My youngest daughter’s favorite foods are spaghetti and cheese. Her favorite meal is spaghetti with “red sauce” and mounds of parmesan cheese on top. She always wants to put the parm on herself, and when I tell her to stop, that she’s got too much, she tells me “I like too much!”
I get it. I like too much too.
I am not a minimalist. On one hand, I am deeply drawn to the ideas of simplicity and essentialism. On the other hand, I really like stuff.
I realize that what I am confessing is not a good thing, and definitely not a trendy thing to admit publically. There are strong and wise voices speaking out against excess and consumerism, and I am so grateful for these voices. This awareness makes it even harder to admit the truth of my natural desire for too much.
Although I wish it wasn’t true, I know that I am naturally more prone to excess than restraint. I like variety in my clothes, stacks of books, and fun shoes. I like my schedule full and my house bursting with people. It’s not just externally; I tend toward excess internally too. I love ideas and information. I have big feelings and care about….almost everything. My inner landscape can be pretty wild. Sometimes I exhaust myself.
I do know that I’m not alone in this. We are constantly inundated with binge behavior, with encouragement to watch one more episode, commit to one more thing, drink one more glass of wine, buy one more sweater at an incredible price. I am not the only one who finds consumerism tempting, who values simplicity but finds it very hard to practice. I’m not the only one being pulled into rush and busyness and excess.
Yet this time of year I always feel the pull to slow down. The shorter days, the cold weather, and the heaviness of Advent all whisper to me, calling me in and calming me down. It’s ironic, because Christmas so often seems like a season of excess, of noise and lights and expectations and obligations.
And I love it all, because I like too much. Well, I like too much until I don’t. Until I have a stomach ache, a giant bill, or a giant mess. Until I am so tired I cannot keep going and I find myself snapping at the people I love the most and longing for bed time. I like too much until it becomes too much.
So this year I am looking for ways to find the right amount. To feast on all the season brings but in a way that also leaves space for rest, for quiet, and for stillness. In a way that is responsible and healthy for myself and my family
I’ve been thinking about what I can do practically to try and find that balance, to find the right amount that brings joy without the emotional hangover. I’m intentionally limiting the input I allow into my life. For the days surrounding Christmas, I am limiting social media, turning off the news, and generally limiting screens. I want to be fully present, and that requires ruthlessly eliminating distractions and quieting some of the superfluous noise that constantly surrounds me.
This year I tried to work ahead as much as possible, so that the days surrounding the holiday can be more about being than about doing. I don’t want to visit any stores (in person or online) in the days leading up to and following Christmas. I’ve got puzzles and books and crafts and lots of hot chocolate on hand for Christmas break.
I’ve said no to a few things I would have liked to say yes to, to helping at a Christmas party, bringing food to an event, and visiting a dear friend. I’ve said no to good things so that I can say yes to the most important things.
This mindfulness and intentionality is still a new skill for me. Some of these strategies may work great and others may need to be tweaked or abandoned all together. My hope is that they help me find the balance between enough and too much. That I learn to savor each bite of a treat, truly appreciate each gift, and choose an inner stillness.