There’s an important lesson prominent in many eastern philosophies like Buddhism: you are not your thoughts. Easy to say and, well, think, but hard to put into practice.

Identifying with our thoughts and feelings is messy. The more we consider our thoughts important and that all our feelings are meaningful, the more we are overwhelmed, frustrated, and confused. We lose the deep understanding of who we truly are. This confusion of self trickles down to our every day decision-making. When mired in the onslaught of individual decisions that may not be aligned with who we are and what we want, while holding so dearly onto the random thoughts that surround them, simplicity can’t be attained. Basically, it’s why it’s hard to let go of possessions and make effective decisions about how we use our time.

Every time we think about something, it feels important. This includes the calendar appointments and to do lists and projects. They feel important because they popped into our brains and now have to be addressed or, if left unaddressed, they remain heavy and lurking in the background. We don’t often evaluate these thoughts and idea snippets against our values, existing priorities, and current time constraints. We think that the moment something is on a piece of paper (or it’s digital cousin), that it’s important. We don’t consider the future in this regard: the time it took to jot down the thought and time it takes to go through the scattered or lengthy lists, most of it unimportant, some of it repetitive. 

Do you email yourself random thoughts? Are sticky notes and scraps of paper and used envelopes sprinkled throughout your home or car or bags? My guess is that most of those thoughts are repeat offenders, not important, or you might have remembered them anyway (or you completed the thing, yet still have the note). I hate forgetting things too but just because I think something doesn’t mean I write it down. The more vague or amorphous the thought (ex. consider veterinary school, conduct research project on family genealogy), the less you know what to do with it and the longer it stays on the list. The heaviness and feeling of busy grows.

Do you have printed photos of people you don’t know that are blurry or thumbed? Do you have stacks of hard drives filled with digital photos that have never been sifted through or organized? I liken the collection of thoughts to photos. Much in the same way we consider our thoughts indispensable (along with their scattered notes), we think that since a photo exists, it indiscriminately has value. While more concrete in form, photos share some similar qualities: the moment it’s created it’s considered valuable and we need to do something with it. 

Photos have an additional quality of being irreplaceable which is seen as a value unto itself. We don’t often think: “What if I never took that photo in the first place? Or: “Is that random photo of Aunt Sally really important to me?” This is no different than remembering some things and forgetting others. Everything that has occurred doesn’t need to be tracked. We tend to take photos and hold onto them tightly, but don’t often take the time to look at them. In this case, what’s the point? Please note that I’m not suggesting you don’t keep photos or that they have no value. This is about readjusting your mindset so that your actions are more in line with your reality. If you’ve just selected photos you love, put them in an accessible format and enjoy looking at them, you’ve mastered this challenge. This is where more awareness of who you truly are comes in.

Let this be a reminder: You are not your thoughts, or strewn notes, or to do lists, or countless, unsifted photos. You can address these items with far more restraint and far less gravity. Doing so separates the meaningful from the meaningless and is another step in creating a simpler yet fuller life.