How do you know what’s essential?
Life, as it turns out, doesn’t stop piling on distractions.
One rainy afternoon, I opened my laptop intending to do something productive—write an email, finish a project, or maybe even learn something new. Instead, I was immediately ambushed by chaos.
My desktop was a battlefield of random files: “finalfinal.doc,” “finalREALLYfinal.pdf,” and inexplicably, a photo of a llama I didn’t even remember downloading. My email inbox had 5,432 unread messages. Tabs were multiplying like rabbits. Somewhere in the digital mess, I realised, was my life. And it needed help.
I decided to declutter my digital world then and there. At first, I thought it would be quick—delete a few files, archive some emails, and be done. But as I started sorting through the mess, something emerged. It wasn’t just about cleaning up. It was about figuring out what was worth keeping. It was about finding what was essential.
Decluttering is an ancient struggle disguised in a modern physical or digital disguise. Even the Stoics, thousands of years ago, knew the importance of focus. Roman emperor and philosopher Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations, “If you seek tranquillity, do less.”
But that’s easier said than done when your phone pings every five seconds and your to-do list stretches into infinity.
The digital world is like a giant buffet, constantly serving us more—emails, notifications, apps, everything.
But as anyone who’s ever overstuffed their plate knows, more isn’t always better. Often, it’s just overwhelming.
Social media, for example. How many hours have I spent scrolling, thinking I’ll check one thing, only to emerge an hour later, dazed and holding nothing of value? And yet, how much of it was essential in that endless stream of posts, likes, and memes?
To figure that out, I had to take a step back. Philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre remind us that life is about choice. We don’t get meaning handed to us; we create it. Every tab I closed, every file I deleted, was a small act of choosing. Was this meme folder adding to my life? No. Was the half-finished story I’d forgotten about? Absolutely.
The hardest part wasn’t deleting things—it was deciding. Some files felt important simply because they’d been there so long. But as I sifted through them, I remembered what the fox told the Little Prince: “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” The essential isn’t in the noise; it’s in the quiet, meaningful connections hiding underneath.
The essentials were simpler than expected: the family photos buried in obscure folders, the projects I cared about but had forgotten, and the playlists that made me feel alive. It wasn’t about having a perfectly organised desktop. It was about creating space for what mattered.
The funny thing about digital clutter is that it sneaks up on you. Every notification, every saved email, every “just in case” download feels harmless. But over time, they pile up; before you know it, you’re drowning in your data. This is where a little Zen wisdom comes in handy.
Shunryu Suzuki, a Zen master, once said, “In the beginner’s mind, there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind, there are few.”
Decluttering is about returning to a beginner’s mindset—not letting the clutter dictate your life but deciding, with fresh eyes, what possibilities you want to keep.
Of course, decluttering—digital or otherwise—is never finished. New emails come in, apps demand updates, and tabs mysteriously reopen.
Life, as it turns out, doesn’t stop piling on distractions.
But that’s okay. As Viktor Frankl, the existentialist psychiatrist, taught us, what truly matters isn’t avoiding the chaos but finding purpose within it. The essential isn’t something static; it’s something you repeatedly discover.
So, if your digital life feels overwhelming, start small. Delete a few files. Unsubscribe from the emails you never read. Take a moment to ask yourself: What do I really need? What can I let go of?
When you find what’s essential, it’s not just your desktop that gets clearer. It’s your mind. It’s your life. And in a world of infinite distractions, that clarity is priceless.
