Reflections on Simplicity - Challenges of a Young Adult in an Urban Jungle

Ever so often, the word "simplicity" connotes a kind of illness in our modern soul. To call one "simple" usually implies ignorance, gulibility and cowardice. As such, in the working society, simplicity is a taboo and a byword. The cautionary tale abounds: "If you're too simple, you'll be 'eaten up' by others."

On the other hand, simplicity is often reviled, juxtaposed as an anathema to progress and personal fulfillment. A common adage warns that "A simple person never succeeds."

This is originally posted on  Sunday, 3 June 2012 at 22:56

This leads us to the question then: does simplicity has any value? Has the meaning and intent of simplicity been misunderstood by the masses, or is it merely an artifact of yesteryears- applicable to more "simple" times and for all purposes, obsolete in our "modern reality"?

It seems foolhardy to explore the very notion of simplicity. After all, the premise of simplicity seems ostensible, even naked. Simplicity, as a subject, does not offer much to be exploited. It  seems inherently apparent, sui generis-  untainted, pure, unadulterated and intuitive. And here I am, penning an essay on it.  

Therefore I will not attempt to broker an agreement on what simplicity is. In the postmodern vein, simplicity is what it is to each individual- our sense of simplicity and wonder is uniquely our own. This runs parallel to the notion of creation and salvation- that every human being is expertly knitted, breathed to life, carries an intrinsic worth and unlocks an eternal purpose upon receiving the gift of salvation. 

What I bring to the table is therefore the exploration of a simple agony: the challenge of living simply in our urban jungle.

It's interesting how we all came to the world as toddlers: starry-eyed, hungry for novelty and ready to take on the hustle-and-bustle of life. I was a very curious kid.  I asked many questions, bugged my elders, read storybooks, watched TV, all along fascinated by the world of  dinosaurs, insects, birds, clouds, mythology, police, detectives, the supernatural, robots, dogs, pokemon, planes and a wide variety of stuff. As I grow older, however, the curiosity waned, even going into a brief remission (by brief, I mean for almost 6 years). 

The decline in curiosity was, by no means, a coincidence. Personally, I felt that curiosity is rarely unaccompanied by extroversion- they are joined at the hip like Siamese twins. The dearth of curiosity could be attributed to my tumultuous adolescence as I struggle to understand my place in the institutions I was shelved in. Through a series of negative encounters, I developed certain defenses which increased my antipathy and angst. I did maintained my sanity though, and derived small pleasures of life from pursuing few interests, but even they are not enough to soothe the wounds of my heart. 

As the defenses strengthened, I became a hard man in the sense that my heart was hardened, my vision bleak and my spirit weighed down by the inescapable sense of a destiny set for failure, obscurity and lack of fulfillment.