A More Simple Life

Remember when life was more simple?  When you enjoyed the small things?  Well, I actually cant.  I think I was born focused on "more, more, more" and "what's next".  But I'm learning to live more simply and I'm recognizing that bountiful is a state of mind. 

I can remember a family trip to Lancaster County in Pennsylvania - the home of the Amish.  It was the summer before I entered fourth grade and my aunt and uncle had just moved there "to live a less hectic life" and escape New York's high taxes as they were both retired and living on a fixed income (more simply). 

To kick off the trip, my aunt took us on a private tour of the town in my dad's trusty Ford Bronco.  We rolled down the windows, and watched the horse and buggies trotting along beside us. My aunt pointed out a group of young children running and laughing in an endless green pasture and told us about what the amish youth do for fun.  "They really enjoy mowing the lawn," she said.
   
"Ha," I laughed.  She couldn't be serious, I thought.  "That's so boring!  Mowing the lawn is a chore," I exclaimed.

A few days into the trip we went to a small grocery store to get a few things and I watched as a boy only a few years older than me worked in his barefeet stacking large sacks of some sort of oat cereal - the amish equivalent to "cheerios" I imagined.  The boy accidently dropped a sac and the "cheerios" spilled.  I felt bad I wanted to help him clean them up.  "This poor boy with his boring life.  Now he's dropped his cheerios," I thought sympathetically.  But I stayed back and watched as he went for a broom and joyously swept the cereal into a pile.  "They really enjoy mowing the lawn," I remembered my aunt saying.   

At the time I had pity for the boy because he didn't know how wonderful it felt to play "donkey kong" or hold a "my buddy" doll on a plastic Fisher Price swing.  Sure, I felt bad for the starving children in Africa - but what about the children in our own back yard?  What about the poor Amish children who mow the lawn for fun because they don't have toys or nintendo or cd's?  My pity was ignorant and ill informed.  I was the one who was bored, who couldn't find the simple fun in sweeping - swirling crumbs and dust and watching as the unfamilial particles magically blend in a pile. 

Things are different now and I'm grateful to have known both a life of luxury and a life of simplicity.  I am by no means Amish, but I am much less material than I used to be.  Before it was not uncommon for me to drop $40 on Laura Mercier's fig body cream or $260 on a red Elie Tahari suit.  Now life has taken me to a place where most things outside of food, shelter and water are a luxury. I'm forced to deal with what I have.  I'm beginning to see that simplicity brings us closer to understanding happiness.  Still, I'll leave the lawnmowing to my father.