I’ve been experimenting with carrying less

A place for my thoughts to rest

I’ve gone through most of my life with a pinball machine for a brain. One thought is deflected by another, and another, and another.

Most of those thoughts lean towards creative pursuits. I’ll have an idea that feels genuinely exciting, something I think could make life easier for other people. Then, almost as quickly, it’s interrupted by the reminder that we’re out of milk or that I still haven’t replied to that email.

The creative wondering drifts into the mist.

Forgotten.

Sometimes I laugh because, in the moment, it really did feel like the idea that was going to change everything.

Other times, it’s less amusing.

Forgetting the little things chips away at my trust in myself. Promises slip. Tasks disappear. Every forgotten thought quietly reinforces the story that I’m unreliable.

For many years, I’ve chased a more mindful life.

Calm. Breathable peace.

Meditation, yoga and therapy have all played a part. They have also helped me recognize the obstacles that make mindfulness difficult to reach.

This week’s experiment was intentional: I wanted to find one consistent place to capture information.

There are so many thoughts, feelings and magical moments passing through my mind that my brain simply can’t keep track of them all.

I wear a lot of hats.

Each one seems to have its own stream of ideas, quietly puffing away like little chimneys. Individually, they don’t feel like much. Together, they become surprisingly noisy.

I needed a practical way to manage those thoughts.

Part of me began wondering whether mindfulness depended on more than meditation or slowing down. Perhaps it was also connected to how much I was asking my brain and body to carry.

Could creating a physical place for my thoughts make more space for calm?

Recently, I’ve been asking AI the same prompt each day:

How are we designing life today?

Over the past week, each response brought me a little closer to moving thoughts out of my head and giving them an organized place to rest. I pictured the Hall of Prophecy in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, where every prophecy is held safely inside its own glass sphere.

Most of the suggestions were simple. The first was to choose one place to capture information and I chose to use Apple Notes.

Until then, I had been adding things to Apple Notes, pen and paper, Notion, my calendar and my email.

My thoughts were scattered inside my head, and my systems were scattered too.

It wasn’t helping me in my quest for mindfulness.

Some of the results surprised me.

I wrote a couple of things in my notes, and when my reminder pinged later, I couldn’t quite remember what one of them meant.

I expected to feel frustrated.

Instead, I felt calm.

Free.

Lifted.

I hadn’t realised how heavy some thoughts had become until they stopped asking me to carry them.

I began to wonder whether forgetting was always such a bad thing.

By the end of the week, I had created a personalised system for the to-dos, ideas and thoughts that usually raced around my head.

I felt more open. I had more capacity.

I was more receptive to the life happening around me, and some of the tension I had been carrying in my body began to release.

I’ve been wondering whether the tension of everyday life settles somewhere in our bodies.

And whether, sometimes, the first step towards mindfulness isn’t another meditation or breathing exercise.

Perhaps it’s giving our thoughts somewhere else to rest.

Question the default. Keep what works. Design the rest.