{Did you know you can write on Elephant? Here’s how—big changes: How to Write & Make Money or at least Be of Benefit on Elephant. ~ Waylon}
~

I’ve always loved that Zora Neale Hurston quote:

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” 

It’s such a beautiful way to look at the times in your life when we were left suffering, wondering “Why?” or worse, “Why me?” And the times when we inexplicably knew why and somehow all the struggles in our life started to come together and make sense.

But one thing I don’t think we talk about enough is how complicated each of these years can be. How hard it can be to handle both the suffering and the clarity.

For me, this year has been one that answers.

I finally feel like all the things I’ve been asking for, praying for, for the longest time are starting to come together. And yet, my world has never felt more cluttered, more overwhelming than at this very moment.

Each day feels like tip-toeing through a minefield of chaos. Some of it small and mundane, the daily stress of life. And some of it big and overwhelming, the kind of stress that makes me want to crawl under the covers again.

Because even in the years that answer, the questions still remain.

For the past few months, I’ve been looking to simplify life when and where I can. And not just in an emotional sense but in a physical one as well. But even finding the motivation to clean out the chaos has been difficult, until recently.

A few weeks ago, the universe answered another question for me—and in doing so, I was forced to work through some of the clutter in my life. Mainly, the physical kind.

There I was, digging through drawers and closets and bookshelves and boxes and deciding what was worth keeping and what I was ready to let go of. What I truly needed and what I was just holding on to out of habit or laziness. What actually made me feel joyful and what was just filling the space. I stuffed things in garbage bags and boxes for donation, and with every item I added to the pile, my mind felt a little less scattered.

With every item that found its way out of my home, I felt more settled in my physical space. But also, more settled in my emotional space.

The questions started to feel less overwhelming, and the answers started to feel more clear.

The whole process of decluttering and letting go, of simplifying my outer world in order to simplify my inner world, reminded me of a passage from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s book, Gift from the Sea:

“I love my sea-shell of a house. I wish I could live in it always. I wish I could transport it home. But I cannot. It will not hold a husband, five children and the necessities and trappings of daily life. I can only carry my little channelled whelk. It will sit on my desk in Connecticut, to remind me of the ideal of a simplified life, to encourage me in the game I played on the beach. To ask how little, not how much, can I get along with. To say—is it necessary?—when I am tempted to add one more accumulation to my life, when I am pulled toward one more centrifugal activity.”

Is it necessary?

How much more simple could our lives become if we learned to ask this question more often? If we learned to ask it before we became overwhelmed or bogged down by life and its many questions? If we learned to ask it every time we were faced with adding one more thing to our home, our schedules, our relationships, or our to-do lists?

What if we woke each day wondering how little we could get by with instead of how much more we think we can carry?

While I’m grateful for this year that is answering so many questions, I’m even more grateful for the realization that regardless of what kind of year I’m faced with—what questions and chaos and clutter may arise—I can always find a way to simplify my life.

All it takes is asking, “Is it necessary?” And then trusting that I already know the answer.

~