28/09/2026
A gentle life of simple abundance
As October approaches and we move towards the 1st of November, I am reminded of Samhain, the ancient Celtic festival that marks the beginning of the Celtic new year. It feels like an appropriate time for reflection: a moment to pause, take stock, and consider what I want to carry with me into the year ahead—and what I might be ready to let go of.
I have been reading Kate Humble’s A Year of Living Simply, and it has inspired me to look more consciously at my life through the lens of waste, consumption and, perhaps most importantly, the question of what is enough.
I have long been drawn to the philosophy and ideas of Satish Kumar, co-founder of Schumacher College in Devon, England, where learning is centred around ecology, horticulture and finding ways of living and working in partnership with nature.
In A Year of Living Simply (2020), Humble writes about a conversation with Satish in which she asks him about the growing number of people who are leaving jobs they dislike and choosing a different pace of life.
She asks him whether a simple life means living without comfort. Satish laughs and replies that “simplicity can be comfortable.” We can have beautiful things, he suggests; the important thing is not to be wasteful. The endless stream of things we buy and then discard pollutes the air, soil and water—the very things upon which our lives depend.
Instead, he advocates choosing things that are useful, durable and made to last: things that we treasure rather than constantly replace.
Humble reflects later in the book that a simple life is not necessarily a life without pleasure, but a life that makes time for pleasure. She writes about the simple pleasure of curling up on the sofa and turning back the cover of a new book.
That thought resonates deeply with me.
I love going into bookshops and rummaging through second-hand book stalls. I never quite know what I am going to find, and that is part of the pleasure. There is something wonderful about coming across an unexpected book and feeling, for a moment, that you have discovered a little treasure.
Perhaps that is part of what a simpler life means to me: not having less for the sake of having less, but becoming more conscious of what I choose to keep, what I value and what I make time for.
A well-loved book, unexpectedly discovered and then read slowly, seems to embody that kind of simplicity. It is something beautiful, useful and lasting, offering pleasure that doesn't depend upon constantly having something new.
So I have decided to begin decluttering. And, alongside that, to make a conscious decision to buy less.
At this stage of my life, I realise that I really don't need much more. There are very few things I need to acquire simply for the sake of having them. Instead, I have promised myself that, going forward, anything I do buy should be both useful and beautiful.
As I clear out my wardrobe—a collection that has been building and expanding over twenty years or more—I am thinking differently about clothes. Perhaps I will buy fewer things, but choose natural fabrics such as cotton, linen and silk, and only those pieces that I genuinely love and will love wearing.
And I have also found myself thinking: why am I saving the good things?
It feels like the time has come to wear the good clothes, use the good china, eat the best food, open the bottle, light the candle, and enjoy the things that have been waiting for some future occasion.
What am I waiting for?
I laughed to myself. I'm in my seventies. Perhaps this is precisely the time to surround myself with beautiful things.
But this has led me to another question: what am I absorbing on all levels of my being?
If I am becoming more mindful about the physical things I bring into my life, perhaps I need to become equally mindful about what I allow into my mind, my senses and my spirit.
What music am I listening to? What conversations am I having? What am I watching on television? What am I consuming through social media?
I have become increasingly aware that so much of what surrounds us is violent, abusive, angry and destructive. Even when we think we are simply watching or listening, it enters us in some way. It affects our sensitivity. It affects our nervous systems. It affects our sense of the world and, perhaps, our souls.
I want something different.
I want affection and gentleness. I want to give affectionate touch and hugs, and to be hugged in return. I want conversations that nourish rather than diminish. I want beauty, kindness, laughter, music, books, nature and time.
I want a gentle life of simple abundance.
I remember, in my late forties and early fifties, reading Sarah Ban Breathnach’s book Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy (1995) and thinking that the idea of abundance was all very well—but perhaps you needed the time to enjoy it. When we are working, raising families and responding to the endless demands of everyday life, there can seem to be very little space simply to be.
Perhaps now is the time to read it again.
Not because I want more, but because I want to become more conscious of what is already here.
Perhaps abundance is not about accumulation at all. Perhaps it is about attention.
It is having enough, and recognising that it is enough.
It is choosing fewer things, but choosing them well.
It is wearing the beautiful clothes rather than keeping them for another day.
It is using the good china.
It is reading the book slowly.
It is making time for pleasure.
It is surrounding myself with things that are beautiful, useful and lasting—and with people, experiences and ideas that nourish me.
As I enter this next year of my life, perhaps this is what I want to practise: a life of simple abundance.
To be more discerning about what I consume.
To waste less.
To buy less.
To cherish more.
To notice more.
To make time for beauty.
To allow myself to enjoy what I already have. To enjoy simplicity not as deprivation, but as conscious abundance.
And perhaps, above all, to remember that a rich life is not necessarily one filled with more, but one in which we are fully present for what is already here.
So this is my little blessing for myself, for you, and for the world today:
May you blossom where you are,
and sparkle in your own way.
Search deep within for direction.
Know your worth, and honour your limits.
Cherish the being that you are,
in the body that you have.
May you meet yourself with tenderness and grace.
Walk lightly upon the earth, grateful for her abundance.
May you live gently,
in peace with yourself, and your world.
