Holy Shift: Soul Simplicity

Soul Simplicity

We carry so much.  
Stones in the backpack of the soul—  
resentments, comparisons,  
noise that drowns the heart.  

But nature whispers:  
the tree lets go of its leaves,  
the river releases its silt,  
the bird sheds what it no longer needs.  

Simplicity is this letting go.  
It is the soul unburdened,  
returning to what is holy—  
to silence, to rhythm,  
to the steady beat of the heart.  

What’s Heavy for Humanity

Humanity carries its own backpack of stones. The endless noise of notifications and opinions leaves us restless, our souls aching for silence. Unreal expectations press down—perfectionism, comparison, the demand to perform—until authenticity feels out of reach. We grow heavy with disconnection from nature, forgetting the rhythm of sunrise and tide, forgetting that the earth itself can steady us.  

Fear and division fracture our communities. Suspicion and anger weigh on us like iron, exhausting the spirit that longs for communion. Busyness without meaning scatters our days, filling calendars but leaving hearts empty. And beneath it all, grief often remains unspoken—losses carried quietly, stones hidden in the soul’s shoes, making every step harder.  

These are the heavy stones of our age. They bend us low, not because we are weak, but because we were never meant to carry so much. The invitation of simplicity is to set them down—to remember that the soul was made for lightness, for rhythm, for holiness.  

Returning to What’s Holy

When the soul sets down what is heavy, it remembers what is holy. Not holy as distant or rigid, but holy as what reconnects us to love, mercy, and presence.  

The holy is found in silence—the kind that steadies the heart and makes space for listening. It is found in rhythm—the rising of the sun, the turning of seasons, the breath that carries us moment by moment. It is found in the heart—where compassion, authenticity, and joy pulse beneath the noise.  

To return to what is holy is not to escape the world, but to live more deeply within it. It is to walk barefoot on the earth, to share a meal with gratitude, to pause long enough to notice the bird’s song or the child’s laughter. These simple acts are sacraments, reminders that holiness is woven into the ordinary.  

Soul simplicity is not emptiness. It is fullness in essentials. It is the lightness that comes when we release what does not serve and return to what sustains.  

The Lightness of Soul

When the stones are set down,  
the soul remembers how to walk freely.  
Steps grow lighter,  
breath steadier,  
heart more open.  

Simplicity is not absence,  
but presence—  
the quiet strength of living in rhythm  
with nature, silence, and the heart.  

It is the bird rising into the sky,  
the stream flowing clear again,  
the candle burning steady in the dark.  

This is soul simplicity:  
not escape from the world,  
but deeper belonging within it.  
It is the holiness of enough,  
the mercy of release,  
the joy of lightness.  

A Coffee Ritual

Even coffee can teach simplicity. In Costa Rica, the chorreador brews with nothing more than a wooden stand that resembles a banana stand, and a cloth filter—stained from countless brews—looking almost like a worn old sock. At first glance, it may seem too humble, even shocking to those accustomed to shiny machines and polished gadgets.  

But that humble filter carries memory: mornings shared, aromas rising, patience practiced, a new life in a culture that values the simple things. The ritual is slow and quiet—hot water poured gently over fresh grounds, gravity doing the work, silence filling the space. 

What seems ordinary, even unrefined, becomes holy. It is presence in a cup, gratitude in a sip, simplicity that nourishes both body and soul.  

Everyday Holy Simplicities

The coffee ritual is only one doorway into soul simplicity. There are countless others, woven quietly into daily life. Walking at dawn, we step into the hush before the world stirs, carried by the rhythm of light returning. Listening to birdsong, we let creation’s chorus remind us of joy and presence. Sharing bread at the table, we discover communion in the ordinary, gratitude rising with each bite. Lighting a candle in silence, we anchor the heart in holiness with a single flame. Even pausing for a deep breath between tasks clears the clutter, steadying the soul. And tending the earth—watering a plant, turning soil, noticing the green shoot—becomes a ritual of renewal, reminding us that simplicity is not emptiness but fullness in essentials.

Soul Simplicity Shared

Soul simplicity is not only personal—it is communal. When a community chooses simplicity together, it creates rhythms of mercy and belonging. We see it in neighbors who share food instead of hoarding, in congregations who choose silence before words, in villages that honor the cycles of planting and harvest.

Communal simplicity is a refusal to let division or excess define us. It is the choice to live lightly with one another, to carry burdens together, to celebrate what is enough. In shared rituals—lighting candles, breaking bread, listening to the earth—we remember that holiness is not only within the individual soul but between us, in the spaces where compassion and presence meet.

When simplicity is shared, mercy multiplies. Belonging deepens. The soul finds not only its own lightness but the joy of walking in rhythm with others.

Closing Benediction

May we set down what is heavy.
May we return to what is holy.
May we walk in soul simplicity—
light, steady, and whole.

May our communities choose mercy over division,
presence over distraction,
belonging over isolation.

And may the rhythm of nature, silence, and the heart
carry us into the holiness of enough.

Thank You!

This post closes the series, but not the journey. Thank you for walking with me through the fog, the release, and the return. Your presence has been part of the rhythm, part of the mercy, part of the lightness. May soul simplicity continue to carry us all into what is holy and enough.