the art of reduction
refinement, sensuality + minimalism
Autumn is the season of gathering inward, softening, laced with a sense of pulling in and dying back. The inherent nature of this time of year coaxes us into a space of evolution through reduction and refinement. There’s an elegance in simplifying— finding sanctuary in nestling inwards, savoring simple routines.
In that vein, it feels timely that I’ve become increasingly preoccupied with figuring out how to be more discerning about my time and focus. This preoccupation bleeds into every corner, from what I’m purchasing, to who I am spending time with, to what I choose to ingest physically and digitally. It feels like a topic frequently revisited, there’s so much available to us at any given moment that at times we inevitably succumb to the vortex. There’s a need to be fiercely aware of your energy and attention, otherwise, it’s entirely too easy for it to be snatched away.
It seems to require a process of detoxification, of training your psyche to reach for more nourishing facets of consumption. To outwit systems designed to feed on evolutionary cycles of addiction— the dopamine rush and instant gratification. There’s a cleverness required to assert yourself as a more intelligent entity than the algorithm. And that isn’t a suggestion towards extremism or isolation, I don’t necessarily celebrate a removal from the entities that are now woven into the fabric of modern living. Rather, it’s a continued process of pruning communication channels to filter what information lands in your atmosphere.
The filtration stretches beyond the digital. With our time as a precious commodity, how and where do you give your attention? To whom do you prioritize? The conversations and interactions that weave the tapestry of our existence serve as the fabrication for how we move through the world. That focus should be given wisely. Worth considering the levels of reciprocity, inspiration, and support provided by those within your circle.
Beyond the reflection of how/where/with whom you spend your time, possibly the most valuable and underappreciated is allowing time for spaciousness. We fear the void, the liminal space between. There’s so infrequently time for nothing factored into our days: play, aimless wandering, sitting in the sunshine, pausing to appreciate the view, eating without distraction.
The magnificent dilemma is the more we engage in this process of curation, the more sensitive we become. Curation forces a recognition of what we’re electing to ingest, it requires conscious awareness of how the minutia of life affect you on a larger scale. Awareness heightens sensitivity, the more sensitive we become, the more attuned we are to subtitles. This sensitivity can eventually, and nearly imperceptibly fade into sensuality. And to engage in life with a sensual undertone is revolutionary, defiant. Sensuality is not restricted to the limitations of physical indulgences, or as simplistic as desirability through the lens of another. Sensuality is a full-bodied engagement with the world, a conduit where life can be experienced as luxurious, vivid, textured, experimental. It is the preciousness and vastness hidden in simple moments— the sound of laughter, the taste of ripe fruit, the touch of skin, the smell of damp earth.
It’s a practice, it requires consistency and consciousness. We trim, curate, prune, and practice savoring the flavors embedded in simple instances, we become open to and awakened by these delicate, understated moments. Sensations, experiences, and challenges become engaging, fractal instances serve as reminders that we are part of a magnificent and vastly complex orchestration.
It awakens us and encourages an attunement to the moment to moment. It’s an act of devotion to the self to guard your time and attention, to choose to bask in simplicity. Minimalism is not limited to the refinement of physical objects, but as someone who has delicately and artfully designed their life to amplify the quality of each moment.
That’s largely been the motivation behind purging and refining because I crave relishing life so deeply that every thread can be genuinely appreciated. Not superficially, not forced, but an embodied reverence. This season has been beautiful, and heavy. Every day witnessing the leaves loosening their grip, in their final stage of golden luminescence before collapse. I sense a part of myself, somewhere deep in my psyche in a similar release and decomposition process. At times it’s hard to celebrate, we aren’t accustomed to finding value in the darker tones. And yet, I keep coming back to this thought— that what a waste it would be not to be present with the spectrum.