Less

Many years ago, decades, or maybe centuries (I'm old), I used to think more was better. More apps, more features, more options. My desk was cluttered with gadgets, my phone had folders of apps I'd used maybe twice, and my to-do list looked endless. Then something shifted. Maybe it was the twentieth time I couldn't find the right cable in my drawer of tangled wires. I started craving simplicity.

That led me through a rabbit hole or trial and errors in search of better. That searched showed me "less."

Fast forward to today and you can find me doing one thing at a time. When I'm writing, I write. When I'm cooking, I cook. When I'm talking to someone, I put my phone away. The constant mental juggling that felt necessary before now feels exhausting. There's something meditative about giving your full attention to a single task.

This has changed how I think about tools as well. That Swiss Army knife gathering dust? Replaced by a simple, sharp chef's knife, and a single purpose screwdriver. The note-taking app with seventeen features? Gone, in favor of a basic text editor that just lets me write.

There's beauty in a tool that does exactly one thing well. My French press makes coffee; that's it. My cast iron pan cooks food; no fancy coatings or complicated instructions. My notebook holds thoughts; no syncing, no notifications, no battery to die.

What I didn't expect was how much mental energy I'd reclaim. When every tool has a single purpose, you don't waste time figuring out which feature to use. Your brain can focus on the actual work.

Maybe this is wisdom: recognizing that the goal isn't to optimize every moment, but to create space for the moments that matter. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is throw away half your productivity tools and focus on what's in front of you.

Less really is more. It usually takes a while to figure that out.