On discovering meaning through uncertainty, active presence, and patient attention. What I learned folding leggings while my wife battled cancer.

Why are simple things so hard? From homesteading to minimalism, our attempts to simplify often make life more complex. The hack? Know what you value and use that to let go of what doesn’t serve you. Inner simplification comes before external simplification. It’s not easy, but it’s simple.

The other day I ate lunch at a quiet restaurant. The only noises were kitchen sounds and other customers talking. Since music plays in nearly every public space now, this made an impression. We allow most of this bombardment. I'm trying to do something different: choose what deserves my attention and let go of what doesn't. This filtering is what I mean by internal simplification. It goes deeper than decluttering your closet. Real simplification means choosing to pay attention only to what supports what you value. This is hard—not because filtering is complicated, but because you have to know what matters first.

After leaving organized religion, I've been learning to cultivate presence, ritual, and meaning without predetermined answers. Inspired by Annie Dillard, Thoreau, and Rick Rubin, this essay explores how emptiness paradoxically creates fullness—how subtraction opens space for creativity and insight. I've found my own versions of what I valued in faith: presence when painting makes time dissolve, ritual in mixing paints and cleaning brushes, and meaning that emerges through the work itself rather than being handed down. The practice requires releasing certainty to discover what's actually in front of me.