Simple Meals, Simpler Living: What Bread and Butter Can Teach Us

It was just a can of lentil stew I had sitting around. Just a little butter on a slice of sourdough from a loaf I bought the other day, plus a few walnuts and a slice or two of fresh mozzarella to round things out. (No meat, because it's Friday –– a Catholic tradition I adopted years ago and held onto because it still serves me.)

It was the simplest possible lunch I could have made for myself on a weekday afternoon while trying to figure out what was next for my day –– nothing special. But I felt like making it into something more than just scraps and leftovers with a dash or two of intention. Not a gourmet meal by any means, but a deliberate one.

So, instead of absentmindedly cramming my food into my mouth while I continued to work, I lit a stick of pine incense, put on an old episode of Outlander, and took a moment to appreciate the grey overcast cloudiness outside while I ate instead. That choice changed everything and helped the rest of my afternoon play out better.

Simple Doesn't Mean Lesser (or Lazy)

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about simplicity, and not just when it comes to food. But also my creative work and how I structure my days. I've been considering all the different ways people try to keep up with a world that never stops demanding more, faster, louder. There’s this pressure, especially online, to make everything into a big production. To over-engineer the sacred, over-style the beautiful, and turn even lunch into content.

But sometimes, the most nourishing thing we can do is return to something unremarkable instead, allowing it to be enough. 

Simplicity is so often mistaken for lack. A meal that isn’t Instagram-worthy is proof we didn’t even try. A short blog post means we didn’t give a shit. A walk taken without tracking our steps must mean we weren’t committed to our health that day.

But real simplicity takes presence and restraint. It takes the ability to know when something is already enough.

That lentil stew lunch? I didn’t plan it in advance. I didn’t plate it with color theory or aesthetic symmetry in mind. But it still had everything I needed:

• Protein, warmth, fat, fiber, comfort
• A connection to something older (bread and butter, the first medicine)
• The peace that came when I slowed down enough to make room for it

We don’t always need to complicate the things that get the job done. And often, returning to our most basic, nourishing defaults gives us the foundation we need to do our more complex work, creatively or otherwise.

7 Places to Reclaim Simplicity (Without Losing Meaning)

I feel like a lot of people might be craving something similar lately, even if they can't name it –– permission to just pipe down and let life be simple again, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. So, if you're craving a little more grounding or maybe just wondering where to start, try looking for opportunities in places like the following.

1. In your meals

Maybe this is just my autism talking, but I truly believe the simplest foods are also some of the best foods. So, let at least one meal this week be completely unfussy. No measuring. No recipe. No pressure. No Insta-glamor. Just something like:

• Some simple, nourishing soup or beans
• A slice of good bread
• A bit of butter or cheese
• Something crunchy or fresh

Dress it up if you feel moved to, but don't do it because you think you should. You’re feeding more than your body when you eat like this. You’re also feeding your natural rhythm and connecting with simple truths your distant ancestors understood long before you were even born.

2. In your writing

Write something that isn’t meant to perform or drive traffic for a change. A journal entry you don't plan on showing anyone. A quick, off-the-cuff reflection. Maybe just a letter to yourself. It can be as simple as a single truthful paragraph about how you really feel right now.

You don’t need the perfect title. You don’t need a hook. You just need honesty.

The best writing I’ve ever done has always started out as something small and potentially unimportant. Something quick and messy I wrote on a Sunday afternoon because I felt like it. And that turned out to be the magic –– just letting it stay simple. 

3. In your schedule

Not every hour needs to be filled, and not every block on your calendar needs a label. Try leaving a little stretch of white space in your week sometime soon, and see what happens. It can be ten minutes of silence. Fifteen minutes to watch the clouds roll by or even just do nothing. 

The world is forever trying to convince us that time spent "just being" is wasted. It isn’t.

4. In your rituals

You don’t need a hundred candles or room for a Pinterest-perfect altar to connect to the sacred. I certainly don't have those things, but I don't let it stop me. And you don't necessarily need to consider yourself a spiritual person to benefit from rituals, either.

You can light a single stick of incense before a meal or a meditation session to kick the atmosphere up a notch. You can reach for a special lucky mug on Mondays to start your week on a positive note. You can take a minute when you first wake up to be mindfully grateful that you lived to see another day.

Keeping your rituals simple and accessible doesn’t diminish their impact or your ability to use them to connect with the world around you. It helps you turn magic, mindfulness, and intention into everyday staples.

5. In your expectations

I don't care where your personal bar is right now. One of the kindest things you can do for yourself is lower it just enough to breathe a little easier. For your consideration:

• What if your house didn’t have to be perfect to feel like home?
• What if your to-do list didn’t have to be crazy full to feel complete?
• What if your life didn’t have to be impressive for you to feel good living it?

The rest of society will never stop telling you to do more, but your body could actually be asking for less. Your spirit might be asking for simpler. Listen.

6. In your home environment

Real spaces you spend time in don't need to be styled or staged. To me, the most peaceful spaces are the ones that feel lived in. There are blankets draped over the furniture that you actually use, books or favorite items within easy reach, and light that lands softly on the things you love.

Let one space in your home be simple and soft, not curated. It doesn't even have to be a whole room. Even just a favorite corner or two will do, if that's all you can swing right now.

7. In your digital life

This is actually the one I've been working on the hardest recently –– cleaning house online and making sure I'm spending my energy on the right things. You don’t have to be everywhere or post constantly. You don’t have to respond to every ping or casual message, either. (God knows I don't.)

Choose just a couple of platforms that feel like a genuine fit for what you want to express. Try new ones if you like, but give yourself permission to let them fall by the wayside if they just don't click for you. (Sorry, TikTok.) Let your online presence reflect your real rhythm, not the demands of the almighty algorithm.

........

I don’t know what you’re eating today. I don’t know if your creative drive is on fire lately or just barely lit. I don’t know if you’re thriving in life or just treading water. But I do know this –– something it took me way too long to really understand.

There is no shame in appreciating small comforts, and there is no failure in doing less. Sometimes the most sacred thing you can do is butter a slice of bread, heat up a can of stew, and sit down to enjoy it like it matters. Because it does.

* This reflection is part of this month's cycle of Feast of the Wandering Pen, a creative journey that's all about experimentation, expression, and presence.