Keep it simple

After five weeks of living without in rural Sierra Leone, I could hardly contain my anticipation to visit the big city, Freetown, for the weekend. But when I returned back to my humble country roost, I was surprised to find how much I had grown accustomed to the rural life. In Mile 91, I wake to the sound of children's feet pattering inches outside my bedroom wall, not to hollers, car horns and engines. There are no hour-long debates about where to eat dinner, how to get there, through what neighborhood and how to get home. In the provinces, mangoes, rice and hardboiled eggs are my bread and butter, and indecision over choice is never a problem. Here I do not face the frustration of waiting for a spotty Internet connection to deliver tantalizing glimpses of the outside world. I take my baths in the dark with several cups of cool well water, and my reading is done under the supervision of a kerosene lamp or candlestick.

Facing long stretches of blackness in the evenings has been a good reminder that much of life is about finding and harnessing pleasure. The beauty of living simply is that pleasure is free to flow naturally instead of being mechanically pumped and filtered through the complicated games of a more "civilized" world. I consider Thoreau's observation in Walden particularly agreeable, "To maintain one's self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations are still the sports of the more artificial."

Simple living can seem difficult in the developed world, but it's all a trick of breaking with habit. Sick men have long been advised to seek a change of scenery; the tired and uninspired would benefit from the same advice. Try this experiment, wherever you happen to be, for a dose of mental and physical refreshment.

For a full weekend, leave the lights off and do what you need by natural light. Sit on the porch outside and enjoy the taste of a beer or soda with friends. One discovers no need to adjust the temperature of the thermostat or the shade of lighting, no trouble settling on the right mood music and no threat of conversation drowned by waves of television static. One can begin to enjoy friendship undiluted by expectations and attempts to force luxury; the focus will be instead diverted straight to one another's company.

One can also sit alone and lose oneself to the natural flow of the mind. With some time you will find, no matter in what state you start the journey, your mind drinking from the mouth of absentia a tonic that begins with a Gordian knot of half-formed thoughts and ends with one word, simplicity. You start to notice silence again. You can hear and smell. You can feel the air around you, wrapping your thoughts and body up in a blanket of consolation for all the things you haven't done in your life. Acceptance follows to the places your mind leads you.

Another means of achieving mental clarity is through physical austerity. Avoid losing hours to complicated gastronomic endeavors, and consume instead, several boiled eggs or a cucumber for breakfast. Eat bananas and a bag of peanuts for a snack. Go about your day with your stomach filled just enough to avoid the pang of hunger and release yourself from the thought of food altogether. I'd contend that the human health is not as fragile as doctors can sometimes entertain. Thinking hard on a quiet stomach can be invigorating, and when the mind is not focused on eating, one begins to find pleasure pouring and filling up other tasks, like friends, studies and ideas.

Living simply does not require one to rescind one's possessions and flee to a kibbutz. It is not lighting incense sticks and sitting uncomfortably for several hours on a velvet beanbag, or consulting manuals and videotapes to master difficult breathing techniques. True simplicity is lighter: One only needs to prevent the mind from controlling its environment and allow the environment to take over. When this happens, pleasure flows on its own course like a stream in search of still water. Simple living is leaving out and reaching in to inspect the self and appreciate its condition, a task which any man can be a ready and able expert.

Courtney Han is a Trinity senior. This is her final column of the summer session.