Simplicity, transition, and the never-ending evolution

Organizing is one of my sister’s favorite things to do. Growing up, we were required to keep our rooms fairly clean. We would be asked weekly, at least, to tidy up. However, on many occasions without being asked, my sister would go on a cleaning rampage.

I would walk across the hall to her room and discover I could only crack the door open approximately 1.12 inches. Peering through the narrow gap, I would find her sitting in the middle of her room, in total disarray, with a giant smile on her face.

Everything was pulled out of it’s place, out of boxes, and off the shelves—it was time to reorganize, to shift, and to simplify. Often the path to simplification requires taking everything down and starting fresh.

That’s exactly how I feel with my new strategy. Just this week, I took down every page and section on my website. Right now, there is only one page.

In our culture, we talk a lot about simplification. We are currently in an era obsessed with minimalism, local foods, and simple mechanism. (For which, I am personally a huge proponent!) Within each generation, there are bursts of expansion and contraction. Expansion creates more complexity and chaos. Contraction reduces down to the essentials and brings with it clarity.

But simplicity is HARD. It requires reduction. Reduction requires process. And process requires transition. It’s all very…uncomfy.

It’s like being 14 again. There’s a terrible picture of me at 8th grade graduation wearing a dress my mom (very lovingly) made for me. I’m standing there with a smile that masks just how much I hate wearing that damn dress—no offense mom! My hair is pulled back as tight and as slick as it would go (yes, I believed that was my most excellent look) and my arms and legs extend out from the dress like a scrawny baby giraffe wearing a moo moo. It was the day I lost my 14 year battle with my mom over wearing dresses.

In many ways, I feel that way in my business right now. Awkward and gangly. Naive enough to take risks and self-aware enough to know there’s something at stake. When we’re searching for that right stuff—the stuff that turns a girl into a graceful woman, the stuff that resonates with you and your people, or the stuff that provides stability without sacrificing sustainability—it takes time.

We must be willing to get a little messy, to weather the chaos and complexity, and hold steady during the uncomfy bits in order to find the good stuff. Simplicity and clarity will come, but only after the complexity and chaos.

Warmly,
Erin

P.S. I’ve decided what I am making next! Hooray! Through a combination of email and web, I am designing a self-guided digital experience around my process—formerly known as Cultivate—on defining and discovering Great Patrons. You can read (a tiny bit) more on my tiny website. I’ll be sharing what I learn with you as I go.