This morass, I thought then, must be a symptom of too much input. Move toward a place so small that everything could be known.
—Kristin Kimball, The Dirty Life
I realize this quote doesn’t make a whole lot of sense on its own. But the phrase “too much input” has stuck with me ever since I read it in Kimball’s lovely memoir on farming and love (along with its words about satisfaction and success).
Kimball found herself overwhelmed by the sheer volume of options in the world – where to live, where to work, whom to date, how to build a life that would sustain and nourish her. She found solace, eventually, by moving to a rural area and focusing on what she could see and feel: an old farmhouse, a few acres, a gaggle of assorted farm animals.
She admits her own folly in thinking she could know everything about her new home: its deep layers of complexity render it still mysterious, a decade later. But as her horizons narrowed in some ways, she found herself living with more intention, more focus, less distraction, even as her to-do list grew by leaps and bounds. (The work on a farm is literally never done; as the granddaughter of two sets of farmers, I watched this truth play out during all my childhood summers.)
I often find myself bewildered, overwhelmed, by the number of possible choices on any given day: where and what to eat, which groceries to buy (Organic? Local? In season? None of the above?), how to dress, which book or blog or tweet to read next. I worry about making the right choices, as if there were one best answer to everything. And everyone, from my family and friends to the great clamoring chorus of the Internet, has an opinion.
Too much input. Maybe, then, the answer is to pull back a little.
I love the community provided by my online life, and I love the vibrancy of working in a bustling city neighborhood. But I need more quiet, less input, more space for pondering and mulling, in my life. I am not sure what that looks like: a social media fast, closing the computer at a certain time every night, going to bed earlier, making more time to journal. Perhaps all of the above.
I am not in a position right now to make a literal move to a smaller place (though I miss the ease of knowing and being known in the small Texas towns where I grew up). But reducing the volume of input, clearing those channels to clear my mind and spirit? That sounds awfully good to me.