Simplify

Thoreau to the Rescue

We are in Nantucket, not in the rambling wreck of a house we rented for 28 years but a different one, rife with delights and inconveniences. Its hodgepodge is a dramatic departure from my pared-down style back home, where everything is stripped down to only what is absolutely necessary, like the ghost of Thoreau perched on my shoulder, whispering Simplify.

We are staying in the village of Sconset, which is almost surreal in its New Englandy quaintness. Despite the clutter, this house feels happy, easy, served with sides of wrap-around porch and an ocean view. Over the four days we’ve been here, we have yet to turn on the TV. Where could it possibly take us that would be better than here, now?

Well, okay, maybe someplace less weirdly disorganized.

To give you some idea, in this small room I’ve designated as my writing space, there is an unplugged wine refrigerator, five rickety side tables, a couch, coffee table, three ottomans, a lamp shaped like a starfish and another one shaped like a shell. A wooden whale dangles from a rope around a ceiling rafter. Outside, in the foreground, manicured hedges and hydrangeas of every hue, and just beyond, the sea.

I wake up toggling between the muddle within these walls and the unequivocal beauty without. In the disconnect I can’t find anything urgent to write about, but I did find the coffee filters, and my phantom friend Thoreau, who had some excellent advice for me. Go downstairs and make the coffee, he said. And, while you’re at it, Simplify. Done, and done.