The Lure of Complexity, the Freedom of Simplicity

We often find ourselves tangled in the threads of complexity, drawn to the idea that a fuller life must be a more complicated one. It’s a deeply human instinct, this subtle pull toward filling our days with more commitments, more possessions, more friction. It’s as if complexity itself were a measure of meaning.

But what if the richness of life isn’t in the layers we add, but in the ones we learn to release?

There’s a cognitive tendency, what researchers call complexity bias, that leads us to favor complicated solutions over simple ones. We assume depth must come with difficulty. That clarity must arrive through struggle. That simple answers must be missing something. But often, they aren’t.

I’ve seen it while traveling. The temptation to overplan, overpack, or fill every hour in the name of making the most of it. But it’s usually the moments that aren’t scheduled, the long conversation with a stranger, the light slanting through a window in an unfamiliar place, that stay with me the longest. The same thing happens behind the camera. Some of my favorite photographs are the ones I almost didn’t take. The ones that came when I stopped trying to make something happen and just paid attention.

Simplicity doesn’t mean less life. It means less distraction from it. It means noticing when we’re doing something because we think we’re supposed to, or because everyone else is. It means asking what actually matters and allowing the rest to fall away.

Sometimes that means keeping the calendar emptier. Not because we’re lazy or unambitious, but because we want space to breathe. Sometimes it means owning fewer things. Not as an aesthetic, but as a way to stop managing what we don’t need. And sometimes it means letting go of the story that we have to earn our peace.

In my own life, the shift came slowly. I didn’t simplify everything at once. I just started saying no to what left me drained, and yes to what left me lighter. I began to notice how often I was overcomplicating things, out of habit or out of fear that I’d be seen as not doing enough.

It turns out, enough is a moving target. But presence isn’t. Simplicity gives it room.

So I’ll ask you this, gently:
What might happen if you let go of one unnecessary complexity this week? Not all of them. Just one. What might you make room for?

Thank you for reading. If you would like to explore more in-depth content, I invite you to check out my book, "Wander Light: Notes on Carrying Less and Seeing More." It helps support this web page and enables me to continue providing you with more content. Get your copy here.