the magic of the ordinary: how simple moments shape us

I grew up in Iowa where practicality was a way of life. My family epitomized quiet Midwestern humility — nothing frilly or extravagant.

My parents didn’t have a lot of money, and our summer vacations were spent camping. Mostly in Iowa and Wisconsin, but one summer we ventured as far away as Michigan. My mom hated camping, but it’s what they could afford, so she made the best of it.

I envied my friends who went to Disneyland.

Humility was etched into my bones. My grandfather owned one of the largest farms in Iowa, yet he wore worn overalls and drove an old car every day of his life. He reserved his one suit for Sunday church. There was no pretense, no need to prove anything. The adults around me were unassuming, hardworking, and wholly uninterested in appearances.

Flashy wasn’t part of their vocabulary.

A World of Contrast

I attended Iowa State University because it’s where my parents went (and my mother, bless her heart, believed it was the best school in the country). No one I knew was going out of state, except for the star football player who got a scholarship. I earned a degree in computer science and went to work, but a serious car accident upended everything. After several months of recovery, I took a leap and used the insurance money to apply to the Ph.D. program at the University of Chicago.

It was there that I encountered a very different world. My classmates had grown up in circumstances I’d only seen in books. They spoke of boarding schools, childhoods spent abroad, and fathers who were diplomats, CEOs, or university presidents. One friend’s father directed a major orchestra; another had lived on three continents before she turned eighteen.

Their lives were filled with glamour and sophistication, and though they never said it outright, I felt the gap between us. I’ll never forget the day one classmate, who had attended elite boarding schools, sneered and called Iowa State a “Midwest factory.”

At the time, I felt a quiet shame about my upbringing, dismissing it as boring and unworthy. I envied their exotic childhoods, believing their lives carried weight and importance while mine felt insignificant and small. But as I’ve grown older, I see those quiet, ordinary moments in a different light — they were rich with meaning, connection, and depth.

For a long time, I felt ‘less than,’ but now I understand that my upbringing — though far from glamorous — offered me something profound. My simple childhood was filled with heart.

The wisdom of the heart is simple. Simplicity allows it to shine through.

Simplicity is about what’s real

In a culture obsessed with “bigger, shinier, better,” we often overlook the quiet power of what’s small and real. Complexity dazzles us, but it also distracts us from the simple things that truly nourish us.

When life gets too complicated, our heads jump in, trying to “figure it out.” We analyze, overthink, and construct intricate stories. But when we do this, we lose connection to the quiet, intuitive knowing of the heart.

I’ve seen this time and again in my work. A woman named Ann came to one of my workshops after years of trying to think her way to answers. She was stuck, frustrated that her logical solutions never panned out as expected.

During the workshop, I guided her through an exercise to access her intuitive, metaphorical mind — no analysis, no stories, no figuring things out. Instead, I asked her to feel her way to an answer.

I asked Ann to close her eyes and visualize her question as an image. After a pause, she described seeing herself as a tree with deep roots, reaching into rich soil. It was simple, yet profound.

In the weeks that followed, Ann returned to that image often. Instead of chasing quick fixes, she leaned into the feeling of being rooted in nurturing soil. Her insights didn’t come in a linear way, nor did they directly address her initial questions. But she began to notice a shift. Her understanding was natural and deeply felt, rather than calculated or complex.

This is the power of simplicity. It bypasses the chatter of the mind and speaks straight to the essence of who we are.

Staying Simple

In my individual sessions, clients receive similarly simple images — a tree, a waterfall, or a cloud. They sometimes worry the images are “too basic” to be meaningful. But the simplicity of these images is precisely why they are so potent — they are portals to higher guidance.

Simplicity isn’t a lack of substance. It’s an invitation to something deeper.

Albert Einstein once said, “When the solution is simple, God is answering.”

When clients overanalyze or create stories, they stay stuck in their heads. But when they take a pause and allow themselves to feel the qualities of a simple metaphor — like fire, letting go, a sturdy mountain, or rootedness — they move into a place of deep emotional connection.

The profoundness of metaphor is actually quite simple: we feel it. When clients experience the essence of a metaphoric image, their hearts open. Only then do they get the breakthrough.

It’s simple. But not easy.

Simplicity holds magic

There’s a song by Guy Clark that always moves me. In Stuff That Works, he sings:

Stuff that works, stuff that holds up
The kind of stuff you don’t hang on the wall
Stuff that’s real, stuff you feel
The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall

I grew up with things that were real.

Simplicity strips away the unnecessary, revealing the essence of a thing. It’s not about outward appearances. It’s about depth.

Jean Dubuffet beautifully expressed this in his reflections on art:

“Take dance for example. I consider it absolutely pointless to put fifty sumptuous decked-out dancers on the stage; for what I am looking for, a single dancer will do… Similarly, the effect produced by music never seems to me to be improved by the use of large orchestras. The Bedouin in the desert seems to obtain as much or more playing alone on his little flute.”

Dubuffet’s words remind us that doing less creates space for something deeper to emerge. It’s not about adding more; it’s about honoring what’s essential.

Simplicity holds magic.

Yo-Yo Ma said something similar about simply playing a single note…with great feeling. The simplicity allows the feeling to come through. True power isn’t found in complexity, but in the depth of what’s simple.

My grandfather’s weathered overalls, the camping trips of my childhood, my parents’ vegetable garden, and even the paper lunch sack I carried to school were filled with heart.

I just didn’t know it at the time.

Simplicity isn’t a lack of sophistication. It’s the foundation of what matters most. Just as I watched my father and grandfather plant seeds and tend the soil, I’ve come to see that what’s valuable doesn’t lay on the surface.

Returning to simplicity hasn’t just reshaped how I see my childhood; it’s become the foundation of how I live and work. It’s why I guide my clients into their heart — because that’s where real change happens.

What Truly Matters

Complicated is not powerful. Simple is. Complexity keeps us in our heads, tangled in knots as we try to think our way through things. Simplicity, on the other hand, bypasses the mental chatter and brings us straight into the heart of what matters.

In my work, I often tell clients, “The simpler the metaphor, the more powerful it is.” Simplicity invites us into a visceral, embodied knowing — a connection with life’s creative energies that transcends logic. It’s a shift from thinking to being.

While the internet celebrates artifice and showmanship, with influencers curating perfect lives and posing in exotic destinations, my simple, humble roots have served me well. Although my parents would never have articulated this, they taught me to value what’s real over what’s flashy, and what’s deep over what’s superficial.

When we connect with the heart, everything else falls into place.

This is not to diminish the value of extraordinary experiences. But as the forms of our lives change, the essence of who we are is what remains. Simplicity invites depth, and depth is where magic happens.

My simple Iowa roots didn’t just ground me. They showed me how to live.

What about you? How can you embrace simplicity in your life so you can reconnect with what truly matters?