I like to think about the “beauty of little.”
And just to be clear from the start, I’m not about to write an ode to asceticism or hermit life. Quite the opposite.

So, what does “beauty of little” mean?

For me, “little” has always felt huge. Few people, a few close friends, a few adventures, a few wild moments. So often I’ve been told, “Come on, do more!”

But let me explain what “little” means to me. Meeting tons of people has always felt almost impossible. Not only would I have no idea what to say or how to connect, but I’ve always believed that keeping my circle small allows me to give the right time and space to the people I feel closest to. That’s how I’ve been able to build big, meaningful relationships within my natural comfort zone.

And the “few adventures” are the ones that truly felt right for me. I was never going to throw myself into paragliding or rafting, I always politely said no to things that didn’t feel natural. I know, I must sound boring…

But inside that “little,” I have the chance to be “everything.” To be fully present and fully aware.

Also, my batteries don’t last that long! Every single thing carries a very specific weight for us neurodivergent folks, for a thousand different reasons. If you’ve made it this far, I’m guessing you’ve read some of the other things I’ve written (I hope). Trying to understand concepts that don’t come naturally to me, or other people’s expressions and feelings, takes a lot of energy. Managing social situations, with all their chaos, drains even more. And anything unexpected usually drains me further. There are endless examples… and when the batteries run out, it usually means “overload.”

So “little” means being able to give 100% to what really matters. Sometimes I manage it, sometimes it feels impossible. But I love the “little”.