I Want Less

the pressure to be ambitious and the allure of a simple life

There’s a certain peace that only reveals itself when I’m alone and offline. It's quiet, but not empty. It’s the kind of calm that makes room for my thoughts to stretch out and breathe. Without the constant buzz of notifications or the pressure to perform or produce or prove. It feels so good to just be. And more than anything, I’m reminded of how much easier life feels with fewer options—when the noise fades the essentials become obvious. Clarity by way of stillness.

This past week, I flew out to visit my sister and her kids. It’s become my favorite escape when I have a moment to step away from work. It’s sorta funny thinking I could go anywhere, even take a little vacation, and keep choosing this little college town two plane rides from Los Angeles. But there’s something deeply comforting about how simple life feels there. A handful of decent restaurants to choose from. One great vintage store. A local coffee shop. No one cares what your job is, who you know, or how you’re dressed. Being yourself and making choices have never been easier. No endless scrolling. No decision fatigue. Just... simplicity.

The moment I got home, I did a massive purge. The excess of choices, noise, and stuff—felt overwhelming. I’m craving less. Not just in my closet, but in life. We’re constantly told to dream bigger. The world throws mantras at us like you can have it all, and we wear our ambition like a badge of honor. As if chasing big careers, wealth, and attention is some universal race we’re all expected to run- or else we are somehow behind or a failure.

I’ve wondered—what if I don’t want it all?
What if less is what I’m after?
What if something quieter, something more personal, is actually enough?

Throughout my career—with multiple passions and income streams—I’ve always been met with the same question: “So, what do you really want to do?” As if I’m not already doing it. I’ve always followed my curiosity. I’ve said yes to what excites me and no to what doesn’t. And that’s always felt like enough.

I’m okay not being the most ambitious person in the room. What if I just want to do what I’m good at, the things I enjoy—and leave it at that? If I had to articulate a dream right now, it wouldn’t be about having more. It would be about having less.

A life full—not of things, but of meaning. Uncluttered, grounded, rich in love and surrounded by good people. A life that feels exciting to me—even if it might not look that way to anyone else.

I’m drawn to the quiet. To mystery. To the idea of anonymity. Of leaning into less and walking away from the noise of excess. The pressure to be seen or understood online fades when you realize mystery has its own kind of magic.

No one can ruin what you haven’t shared. Your ideas can’t be copied, misunderstood, or judged. The love you carry for someone can exist entirely in secret—safe from rejection or the critique of others. Your style, your voice, your world—it can all belong to you, and the few people you choose to let in.

It’s romantic, really. There was a time I thought anonymity and the desire for a simple life was rooted in fear. The fear of being seen, of sharing art, of showing up fully, of not having “enough”. I used to believe that putting yourself out there for strangers to consume and chasing your next round of funding for your startup was one of the braver things you could do.

Ambition and wanting more is brave. But so is wanting less. x

SJE