From the extraordinarily challenging and seemingly endless year of 2020, here’s what I’m carrying into 2021: the power of doing less, and doing it lightly.
Like many other people, I found the cascade of intensity in 2020 left me both overwhelmed and fatigued. Things I loved, like project design, yoga, or crafts, got hard. Things I didn’t love, like time tracking, housecleaning, or saying no to an argumentative child, were even harder. And of course, the harder things got, the more frustrated I got with myself--a vicious cycle.
I’d heard about the value of keeping goals manageable: the agile structure of short cycles and small steps, and BJ Fogg’s helpful book Tiny Habits.
But it wasn’t until a friend suggested a 30-day ten-minute yoga challenge that I really tried it on. It seemed ridiculous, on the face of it, that after so many years of yoga all I could muster was 10 minutes. I had to let go of that voice. Which was good since I didn’t even complete the 30-day challenge in 30 days. But I did a little yoga on a lot of days. And surprisingly, I was able to appreciate that small accomplishment.
From there, I explored other online workouts. I found myself losing interest when they took over 15 minutes. With my newfound power, I cut them in half.
I began using the small bites approach both for things that I wanted to do but couldn’t muster energy for, and for things I didn’t want to do. I used tiny things at work for the projects I resist. I’d often end up getting hooked and spending longer on them.
For a craft project, it was enough if one day I just laid out the materials. For housecleaning, I began adding one tiny thing after cleaning up the kitchen--and found myself getting curious about what might spark my interest each night.
I even used it with my kids. I have a strong-willed child with whom saying no can be a lengthy ordeal. I began to pay attention to how I say no and stick to it on smaller items, building up my comfort level for the big stuff.
This new perspective brought a greater sense of exploration, and less self-judgment. Toward the end of the year, I came across Kate Northrup’s book, Do Less. I appreciated her insights about living with greater ease, including asking questions such as
“What can I do to make this day easier?” and
“Does this need to be done? By me? Right now?” and
“Is there a way I could get the desired result here with fewer action steps or fewer
elements or in less time?”
Her thinking aligns with the notion of taking smaller bites—as well as suggesting that some things don’t need to be bitten off at all.
Tiny things have made a big difference. But there’s an important caveat. I didn’t try to use them to force myself through things. That’s so 2019.
I used tiny increments to spark energy, not force it. The housecleaning became a chance to be curious: what would be most satisfying to do, even if I only spent 5 minutes on it? Practicing saying no with my child became an experiment in what made it possible to hold the line. Putting out some fabric and a pair of scissors meant that next time I passed them, they might entice me to come and play.
Play may be the secret ingredient here. Gwen Gordon, a leader in the power of play, was recently interviewed on the podcast The Recess Life. She commented that the value we place on getting things done is a social construct.
What if, she asked, value were defined from a more life-affirming, less mechanistic perspective? What if the way we determine value is how well we are able to stay in the flow of life, to share energy, to keep the spark alive?
How might our lives and our relationships to work and our colleagues change if we sought to keep the spark alive and keep passing it around instead of checking things off a list? For me, doing less, and doing it lightly, is serving as that small flame. I invite you to ponder what it might look like for you.