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Diamond-Michael Scott
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For many of us, life as we know it spins on the axis of productivity. From the moment we wake up to when we nod off to sleep, we’re bombarded with the gospel of more……
……more achievements, more acquisitions, more recognition, more relationships.
We are conditioned to measure our worth by how much we can pile onto our plates. Yet, in the midst of this relentless accumulation, there is a whisper—often faint, sometimes barely audible—that tells us that less can, in fact, be more.
It was during the COVID-19 pandemic, when the world came to a standstill, that I encountered this whisper in human form.
A LinkedIn connection and I, strangers before that moment, agreed to meet at a local coffee house, one of those rare spots still open for business. We sat across from each other, masked and socially distanced, cautiously sipping coffee.
He spoke of his own journey, one marked by success and accolades, yet also a profound discontent that lingered like a shadow. Then, he said something that struck me like a thunderclap: “addition by subtraction.”
He spoke of paring down his life, cutting away the excesses that once seemed essential but had become burdensome. It wasn’t about doing more, but about being more, through less. A seemingly paradoxical idea, yet deeply resonant.
At that moment, I was reminded of Zhuangzi’s allegory of the “useless tree.” This ancient Taoist text tells of a large tree that is scorned by carpenters because its wood is not suitable for making anything useful. But it is precisely this perceived uselessness that allows the tree to grow old and expansive, providing shade and shelter for countless beings.
Zhuangzi’s message is clear: it is not in striving to be useful according to society’s narrow standards that we find our true worth, but in embracing our unique nature, however “useless” it may appear. To be more, we must shed the illusions of what we think we need to be, and find contentment in simply being.
Western philosophy, too, has its advocates for the art of less. Lucretius, the Roman poet-philosopher, extolled the virtues of Epicurean simplicity. For him, the good life wasn’t found in the pursuit of endless pleasure or the accumulation of wealth but in understanding the nature of our desires and learning to let go of those that do not serve our well-being.
His counsel was to align ourselves with the natural world, to understand that peace comes not from adding more layers to our lives but from peeling them back. “All nature cries aloud that it is now free from anguish,” he writes, pointing us to the fact that most of our suffering is self-inflicted, born from our insatiable appetites.
Seneca, the Stoic philosopher, would have nodded in agreement. He, too, warned against the folly of living in constant pursuit of external validations. His prescription for a meaningful life involved a kind of minimalism of the soul—a shedding of unnecessary desires, an acceptance of what cannot be controlled, and a deep focus on cultivating inner virtue.
“It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor,” he reminds us. In the hustle to do more and be more in the eyes of others, we impoverish ourselves, for we lose the richness that comes from living authentically and deliberately.
But what does it mean to live authentically and deliberately? In modern terms, it means moving from the frenetic beta state of constant doing into the alpha state of being.
Les Fehmi’s work on the concept of “Open Focus” offers a physiological and psychological path to this state of being. He discovered that shifting our attention from narrow, goal-oriented focus to a more expansive awareness of space and nothingness allows the brain to transition from the fast-paced beta waves associated with anxiety and task-oriented thinking to the slower, more creative and relaxed alpha waves.
This shift, he argued, was key to reducing stress and enhancing creativity.
Fehmi’s insights echo Carl Jung’s concept of “individuation,” the process of becoming more truly oneself. For Jung, individuation involved a reconnection with the unconscious, an integration of the shadow, and an embracing of the wholeness of the Self.
To achieve this, one must turn inward, away from the distractions and demands of the external world. It requires, paradoxically, the willingness to do less outwardly in order to accomplish more inwardly.
This process is not about striving to meet external standards but about surrendering to one’s own deeper currents, even if those currents run counter to societal expectations.
Reflecting on my own journey, I see how the lesson of addition by subtraction has played out not only in my actions but in my relationships. People have come into my life at crucial junctures, seemingly to deliver a single, vital message, only to vanish soon after.
I used to find this deeply upsetting, feeling abandoned and bewildered by their sudden disappearances. But I have come to understand, through the lens of Taoist philosophy, that their presence, however brief, was not a mistake or a loss.
They were like the falling leaves in autumn, each one contributing to the mulch that enriches the soil for new growth. Their departure was not an ending, but a necessary space-making for something new to emerge.
The lesson, then, is clear: to do less is not to be passive or indifferent. It is to clear the ground, to remove the obstacles of needless striving, and to allow ourselves to be transformed by the quiet power of being.
It is in this space of less—less action, less noise, less clutter—that the fullness of who we are has room to grow. In the end, as both Eastern and Western philosophies suggest, it is in the space of nothingness that we find the potential for everything. It is in our emptiness that we become whole.
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This is a beautiful message for the day. It reminds me of a phrase my husband and I often say to each other: "You have to say no to get to yes." That "yes" - to us at least - is in the big Yes in the Joycean sense, not in the "close a deal" sense. Letting things go opens space for calm, attention, and new possibilities.
I'm reminded of the classic doctor's advice: If you can only choose one thing to improve your health, is it better to start exercises or stop smoking? Obviously, both are great, but removing the negative (smoking) will yield faster and more pronounced benefits for nearly all people.