From Here to Better

The Art of Simplicity

Today was a bitter 20 degrees, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. But I was warm, wrapped in gloves, an ear cover and coat, shielded just enough to sit comfortably and take in the moment. And yet, I found myself drawn to one of my favorite places—a body of water. But it wasn’t just any water. This was his water. One of his favorite places. The place where my late uncle spent years fishing, enjoying the quiet, finding his own kind of peace.

He was my safe place, a steady presence in my life. And whenever I’m here, I feel him. As if he’s still beside me, whispering that I’ll be okay.

I sat on the dock, letting the stillness settle around me, listening to Audible, and simply existing. Simplicity. How divine.

As I watched the geese, the ducks, and the seagulls glide effortlessly across the water, I realized how rare these moments are—true stillness, true pause. Most people wouldn’t brave the cold to experience it, but maybe that’s why it felt so necessary. I’ve never been one for winter, but today, I needed the water. His water. I needed the space to just be, to step out of my head and into the quiet.

We spend so much time worrying about the past or planning for the future that we forget about now. The moment we’re in. But life is happening in real-time, right in front of us. And when we allow ourselves to just be—to listen, to feel, to exist without expectation—we find something rare. Peace. Clarity. A deep, unshakable sense of presence.

There’s something healing in simplicity. In choosing to be present. In letting go of everything except the moment in front of you. We spend so much time chasing, fixing, building—but how often do we just stop? Breathe? Allow ourselves to simply be? Stillness forces reflection, and in that pause, we find clarity.

Maybe simplicity is the answer more often than we think. Maybe it’s not about always moving forward, but about learning to fully exist where we are.

Here’s to better.

Best,
Kate