Let's Do Less

I spent a lot of this summer thinking about doing less.

Which is funny because, if I’m being honest, I also spent a lot of this summer doing… quite a lot.

There was Italy with Phoebe. Beach days with friends. Getting her off to camp. A concert road trip to meet friends and see Qveen Herby. Crabbing. Boat rides. Working behind the scenes on Wrecking Ball Revolution. Building programs. Writing emails. Creating social media. Navigating changes to timelines and plans.

There were things I expected. And plenty that I didn’t.

In other words, it was summer.

Messy and beautiful and full and, at times, a little bit chaotic.

But somewhere along the way, I kept coming back to the same thought:

What if we stopped trying to fit it all in?

The Italian summer I didn’t know I needed

When Phoebe and I went to Italy, we didn’t do it like a tour.

We didn’t race from historical destination to historical destination or wake up every morning with a strict itinerary designed to make sure we got the absolute most out of every single day.

Instead, we had an Italian summer.

We ate gelato. (A lot of gelato.)

We spent sunny days by the sea and hours in the water. We wandered. We lingered. We adjusted plans. We let some days unfold without knowing exactly where they were going.

And because we weren’t trying to squeeze everything in, we actually got to experience what we were doing.

We got to taste the gelato. Really taste it.

We got to sit in the sun without immediately wondering where we needed to be next. We got to spend hours in the sea because there wasn’t something more important waiting on the other side of the afternoon.

We didn’t see everything. But I don’t think we missed much. And I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

Because how often do we approach our actual lives the exact opposite way?

We try to fit it all in:

• The goals.
• The work.
• The relationships.
• The projects.
• The things we’re genuinely excited about.
• The things we feel obligated to do.
• The things we’re doing because we’re good at them.
• The things we’re doing because nobody else has stepped up.

And before we know it, we’re wearing so many hats and moving in so many directions that we’re never really anywhere.

We’re half in and half out of everything.

Maybe the problem isn’t that we need to manage it all better

I think we often try to solve overwhelm by becoming better at managing more…

• We need a better system.
• A better schedule.
• A new planner.
• More discipline.
• Better boundaries.
• A more productive morning routine.

And listen, I love a good system. Structure can be incredibly helpful—especially during transitions.

But sometimes the problem isn’t that we haven’t figured out how to manage it all.

Maybe there’s just too much.

I know. Not exactly groundbreaking. And yet, here we are.

Trying to optimize lives that may simply need to be edited.

I’ve been looking at this in my own life as we head into a new season.

My part of Wrecking Ball Revolution is done. The manuscript is complete, and now the book is moving through the next stages with the team.

Originally, the book was supposed to be released in September.

Now, it will be released in January.

And while part of me has had to navigate the feelings around letting go of my original plan, another part of me immediately went into: Okay. What can we do now?

So this summer, alongside the team, I’ve been doing everything I possibly can to get ready behind the scenes.

Emails. Programs. Social media. Planning. Building. Preparing.

Trying to make sure that when January gets here, we’re ready–I’m proud of that.

But I’ve also had to ask myself:

Just because there is more I can do, does that mean I need to do it?

Because I can always find another thing to work on.

Another idea to develop.

Another post to create.

Another project to launch.

Another way to prepare.

I’m capable. So are you, probably. And that can actually be part of the problem.

When you’re capable, there will always be more you could do.

That doesn’t mean all of it deserves your time.

Doing less doesn’t mean wanting less

This is important to me because when I say, “Let’s do less,” I don’t mean let’s become less ambitious.

I don’t mean dream smaller. I don’t mean stop caring. I don’t mean abandon the things that matter to you and move to Italy to eat gelato for the rest of your life.

Although, let’s be honest, I’m not completely opposed to exploring that option 😉

I mean something else.

What if doing less allowed us to do what matters better?

What if, instead of spreading ourselves across ten different priorities, we chose a few and gave them our full attention?

What if, instead of constantly adding to our plate, we started asking what could come off?

What if we stopped measuring our lives by how much we can hold and started paying attention to the quality of how we’re actually showing up?

Because when we’re spread too thin, nothing gets done particularly well.

We might be technically moving ten different balls forward, but we’re doing it while thinking about the other nine.

We’re working while worrying about everything we’re not getting done.

We’re with people we love while mentally checking our to-do list.

We’re trying to relax while feeling guilty that we should be productive.

We’re trying to focus while being pulled in six different directions.

And then we wonder why we feel exhausted.

At some point, more becomes dilution.

And maybe doing less isn’t about creating an easier life.

Maybe it’s about creating a life you can actually fully participate in.

Before you get on the next rollercoaster…

Every year, there seems to be a moment when summer starts winding down and we collectively prepare to get our lives back together…

School starts.

Schedules return.

Calendars fill up.

Fall arrives with its own particular brand of, Okay, let’s get serious now.

And structure is helpful.

Schedules are helpful.

Routines are helpful.

But before you start organizing everything outside of yourself, I want to offer a different kind of check-in.

Before you get on the next rollercoaster—or maybe before you jump off one rollercoaster and immediately hop onto the next one—pause for a minute.

Ask yourself:

What am I carrying right now?

What actually matters to me in this next season?

What am I doing because I want to—and what am I doing because I’ve always done it, because I can, or because I think I should?

Where am I spread too thin?

What needs to come off my plate before I put anything else on it?

That last question has been especially important for me.

Because this summer also reminded me what it feels like to loosen my grip on the plan a little.

To be surprised by life again. To leave room for an unexpected adventure in an ordinary place–A concert road trip. An afternoon on a boat. Going crabbing. A day without an agenda.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I found myself paying closer attention to the difference between joy and constantly managing my nervous system around someone or something.

I think sometimes we become so accustomed to managing, anticipating, planning, and preparing that we don’t realize how much energy it takes until we experience something different.

Something lighter.

Something more joyful.

Something that doesn’t require us to be constantly braced for what’s coming next.

And maybe that’s another reason to do less.

Not just so we can rest.

But so we have enough room to notice what else might be possible.

Let’s do less. And let’s do it well.

I’m not writing this from the other side of some perfectly curated, minimalist life.

I’m writing it as someone who is actively looking at her own plate and asking what actually belongs there.

As someone who loves big ideas and meaningful work and who is capable of doing a lot. But most especially as someone who is learning that capability isn’t always an invitation.

Just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should.

Just because I can carry something doesn’t mean it’s mine to carry.

Just because I have room on my calendar doesn’t mean I have room in my life.

And just because I have another idea doesn’t mean it needs to become another project.

I’m still figuring out what doing less looks like.

But I know this:

I want to be present enough to taste the gelato. Focused enough to do the things that matter well, open enough to be surprised by life, and discerning enough to know that I don’t have to do everything.

Neither do you.

So as we move into this next season, maybe the question isn’t:

How can I fit it all in?

Maybe the better question is:

What if I didn’t have to?

Let’s do less.

And let’s do it well.