"Tea ceremony is a way of worshipping the beautiful and the simple. All one’s efforts are concentrated on trying to achieve perfection through the imperfect gestures of daily life. Its beauty consists in the respect with which it is performed. If a mere cup of tea can bring us closer to God, we should watch out for all the other dozens of opportunities that each ordinary day offers us." Kakuzo Okakura, tea master, as recorded by Paulo Coelho in Like the Flowing River

Hanging on the wall in a quaint gift shop at the New Jersey shore is a hand carved wooden sign that reads, "Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be joyful." The black and white photo above the words portrays the image of a country grandma, hair pulled up in a bun, her plain cotton dress protected by a flowered print apron tied at the neck and waist.

She stands in the doorway of a tired wooden shack. Old-fashioned baking utensils and mottled pottery are visible through the door. It’s not hard to imagine she has just finished mixing up a home-made pie or two. Obviously, she doesn’t have much, as far as money or belongings go, but she exudes an aura of contentment.

At least for me, the image provoked feelings of wistfulness, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who considered purchasing the sign. Many people seem to yearn for days gone by. Of course, in reality, such a homespun country life as the one implied by the image brought with it innumerable challenges and hardships. But the message of the words still embodies an understanding of the principal of simplicity; the reality that the most meaningful things in life are not the wealth and success our culture entices us to strive for, but those moments when we realize joy in the blessings of life and love.

The real problem doesn’t lay in our having money. The erosion of our spiritual life begins when our desire to possess the things money can buy leads us to compromises that damage our personal and family lives. When not having something destroys our joy, then it is time to acknowledge that our attachment to things other than God is leading us away from God.

"Everything we possess that is not necessary for life or happiness becomes a burden, and scarcely a day passes that we do not add to it," writes author Robert Brault.

As I grow older, and hopefully, wiser, I realize the truth in his words, and become increasingly aware of how much I have contributed to the weight of my own burdens; how much I have wounded the "whole" of who I am with worry and with attachment, and, ultimately, I am reminded of how far I have moved away from the spiritual principal of simplicity.

To restore wholeness first requires a restoration of relationships, to God, to created things and other people. Within those relationships we discover the joy that leads to a deeper understanding of who we are meant to be.

"Tis the gift to be simple," wrote Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett, Jr., in 1848 when he composed the Shaker dance song, "Simple Gifts." Once an obscure piece of music, it has become a beloved religious song across the country. As with most well-loved music, the song has been recorded and, often re-written, not always to the benefit of the original. Today we are more familiar with a revised edition that changed the simple article "the" to "a." That one little letter changed the intent of the composer, who believed that simplicity was the gift of God. Perhaps the popularity of the song stems from the fact that, deep within the human heart, we believe it, too, even when we have trouble living it.

This man of simple faith has left the world with a simple song, a beautiful mantra for a deep and holistic spirituality:

" ‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free, ‘tis the gift to come down where you want to be, and when we find ourselves in the place just right, it will be in the valley of love and delight."