Last night I dreamt that I was trying to write a case note, when my co-worker said to me, stick to the KISS principle. I struggled. Information, Support, Service, but what does the K stand for? Konnect?
Keep it Simple, Stupid.
Ah, if only I could. If only I would. I really really should. Why on earth am I having to remind myself, in my own dreams, to keep it simple? Stupid. How easily I, like you, befuddle and make things mean so much more than they are? How easily do we take the more difficult route to get anywhere?
I am a great believer in not reinventing the wheel. I am more than happy to enhance what already exists, build on what is. I feel absolutely no compulsion to have everything done my way. And yet? And yet. I still find that I weave my own story into everything I do, whether it began there or not.
Is that not the human condition? Is that not how we frame and contextualise our lives by creating stores of meaning out of what simply is? If we did not, if we did not create complexity, create meaning in our lives, would we then be content with the simple truths. Of course we must then ask, what is truth? Is ‘truth’ simply complexity to create meaning where there was none. Is ‘truth’ simply created meaning? Is it not our drive to create meaning, in an attempt to understand, what consumes us from our physically individual entry into the world?
If it is our physicality that manifests our individuality, then any meaning is part of that physicality, rather than that which lights us up and animates us and connects us all. Without our physicality, we would be one. We would not be. There would be no I, nor you, and never we. There would be nothing. Simply being.
And, there I go again. I can write screeds of the winding threads inside my brain that I follow to ascertain meaning. Keep it simple, I said. Stupid. Alright. I’ll tell you what I find most appealing and the simplest understanding my story can create: Life is empty and meaningless.
Isn’t that great? Life is empty and meaningless. There is no story. There are no threads to follow. There is nothing to unravel. There is only…nothing. Ahhhh. So restful, so peaceful. Damn! There I go again. Life is empty and meaningless. Relax.
Any threads I therefore choose to pick up, unravel, re-weave, and create into stories are my choice, my decisions, my responsibilities. If I choose to create complexities from the tales I weave, then that is my choice. To those who complain that I make things too complicated, certainly I do. I like to think about things and look at them from every perspective. This enables me to consider all aspects and yes, it may get a little knotty at times but in the end, in the end it unravels and I re-weave it into a whole, a gossamer beauty that rivals the stars within. If I may be so bold.
It is from this gazing upon stars, the unravelling and re-weaving that the words fall upon the page and settle lightly, so lightly down that the most ponderous thoughts become feathers. If my heaviest thoughts are but feathers, they do not weigh me down but lift me up as if I have wings where I might marvel and my words sing.
Keep it Simple, Stupid. No, not I. I don’t want to keep it simple. Oh, my life is for living, I will sleep when I am dead (though I do like many hours snoring in my bed). I work hard and have many commitments to meet and when I sit in my chair or my swing seat and stare into the sky or the leafy green, it is the complexity of Life that I ponder and See. I see the myriad, interwoven strands, like star dust across the sky, the tiny thump of life in a leaf or that dang mozzie larvae in my pot (meant for fish but the Currawongs ate them). How is that not complex?
There is nothing simple about the lives we lead or the world we live in, natural or made. There is nothing simple about the companions of our lives, family, friends, furred or finned. There is nothing simple, except, except those moments when all is still in me and I feel, our oneness. Then, in those moments is simplicity to be found, breathed in, held, light and flickering.
When the Light within no longer lights me up and animates me, then I will let go of physicality, of individuality, of complexity. Then, oh then, I will step into Simplicity.
Until then, I will not keep it simple. Stupid.
(c) CLHHarper April 2014