“Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little.” -Edmund Burke
I was cleaning my windows this weekend, a chore I despise for many reasons: It’s not fun; it’s tiring; I’m really, really bad at it; and it takes way too long.
My husband began the project a few months ago by spraying off the outside of each window. The inside was my job, and oh, how I fought it, putting it off until one day, I decided to wash a pane. What should have been quick and easy took days. A few days later, I washed another pane, and another, until finally, I was done. Those dirty little windows were scrubbed.
I looked through the clean panes, at bees that tried desperately to build a hive next to our home, and birds that flitted over the rooftops. Life was clearer, crisper.
One day, probably not far away, winds will blow and dust will gather, and once again, I will fight, and slowly, I will clean. Because life is like that, it begins, ends, and begins again. But what really matters is that, in the end, I finished, only because I had begun.
The road to simplicity is like that as well. I thought it would be quick and easy, and once I’d accomplished it, I’d never have to do it again.
I remember dumping drawers, cleaning closets, and feeling refreshed with the removal of each bag. But it didn’t end there. I kept finding things to do. It was never-ending.
I guess simplicity is a constant journey, a life-long path of travel.
But the funny thing about life is this, like my windows, it gets muddied up. And then we must clean. Begin, end, begin again.
A constant journey, a continuous motion of change.
My journey to simplicity will never end. I’m on it for good. But I wouldn’t be here if I had never begun.
What can you do to begin your own journey?