Noun Count—Things

Things, our third form of noun, are the most obvious complexity boosters. Most of us know by now that we donʼt own things; they own us! They dictate what we do. From toaster ovens, CDs, and cars…to porch furniture, old skis, and new shoes, each item must be acquired, moved,maintained, thrown away, gifted, stored or sold, and, often, used from time to time. And I have found one thing tends to attract others, like a magnet attracts paper clips. There is a multiplier effect. If I buy a bike, soon I need all the gear that bikers accumulate. A new dress or suit requires a new set of accessories. At some point, closets overflow, bookshelves are crowded, attics are filled. A garage sale is required, or a storage unit somewhere. Meanwhile our hours melt into days, weeks, months, years. 

Do we need things? Sure, some. Same with friends and places. But for the sincere, simplicity seeker, pruning these three is fundamental. Try trimming your personal noun count and see if you are comfortable with the additional sunlight.

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Big Breakfast

Tahoe Tessie prepares to gobble up a boy...er, buoy. This is a rare shot of  Tessie on the beach. She seldom arises from the depths of Lake Tahoe, but perhaps she was hungry.

Tahoe City on Dwellable

Noun Count—Places

Places, a second kind of noun, also add complexity to living. If we have one place—say, home—we are at a basic level. If we have a home and a nearby boat or plane, our life is somewhat less simple. If we have a home and a boat and a condo somewhere else, we climb to an even more complex level. No matter how quaint or small the additional places, we have more with which to deal. Each and every place demands some attention, including just getting back and forth. In short, concentrating on a single location is simpler than popping around. But, some claim, there is so much to see and learn “over there.” Is there? Perhaps. Ben Franklin observed in 1734: “Those who travel heedlessly from place to place…set out fools and will certainly return so.” 

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Noun Count—Persons

Let’s start with persons. Each person we know requires at least a little time and energy from us. “Hi. How are you?” Friends, as such, take more time and energy than mere acquaintances. Keeping in touch with friends, for example, can run the gamut from phoning them occasionally to having them to dinner in your home. Closer friends and often, family members, typically involve even greater investments. At a bare minimum we try to drop each one a note or greeting card from time to time. Others we visit. Doing so may be a chore or a joy; either way, planning and execution are required. The same is true when people visit us. 

Add it up. The more persons in our lives, the more complicated our lives. This is not an argument for dumping friends or relatives; it is one small beacon of light on why our time flies. Complexity gobbles minutes…hours…days. One of the main reasons people seek to simplify is that they find they don’t have enough time to do the things they really want to do.

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Simplicity

Many people I know are on a quest to simplify their lives. Their reasons vary.

I have been working on simplicity for a long time. Like exercising, simplifying takes a continuing effort, but I do get a touch of bliss when occasionally I win a small victory in the duel with complexity. After many years, my conclusion is that the single, best way to pursue simplicity is to lower one’s noun count.

A noun, you will recall, is a person, place, or thing. A noun is the object or subject of a verb. Nouns and verbs go together. We each take actions, described with verbs, on our nouns. The more nouns we live with, the more actions we must take—or are at least consider taking. The more actions we take or contemplate, the more complex our lives. “I’m so busy.” When we reduce our noun counts, we simplify our lives. There is no better way. Fewer nouns, more simplicity.

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What Cards Have You Been Dealt?

One of psychologists' standard bromides is, "You have to play the cards you have been dealt." This follows another standard: "The life you had planned is not the life you got. You have to live the life you got." This all seems clever and, I think, semi-useful, but it leaves the receiver hanging: So, now that I know that, what do I do? It brings to mind the other, all-purpose observation: Retirement (or old age) ain't for sissies! After all this sort of thing, I find I know very little more about how to take on the challenges presented by these days of spouse sickness; plenty of money to spend but nothing to spend it on besides medical juju; long, empty days in limbo; and just plain ennui. So I thought I would look more carefully at the cards I have been dealt.

The Ace is easy: My timing was good in my date of birth, through no effort of my own. I do believe that the years since the mid 1930s have been unique, an apogee of mankind where self-reliance and individualism flourished along with a neighborly network (government) that was still working for citizens rather than self-preservation.

The Queen is also easy: I married one—the homecoming queen of 1957. And I lived happily ever after...even though the current, golden years are regularly wrenching.

Next, the Jack of all trades: There has been no end to opportunities over the last sixty years. "Health, wealth, love, and the time to enjoy it." That was the toast made by my bride (speaking in Spanish) at our wedding reception. And it has been reality for us for over fifty years.

How about the Ten, the Ten of Hearts? The ten is something of a mixed bag even though it is still a high-value card. I think it could represent decision points, down times, or even peak experiences, all of which accumulate for us over the years and, hopefully, form a rich mosaic that is more bright than dreary, happy than sad. We can chat about the Ten more, later.

The low card is a Three of Hearts. In the dealt hand the Three represents the time when the wheels come off the wagon, the mast breaks on the sailboat, the trajectory of life is interrupted by uncontrollable diseases or personal system failures, or some other tsunami hits and turns life inside out, upside down. What does one do when dealt a Three, even a Three of Hearts?

Looking at the hand above, any poker player will recognize some alternatives. The holder of the hand has at least a Flush—all hearts—that may be a winning hand at the table of life. So, he or she can hold—live with the hand received. Or, perhaps he or she can draw a new card in hopes of exchanging the Three for a King of Hearts, which would make a Royal Flush, a hand that can't be beat. Or the holder can fold—toss in the cards and stop playing. Give up. Game over.

As singer Kenny Rogers put it in his song, The Gambler, "...you have to know when to hold, know when to fold, know when to walk away and know when to run." But he doesn't say when.

Aurora Borealis

The summer solstice approaches (June 20). Aurora is Latin for Goddess of the dawn--the lights; Borealis means northern. This solstice marks the farthest north the sun will travel, hence we will have our longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. The lights are visible in the night sky at high latitudes, e.g. in Alaska and Sweden.

I have always looked forward to the summer solstice; it's symbolic. The sun turns around and heads south over the next six months, or so it seems. Maybe other things will turn around, too...for better or worse. Whoever said "change is the only constant" got it right.

There is also an Aurora Australis—the southern lights.

Hole in Storm

I am continuing to learn, sort of, how to alter my life to accommodate this new road I had not chosen. I have often thought that I was not given classes nor lessons on how to be a wife, nor a mother, both things that I eagerly sought, and I jumped into with both feet.  But this caregiver role was not sought, but it has became an extension of my role as wife. So I put one foot in front of the other, try to keep a stiff upper lip, try to keep calm and carry on, and hope to do my best. The problem is I sometimes get angry, or say things I wish I hadn't; then I feel guilty, and cry, and I am aware that I have not yet arrived at the worse part.....whatever and whenever that will be. It reminds me of author Ernie Gann's quote:  I'm clinging to the wreckage. Good grief! I had not intended to spill all around....I am just babbling.    Best I remember another quote: It's not the load that breaks you down, it's how you carry it.

Cheese Head

The name of this head of land on the Oregon coast is the same as a brand of cheese. Can you guess it?

Gold Nugget (large)

This is a raw piece of gold from the mythical Lost Cement Mine located somewhere in the Sierra. It is in the vicinity of the Owen headwaters. There may be some clues to follow in this blog.