I meet clients who come to therapy when they are hanging by a thread. Their careers are unforgiving, academic pressures unrelenting. Parents are walloped by the rigours of child-rearing; others are worn thin caring for aging parents. Responsibilities multiply, but the hours remain few. Despite a profusion of duties, they are weighed down by expectations that their worthiness depends on the skilful execution of every task. They believe that success means mastery in every domain, a deftness that balances competing demands, a composure that transcends the reach of chaos. These impossible expectations rend the psyche. People toil without end, subjecting their bodies and minds to punishing stress. They are afraid of relief because relief is tantamount to failure. These conditions of distress create an epidemic of burnout that exacerbates the mental-health crisis.
One case of burnout is a singular anomaly. Widespread burnout indicates a deeper malaise within a culture. Tacit beliefs shape social norms; organizations codify assumptions and formalize values into practice. The social-cultural systems furnish the conditions that influence wellbeing, individual and collective. Writ large, culture is the very stuff of consciousness, the lifeblood of soul and psyche.
If burnout is a social rather than individual pathology, then we must inquire into the roots of the malaise. To begin, we can look to founding premise of industrialism, in which industriousness is hailed as virtue. To live in industry is to abide the logic of production, to acquiesce to the demands of more. An industry measures its value through production. Health care, education and caregiving are now seen as service industries. Thus, industry forms the organizing principle of social life. The factory that produces computers aims for maximum efficiency and profitability. A worker stands at a conveyer belt for several hours a day soldering components to a circuit board. The repetitive motion of that task reduces the person to a mechanical function. Industry profits when fingers produce more circuit boards per hour. If one day (and that day is already here) management finds more economic means of assembling circuit boards, the worker who is already a crude version of robots will be replaced by actual robots that never error or tire. The same logic of cold efficiency is applied to service industries, with workers seen as service providers, vehicles that deliver units of care. A greater demand for services places a greater burden on these workers, but the logic of industry sees this as a potential improvement in efficiency. If one day (and the day is near or already here), management finds more economic means of delivering care, the service worker will be replaced by artificial intelligence or other robotic substitutes. Afraid of losing her job to a machine, she (for women comprise the majority of service workers) must work harder, faster, better, and for less pay. In doing so, she may stave off unemployment for a while, but her labour comes at the expense of her wellbeing, and the intensity of her toil only reinforces the logic of industry, which is oblivious to limits and indifferent to suffering.
At present, the modern economy is inimical to human well-being. Prices are punishing while employment is precarious. Housing prices are prohibitive. People struggle to stretch a paycheck to the end of the month. Against this background of socio-economic precarity, many are worn thin by duty. They mind their children while caring for elderly parents, even while shouldering the weight of demanding careers. Life bears down on them without mercy, yet they cannot relinquish a task without failing those who depend on them. Vitality bleeds from their spirits, but they are unable to affect change. Such is the vicious trap that ensnares many.
Tired and distraught, many seek help. Unfortunately, the mode in which help is sought and provided is also underwritten by the logic of industry, which produces solutions at scale in response to perceived problems. Its sordid operations seep into every venture, mental health included. There are more self-help books to buy, more mindfulness apps to download, more gurus to follow, more seminars to attend, more blog posts to read (present article included). Some people have sufficient means buy respite in the form of vacations. Hence there are more places to visit, more experiences to accrue. Failing a significant reform that addresses the ailment at its root, we can distract ourselves with entertainment. More movies, TV shows, games, and internet frivolities ad nauseum. We cloy our senses, blind our eyes and saturate our minds. Contrary to their promise, consumable mental-health products and entertaining distractions do not alleviate the fundamental distress that festers from more.
How then do we oppose the diminution of our spirits in the age of more? I suggest that the answer lies in reclamation of simplicity.
Simplicity is both conviction and commitment, a bedrock value that we elect as we undertake this human life. Simplicity is the belief that life itself is enough, that our days are characterized by sufficiency rather than indigence. As a founding premise, simplicity starts from a place of abundance: what we need is amply provided for, but only if we discern need from want. Simplicity dares to look at the present in its unpolished state and sees the richness therein. Wholeness is already certain, nothing further is required. Toil and striving render themselves superfluous, giving way to poise and rest. There is enough to savour in every moment to satisfy a lifetime of searching. Simplicity does not require much of external conditions but basks in the unmerited gift of life: crisp air, cool rain, blue sky. In simplicity, we do not ask more of life; we meet its fullness with clarity and gratitude.
As a point of departure, simplicity countervails the logic of industry with its insatiate hankering for more. This is neither a blind endorsement of idleness, nor a naïve celebration of poverty. Those without access to the bare necessities will need shelter, clothing, food and warmth before entertaining any talk of simplicity. For many others whose basic needs are met, there are bills to pay and jobs to do, so let us apply ourselves with vigour. However, so long as we work from privation, believing that some further external condition will resolve the underlying dissatisfaction, our efforts are doomed to fail. If we see completeness as the starting point, then our work is guided by ease. Vexation and struggle are moot. The embrace of simplicity does not deny the economic realities that circumscribe our lives but orients us in a different plane, and revises how we conceive a good life. We do not need to prove ourselves worthy, nor surpass expectations to find affirmation. We see the goodness of life, exactly as it is. This radical re-orientation countermands the logic of industry, which operates on deficiency, producing more goods and services to compensate a deeper feeling of lack.
A life of simplicity appreciates limits. Premised on sufficiency, simplicity sees every limit as the container in which possibilities find potent expression. Finite hours provide arena for more focussed effort and disciplined commitment. Unlike the logic of industry, which sees time as an obstacle to overcome by maximizing output, simplicity sees time as a facilitator of rich engagement, an invitation to go deep. Because I have a finite store of energy and time for each day’s tasks, I must prioritize my efforts. This is not a dreary compromise that dilutes my agency. Rather, I am a steward of my precious vitality; I bring vibrancy to important work. Each finite hour calls me to my priorities and burnishes my values. Values demand choices. Choices define character. Rather than scurry among many smoldering embers, I stoke one essential fire, and the night is brighter for it.
Simplicity calls us to soften our grip on imperatives. The path lies in less, not more. Because the logic of industry instills a propensity for more work, we struggle to let go of commitments. We believe that something will break if we withdraw our guiding hand. The logic of industry persuades us that industriousness is the only game in town, that our worth is bound to unbridled production. To the contrary, when we spread ourselves too thin, we squander our vitality. This vitality requires our vigilance and thrives on our discernment. Life is not reduced when we say no to things; it flourishes under our undivided devotion to what is essential.
We do not need more apps that teach us mindfulness. We only need to be mindful of life in the present moment, exactly as it is. Few of us need more seminars to further furnish our expertise; we need only to integrate what we know, so that declarative knowledge becomes living wisdom. The path through simplicity is marked by slowness and ease. In relinquishing excess, we find spaciousness. Through the course of a slower day, reflection and stillness rise like fragrance in the spring air, carrying notes of gratitude for the unmerited gift of life. We need not search far for this boon; it is not a mystery that eludes us. Every breath invites us to return to the marvel of life in the immediate now. We already have everything we need.