled, honored, and lucky that they come together to work together with me. Somehow in the span of a year, we’ve assembled over a dozen universities, thirteen people on our team, five editors, and over 40 people featured — we are launching an online journal. There will be six issues of the journal this year, each exploring the ideas of cities, urbanism, landscape architecture, and design.

Why? because where we live – our environmental context – is important to who we are. To me, we are two things: we are what we think, and we are what we surround ourselves with. Once you step outside of your brain, if that’s even possible – looking at the environments that shape our behavior is fascinating. Cities are possibly the most interesting manifestations of being human – they represent how we design systems, how we work together, they hold history in their building walls, and they change daily, yearly, and live beyond any single human life.

A city is analogous to a human body – each with metabolisms and invisible systems and throbbing, vibrant heartbeats. Cities would not exist without people.

And so, in my day job, the one that lets me explore what landscape architecture is and what urban planning is – I’ve taken it upon myself to launch a journal, and issue one is published on September 14th. This Fall, we will be going to the Urban Land Conference, the American Society of Landscape Architects Conference, Green Build, and Blog World, to name a few.

Wish me luck.

If you want to watch what’s happening, check out: www.landscapeurbanism.com, the facebook page, or the twitter page.

To figuring things out, how to start, and how to grow.

XOXO

Sarah

Finish early.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Don’t stay late. Go home early.

Do less. Seriously, take most of the things off of your to do list. Here are some words to live by, when hiring and managing people:

“I’m more impressed by the person who can get it done in 6 hours – and go home and rest – than the person who gets the same thing done in 16 hours.”

Great managers recognize the human-ness of work, and the reality of productivity.

Just make sure you do the one most important thing each day.

Tonight, put down the trivialities. Go home. Eat dinner. Sit in the sunshine. Breathe the outdoor air. Finish your task. Rest.

The world is not made for over-working. In fact, leave early. You probably don’t do it often enough.

Great things can happen by people who live deliberately.

Guest Post | Reprint : On silence and the clutter of noise, by Dave Ursillo

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

“Devoid of the clutter of noise, we are nothing more or less than in existence; we are because we are and the universe is because it is. Engulfed in simple silence and nothing, the mind is quiet, the heart is open, and the Soul becomes clairvoyant; this is the bliss of nothingness.”

– May 2010, The Clutter of Noise and the Power of Silence

Sarah’s note: This is one of my favorite posts from Dave Ursillo, a writer and entrepreneur whose essays explore living, potential, and the vibrancy of experience.  To read more of his writing, check out his website, or read the original post here. My thanks to Dave for kindly allowing me to re-print his words here.

The Clutter of Noise and the Power of Silence | by Dave Ursillo

“See how nature–trees, flowers, grass–grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.” ~Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Our lives are cluttered by noise. The noise of life can be beautiful, relaxing and certainly inspiring, like the ballads of song and the sound of happiness embodied in laughter.

But when constant noise becomes the status quo of how we live our lives, moments devoid of audible commotion suddenly become awkward instances of discomfort; when we become addicted to surrounding ourselves with background noise, we lose the uniqueness of moments of quiet that provide us with exceptional clarity, inner balance and present-mindedness.

Engulfed in simple silence and nothing, the Soul within ourselves reemerges and returns us to our purer nature–if only for a moment.

Within these moments of quiet and nothingness, when we abandon and forget everything about who and what we are–our individual sense of the Self, our pasts, the circumstances of our lives in the present moment, and all that we expect and anticipate the future to become–a more pure, honest, and whole form of ourselves reemerges from deep within our souls. It reemerges, rather than emerging for the first time, for this purer side of ourselves resides deeply and hidden at most times, yet it remains an integral and potent component of our human nature.

Seeking Out the Quiet, Amid the Commotion

For human beings in society, the peaceful pace of nature called “silence” often and quickly becomes a discomfort. When constantly surrounded by the noise of everyday life–from the sound of the alarm in the morning, to the car radio, our iPods and MP3 players, music on our computers, to TVs and so much more–the constant stream of noise and sounds becomes the natural state of life. Every waking moment is consumed or accompanied by noise.

Although silence is the natural state of mother nature, for humans in society silence gradually becomes a series of unusual and uncomfortable pauses. Moments of quiet are even considered socially awkward when interacting with friends, family members and acquaintances.

We become so entrenched in noise that we forget what it is like to live, work, even sleep or simply exist in the midst of silence. This is unfortunate because during moments of silence and nothingness, a purer side of ourselves reemerges; in moments of blankness and quiet, and often without so much as realizing it, we embrace the present moment for all of its worth and abandon the common chaos and noise of everyday life. Devoid of the noise of life and “thinking for the sake of thinking,” in silence we regain the peace of mind of living in the moment–the unfamiliarity of living consciously and fully in the present time.

The Power of Silence: Living Fully in the Moment

The power that comes from moments of silence and quiet–those times in nature or alone to ourselves when our minds become blank and free–is that we arrive at a state of mind that allows us to fully live in the moment. Within these rare moments of silence, we are allowed to abandon the confines of our thoughts; the constant stream of consciousness and thinking that begins when we wake and merely pauses when we sleep.

Surrounded by little else than simple silence and nothing, we forget who we are and what we have become. Though led from the past and into today by that which has occurred unto and around us,in silence time loses all meaning. There is only the present moment. Within silence and nothingness, there is only the wind that rushes across the plains, nothing but the rush of waves sweeping the shores.

Devoid of the clutter of noise, we are nothing more or less than in existence; we are because we are and the universe is because it is. Engulfed in simple silence and nothing, the mind is quiet, the heart is open, and the Soul becomes clairvoyant; this is the bliss of nothingness. The gift is not given, for it simply is. The moment cannot be captured, for it simply is. The power of silence is opening ourselves to the present moment; a fleeting instance in time that we oft never realize; a fragment of our lives wherein the world becomes perfectly peaceful amid the quiet of nothingness.

If you don’t commit, it won’t happen.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Commitment is key.

Commitment is everything.

Commitment means “I say yes,” and “I’ll do this,” and, more importantly, it says “I know what I want.”

When you commit to something, you say yes. You make priorities. And by making priorities, you also say no.

You say no to things that don’t help you reach your goal.

You say yes to the things that matter.

You make a plan of action.

You hold yourself accountable.

Say yes to your committment. Make a decision. A multitude of days can pass while you contemplate your decision.

Say yes to listening to yourself.

Say yes to being present in the moment.

Commit to something. (And go do it.)