More. Or Less.

We’re all fungible. Replaceable. Basically commodities. Or so said a friend in the context of who was going to play in a pickleball game. I couldn’t argue.

But it got me thinking. Aren’t we supposed to be unique and irreplaceable?

So I asked myself, and I ask you, who’s irreplaceable to you? And to whom are you irreplaceable? I’m not talking about the hair stylist who does a better job than anyone else ever could. I’m talking about the person whose absence would carve a hole in your heart that would never heal. An absence so profound it would make you a different person and alter the trajectory of your life.

While I left those questions to percolate in my brain, I went to see my friend, Ray, for a golf lesson.

Ray is a true gentleman. He’s eighty-nine years old and knows more about the golf swing than anyone I’ve met. We didn’t meet in the playground when we were kids. We met on the driving range about twenty-five years ago when he approached me and asked “Would you mind if I make a suggestion to you?”  That was the beginning of our teacher-pupil relationship and also the beginning of a great friendship. That’s what golf does.

Ray watched me swing a few times, shook his head and said “Your legs are too active. Less is more.” I knew what he meant. He was right. Like always. I made the change and started hitting the ball better. But it was his comment about less being more that sparked something in my brain.

I’d been thinking about less being more  for a few weeks since I shared a podcast episode with my friend, Lynne. It was full of things she and I refer to as nuggets, useful advice for living better lives.  (It was Tim Ferriss’ interview of Elizabeth Gilbert. You can listen to it here.)

Lynne texted me back with a few of the nuggets she liked best. I remembered some of them, but not all. And that struck me.

Our culture is all about more, more, more. I submit to it, too. When I do something, I go all in. If some is good, more must be better.

But here I was, missing important nuggets. Why wasn’t I paying proper attention to what I was listening to? Was I tuning out because I was listening to too many podcasts? How much was I missing?

I searched for answers by analyzing other areas of my life in which I was applying the more is better principle. I’m nothing if not logical. Was I making my golf swing worse by trying too many new things to make it better? Did I injure myself by trying too hard to do a particular yoga pose? It didn’t take me long to conclude that more is better isn’t necessarily the best approach.

That’s not to say more is better is all bad. It’s yielded a lot of benefits for me. But it WAS impacting me negatively in certain ways so I needed to consider how to move forward. I wouldn’t call it an existential crisis, but it was something worth thinking about because I try to live my life in a way that’ll make me happiest.

I don’t have time to sit in a cave and think about things like this. I also don’t have a cave. What I usually do is put them aside in my brain and let them percolate while I do other things. (You may remember my brain was a bowl full of twisted spaghetti noodles/thoughts in my last post. Today it’s the world’s most organic coffee pot.)

Since the podcast I sent to Lynne was what triggered this, I decided to start there. I asked myself why listening to so many podcasts was important to me. The answer came quickly. I was searching for nuggets to make my life better. But was listening to so many podcasts helpful or hurtful?

I was reminded of a conversation I had with my friend and yoga teacher Andy before he died. (You can read my post about him here.) We were talking about books. I asked him what type of book he liked to read. He told me he had a list of books he loved and he read them over and over again. He never got tired of them because he learned something new each time he read them. (If you had to pick one book to read over and over again, what would it be?)

Cole was like that with certain TV shows and movies. He had favourites he’d watch multiple times. I remember asking him questions about Mad Men or Game of Thrones and his answers would start with “Remember back in episode 3 of Season 2 when such and such happened…” I missed all the little nuances he picked up on. He was getting so much more out of the shows while I watched on a superficial level.

One thing I’m realizing with increasing frequency as I get older is the number of blatantly obvious things I’ve failed to notice that have been staring me in the face for a long time. This was one of them.

I’ve been too focused on more. I don’t need to choose between more and less. They’re not mutually exclusive. Sometimes I can choose more and other times I can choose less. Or I can choose somewhere in between. The important thing is to find the right balance. And that balance isn’t carved in stone. It changes with time and circumstances.

So I’m making some changes. It’s time to simplify things. In some cases, I’ll be going deep instead of wide. I started by relistening to the Elizabeth Gilbert episode. Then I went through my list of “Podcast Episodes To Listen To” and cut it down to sixteen from fifty six. I’m only going to listen to the ones I like the most. Some of them I’ll listen to more than once. I’ll get more out of them that way. Same with books.

And I won’t be chasing the perfect golf swing anymore, either. Ray always tells me I’m analyzing too much. He wants me to concentrate on one or two big things because they’ll have a trickle down effect on a bunch of little things. We joke that I’m an idiot because I overthink the golf swing so much. Well, at least I’m joking.

I’m still pondering other changes. More? Or less? Where’s the balance? What will be best?

The most important change I’ve made is one that was so obvious to even me that I became aware of it a while ago. Spending time with friends and family is what I enjoy most. Especially the people who are irreplaceable to me and to whom I think I’m irreplaceable. So I’ve been spending more time with my good friends and family. (I read a great piece about this. It’s a fun read and it’s an eye opener. You can read it here. )

I’m sure there are other changes I’ll make as I continue to consider whether I should do more or less of the things I do, but I feel I’m off to a good start. I don’t need to make every possible change right away. That’s just not the way things are going to be.

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4 thoughts on “More. Or Less.

  1. Thoughtful and thought-provoking as usual. I appreciate being on this communication. With my best regards and good wishes for peaceful times as best as possible.
    Sent from my iPhone

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  2. Thanks Michael, you’ve planted quite a few golden nuggets in here.

    Take your question, which begs another question (I’ve had to think about these too): “Did I injure myself by trying too hard to do a particular yoga pose?” Now I’m learning, trying to learn to ask: what is the pose trying to do for me? do I even know what the pose actually is? Then there’s my profoundly patient guitar teacher, Mike. He teaches smallest movements, smallest changes; he’s thrilled if I spend a week practicing 2 notes, even one note; to learn how to make it juicy in time and texture. Hard work, can be exhausting. So yes, your observations resonate, less is more. Really appreciate your thinking and willingness to share it. Cheers Hilary

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