“More is more” has been a mantra that I am not necessarily proud of. I say these words in conversation; they function as a concise explanation. I say, for example, “I walked an average of 4.5 miles per day in May.” Or “I want to hike the entire Lower Peninsula of Michigan.” When the person I am speaking with looks at me quizzically, I respond, “more is more,” as if those words explain everything.
When I make a cup of coffee, it has the same amount of caffeine as a pot. More is more. When I liked beer, my favorite was Founders’ Dirty Bastard, a big, malty, strong 8.3 scotch ale. More is more. There are very few surfaces in my home free of pots or sculptures; wall space is covered with art, floor to ceiling. More is more. See?
Yesterday, I was annoyed with a guy at the AT&T store who chipped my glass screen protector when he applied it to my phone. I asked him about it, and he told me it wasn’t broken. I thought he was lying but not sure enough to call him out. He lied. Hours later, I was headed back to the store to voice my displeasure and found myself in a forest preserve instead. Thank goodness.
The irritation melted away as I started wandering around this familiar patch of forest. It was near dusk, a noisy time to be in the woods. The day critters are active as they share a little time with the night-loving animals.
It was loud and green. Suddenly green, many shades dotted with bits of color from wildflowers. I felt calm, but I wasn’t inspired to take pictures. Instead, I wandered, simply thinking about life in 2021.
I haven’t seen live music in months. A year? More? I used to try very hard to limit my music adventures to once a week at The Law Office. Once, on an especially great week, I was there five nights in a row. More is more. I don’t see my friends anymore. I haven’t been to the cabin in Michigan more than half a dozen times since Covid became part of our vocabulary. My officemate moved out, so I work alone. The landscape of 2021 is uncharted. Stark.
I noticed this violet against the dead leaves and realized the color is exquisite against the noncolor. The flower is stunning in a field of brown. The neutral colors are like negative space, large margins or silence. The dead browns contrast the living violet, and that contrast punctuates the beauty.
Kind of like 2021.
Maybe the stripping away of activities, people and distractions leaves us with larger margins. There is more space around the things that matter. The things that are left may affect us more deeply, powerfully. Maybe I have been wrong. Maybe less is more?
Better yet, More LESS is still more, right? I think more (less) is a worthy goal.