It’s a statement I typed in an email to a friend last week. Unbidden. True.
I relish the sudden spontaneous emergence of such pithy truths.
Like the time when I asked another friend for the gift of her skillful deep listening as I weighed a hefty matter needing decisive action. “Winnowing to essence,” came my reply, as I described the simplicity I was after.
Since then, those words have become a mantra for the gradual process of letting go of a lot of my life’s trappings, and committing to exchange things for experiences.
“Quite a bit of not a lot.”
I like the roll of this in my mouth, piqued by a bit of paradox. Like a lemon lime lollipop, sweet and tangy. Evoking, or perhaps subliminally inspired by, this recent Facebook “share.”
It makes deep and abiding sense.
It feels good and right in my body, the reservoir of wordless wisdom.
And it comes. Remarkably quite easily. Ceasing blind urgency and habitual headlong over-ride and over-drive. Giving over to long moments gazing out the window into the now fully green trees. Pausing between paragraphs and pages of the latest book to wonder into white clouds suspended in signature azure skies. Going to bed earlier and sleeping later, serenaded by robins.
Winnowing to essence. Quite a bit of not a lot.
Mirroring for each other an innate way of being, born of aging.