Something kinda crazy is happening. We are in an age of over-stimulation, convenience, and materialism. A time of pings, alerts, and one-click checkouts. Of Instacarted groceries, same-day deliveries, and smart fridges that judge me for my snacking habits. It’s the golden era of convenience, and yet, somehow, a growing number of us are quietly backing away from it.

Backing away from overspending, wastefulness, and chemicals in our food with names I can’t pronounce. Backing away from a modern lifestyle and high-stress neighborhoods, and instead we are going back home to our sanctuaries (home) to grow our own food, be closer to our families, and even removing some of the technology we once thought was cutting edge and amazing, that now drains our energy.

I think we’re waking up. Slowly, steadily, like stretching out of a long sleep and realizing the dream we were chasing might not have been the right one after all. Even just a couple of months ago, I was here on my blog talking about chasing something more, and while I was headed down the right path, I don’t think even back then I fully realized what “more” actually meant.

Before you follow this rabbit hole topic with me, I know this is going to be a hard one. It definitely is for me. I am a software engineer in my profession. I am immersed in modern tech, all day, every day. I’m in school full-time as a student studying Artificial Intelligence. All of this simpler life sounds a little counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Maybe….but maybe it doesn’t have to be.

A Different Kind of Rich

For the past 30 years, I have hustled more than I can possibly tell you. I chased “more” because I believed that’s what success and fulfillment looked like. More income meant more opportunities for my kids. More stuff meant more comfort. And, in theory, more comfort meant a better life. Right?

I wanted my kids to have an amazing and rich life, so I worked myself to the point of exhaustion to give it to them. But would their lives have been any less “amazing” if they hadn’t had name-brand shoes, money to run to Subway, or the latest video games? Or would they have gained more if I had been a happier person for them? Perhaps they would be better off had I paid less attention to social media, or if I had stopped worrying about keeping up with the Joneses (darn those people). What if I stopped taking advantage of modern conveniences to make my life easier so I can work more, and instead realized that ignoring those modern conveniences could have helped me live more?

Is it too late to change?

I feel like I teach my children a lot of important lessons in life. How to be a good person and show kindness to others, or what it means to have responsibilities and consequences, but lately I have been asking myself, have I done my children a disservice by trying to give them this amazing life? Did I send them the wrong message that having more things means you have a better and more fulfilled life? That question stings. Because if I’m honest, I think I got some of it wrong, but yes, I do think it’s possible to change even now and fix things.

The Truth Behind “Less is More”

Look at the state of our world. We are obsessed with the latest and greatest of everything (I am guilty of this too): expensive cars, big houses, brand-name clothes, eating out instead of cooking at home, living better than others, and countless other ways we are chasing more. Our obsession with having more is a major factor in why our country has such extremely high consumer debt. Everyone wants “all the things”, no matter if we can afford it or not.

I had to Google this one, so let me pass on some knowledge for those who didn’t already know. That phrase, “less is more”, was first penned by Robert Browning in the 1800s when he stated it very plainly in his poem titled “Andrea del Sarto”, describing how something can be more beautiful when it is understated. It was then revived by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in the 1920s to describe minimalism in design. But it’s so much more than an aesthetic or a feeling about how something looks. It’s a philosophy. A lifestyle. A lifeline, even.

Less is stepping out of the rat race and learning to walk again.

Less is ditching the five-year plan to chase stillness.

Less is choosing a beautiful herb garden over another Amazon haul.

It’s pulling out Grandma’s recipe for canning peaches, and remembering that fulfillment comes from the work of our hands, not the swipe of a credit card. Maybe the answer to finding more with less is scaling back convenience in life and going back to the traditions which, quite honestly, are at a risk of being lost forever.

Convenience and a modern lifestyle have a cost, and it’s usually our energy, our attention, and our peace.

Fulfillment Defined…Again

I used to think fulfillment came from a high-paying job, a beautiful house, and lots of shiny new things. Now I know better.

Fulfillment, I’m learning, is in proximity. To the ones you love. To the work that matters. To the life that makes you feel like you’re actually living it, not just rushing through it.

It’s ongoing. It’s quiet. And it rarely comes in a box with a logo on it.

These days, I find myself craving simplicity. Not just as a cute aesthetic on Pinterest, but as a deep, soul-anchoring reset. I want a life where I trade stress for space, chaos for calm. Where I slow down and let joy catch up with me.

Regret? A Little. Gratitude? A Lot.

If I could rewind the clock, I would. I’d teach my kids different lessons. Not about how to earn more, but how to need less. Not about how to climb higher, but how to stand still and feel the sun on your face without guilt. Not how to compare yourself with others, but to do your own thing.

But regret doesn’t have to be a life sentence. It can be a launchpad. And from where I stand now, I’m choosing less.

Less stuff. Less striving. Less noise.

More faith. More gratitude. More life.

Our world might be shouting that we need to do more, buy more, be more. But I’m learning to whisper back: “No thanks.” I’m still figuring it out. Still making mistakes. But I’ve started taking the long way home. Tending to my garden. Saying no to one more subscription, I’ll forget to cancel. Saying yes to a walk, a prayer, a pause.

This isn’t just a season, it’s the path I want to walk for the rest of my life alongside God and my husband.