Recently, I finished a book on minimalism, and I love the ideas about minimizing stuff, simplifying your schedule, focusing on one meaningful goal or task at a time, limiting social media preoccupation. This is not the first book I’ve read on this topic, and probably, it’s not the last.
Each time I read such a book I am reminded of wisdom and glean a few tidbits toward a personal value of simplicity. Indeed, it is a gift to be simple. But when I read these books, I have found myself with an unease about the human minimizing. I haven’t had words, until now, but I’ve had a persistent discomfort. This post is my attempt to work out the dis-ease.
Humans are created for community.
Amongst ancient peoples, geography and the limits of traveling defined who would be in the community for all but a few explorers. Today, we can live in community with people spread all about our globe. We do need wisdom in how to live lovingly, connectedly while accepting our limits.
Minimizing the humans we connect with does not seem to me the way of wisdom or the way of kindness. As to wisdom, if I minimize the people I connect with, I feel am treating human relations in a utilitarian matter albeit unintentionally. I am considering who can be with me for the long haul of life, who will help me. Whether I consider the Aesop’s fable of the lion and the mouse or conversations with friends, I do know that we cannot foresee the ways others may help us.
But even more importantly to me, is the intrinsic worth of each human. When humans minimize social relationships, we will naturally choose those we feel the deepest affinity, but that choice is based on today’s needs and identity. Where then is the opportunity to learn and grow from others? What about those on the margins of society or who are odd? Except for maybe their parents, are they left out? Consider an eccentric friend, and be glad they are in your life.
When I was in grad school, I lived at home one summer. One week I found myself volunteering with a day camp for teens with significant developmental disabilities. My brother had been volunteering first in a Sunday School class and then as a respite care worker for years through our local church, and the day camp for people with developmental disabilities needed another volunteer. Besides a tremendous respect for the primary caretakers, usually the parents, I left with a desire for how can all people be included in community, in conversation, and activities. And I left with new friends.
So if everyone decided to implement relational minimalism, where does that leave quirky personalities, marginalized people, people with developmental disabilities, difficult temperaments? We need one another; we learn from one another’s uniqueness. If I minimize my relationships and social circles, I may find my own capacity for growth, wisdom, and understanding of the creativity of God as experienced in other’s uniqueness has been limited.
By expanding my interaction with those I do not have a natural affinity or who I do not understand, I enter the arena of natural human variance as well as the messy spaces of how people’s own experiences and pain can make them prickly and an irritant for my sensitive spots. And then, something beautiful might could happen, over time I understand my sensitivities and my peculiarities, and I understand and see your goodness and beauty as well as your irritants; we can grow together.
In times of grieving, unwellness, trauma processing, we all pull back from interaction, people, and engagement, but in times of wellness, let’s not grow weary in gathering with other humans outside our sweet spots.
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