Less Is More

I first experienced the real-life application of “less is more” when my son was enrolled in Montessori school. The lesson materials were arranged on low bookcases, two or three at most per shelf, and rotated so the students weren’t distracted by too many choices. The beauty of “less is more” can be experienced in practically any situation, and I’ve applied it with benefit to two areas of my life.

The first is drinking. Alcohol. I’m fortunate to have escaped the alcoholism demon that plagues so many, but the only time I’ve really abstained from alcohol after attaining legal age, was when I was pregnant with my son. So I had a good excuse. When a friend recently mentioned that it had been seventeen years since he’d quit drinking, I naturally assumed it meant he was “recovering” from alcoholism.  But it was just his personal choice. Intrigued, I decided to give it a go, just to check it out. I began with non-alcoholic beer, and there’s a much better selection available now: Kaliber and Erdinger are my two favorites. If that’s not available, I’ve been drinking club soda with cranberry juice and a lime slice.

Sure, maybe it’s like drinking decaf coffee. As in, what’s the point? At least, that’s been the common reaction. And when asked, I don’t really have a good reason, except to say that I’m just trying it. The disconcerting part is that since I’m not struggling as an alcoholic, and I haven’t given up alcohol for Lent, there’s a subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) pressure to imbibe.

I’ve had time to consider the triggers when I would have a glass of wine or beer. If my co-workers drink after work, it’s fun to have a glass of wine, or two. If emotions are running high, either from stress or celebration, we can sit together for a couple hours, uncorking several bottles by the time we leave for home. Yes, it’s a lot of fun. No, it doesn’t exactly inspire the rest of the evening. I end up saying no to working out, walking the dog, spending quality time with my son. I won’t go into the health risks, but suffice it to say that several glasses of wine in one sitting is not recommended for optimum health.

The last few opportunities for drinking – a party, “drinks” with friends and family, champagne brunch – I’ve stuck with my resolve to avoid alcohol. Over the last couple months I’ve had two glasses of wine, slowly and with savor. I’m not trying to abstain completely, but I have to admit that after enjoying the company, conversation, and food, walking out the door without a “buzz” feels as refreshing as a massage.

Less profound is my resolve to limit sweets. For someone without much of a sweet tooth it should be pretty easy, right? Except I’ve noticed lately that when I want something sweet, I’m feeling stressed, pressured, upset … in a word: bad. Somewhere along the line I acquired up the emotional connection of “rewarding” myself with a pick-me-up. To feel better. Let that sink in.  Because it doesn’t work. Whatever bothers me – whatever the situation – isn’t affected in the least by the fact that I’ve made a special trip to Nantucket Bakery for a homemade macaroon. Or pulled an Annie’s caramel from the stash in my desk. Even worse, because I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, I end up feeling slightly nauseous. Now my tactic is to work on addressing the situation I find so troublesome instead of turning to a sugary stash like a furtive heroin addict.

So that’s the “less.” What is the more? I’m more grounded in my own life instead of using alcohol or sugar to escape. I can enjoy a glass of wine or a few bites of dessert in an appropriately relaxed setting without using alcohol or sugar to bandage icky parts of my day. My days need me to work on making progress, not blindfolding myself and trying to move forward.

For me lately, less is more. More or less.