Tis the Gift to Be Simple: Embracing Minimalist Living

The Quiet Power of ‘Tis the Gift to Be Simple

In a modern world that equates busines with importance and accumulation with success, a quiet counter-melody echoes from the nineteenth century: “’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free.”

These famous words, immortalized by the Shaker song “Simple Gifts” written in 1848 by Elder Joseph Brackett, are often remembered with a sense of nostalgic charm. Yet, beneath their folksy rhythm lies a radical philosophy. Simplicity is not merely a minimalist aesthetic or a fleeting lifestyle trend; it is an intentional practice of unburdening the mind, space, and soul to rediscover what truly matters.

The Architecture of Shaker Simplicity

To understand the weight of this phrase, it helps to look at its origins. The Shakers, officially known as the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, lived communally and practiced radical equality, pacifism, and celibacy. To them, labor was worship, and craftsmanship was a form of prayer.

Their iconic furniture and architecture were born from this exact ethos. Shaker chairs, tables, and cabinets were stripped of superfluous ornamentation not because they lacked artistry, but because they believed unnecessary decoration was dishonest and prideful. Every line served a purpose; every joint was built to endure.

For the Shakers, simplicity was the ultimate sophistication. By removing the distractions of the material world, they created an environment where spiritual and communal focus could flourish. They discovered a profound truth that applies just as much today: when you clear away the clutter of the non-essential, you make room for the essential.

Why Simplicity Feels So Difficult Today

If simplicity is a gift, why does it feel so hard to unwrap?

Modern life is engineered to keep us perpetually complex. We are bombarded by notifications, societal expectations, career pressures, and endless choices. The digital age has turned our attention into a harvested commodity, trading our peace of mind for stimulation. We accumulate possessions to signal status, pack our schedules to feel productive, and clutter our thoughts with anxieties about the future.

We often mistake complexity for depth. We assume that a busy life is a meaningful one, and that owning more makes us richer. Yet, as the Shaker song suggests, true freedom doesn’t come from having more—it comes from needing less.

Practicing Simplicity in Everyday Life

Embracing the gift of simplicity does not require abandoning society, moving to a cabin in the woods, or throwing away everything you own. Instead, it is an internal shift toward intentional living. Here are a few ways to invite simplicity back into your daily routine:

• Edit Your Physical Space: Take a critical look at your surroundings. Keep only what serves a practical purpose or brings genuine, lasting joy. A clear room often translates to a clear mind.
• Audit Your Commitments: Learn the power of a graceful “no.” Protect your time fiercely, recognizing that every yes to a trivial obligation is a no to your own well-being and rest.
• Unplug to Reconnect: Create intentional boundaries with technology. Designated tech-free hours or device-free meals allow you to return to the present moment and engage deeply with the people around you.
• Embrace ‘Good Enough’: Perfectionism is a primary driver of unnecessary complexity. Accept that striving for perfection in every single area of life leads to burnout, whereas striving for excellence—coupled with grace—leads to peace.

Finding Freedom in the Valley

The full verse of Elder Brackett’s song concludes with a vivid image:

“When true simplicity is gained, to bend and to be we do not feel ashamed, to turn, to turn will be our delight, ’till by turning, turning we come round right.”

Simplicity requires a willingness to bend rather than break under the weight of expectations. It invites us to turn away from the relentless pursuit of more and return to a place of balance.

When we accept the gift of simplicity, we stop performing for an audience and start living for ourselves. We realize that a rich life isn’t measured by the volume of our possessions or the frantic pace of our calendars, but by the quiet joy found in a cup of coffee, a meaningful conversation, or a still moment of reflection.