less is more parenting
(Raising Renunciation—Nekkhamma)
Do everything with a mind that lets go. Don’t accept praise or gain or anything else. If you let go a little, you a will have a little peace; if you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace; if you let go completely, you will have complete peace.
BUDDHIST PROVERB
My son’s first sentence was “thank you,” confirming our suspicions that we were the parents of the century. His next phrase, however, was “I want that,” followed soon after with “I don’t want that,” usually rendered in an earsplitting scream. We quickly realized that we’d created a human being with desires and dislikes after all. Whether babies or adults, we all want what we want when we want it. And in our current culture, many of us can get the things we want when we want them. As a result, we’re swimming in stuff, but we are hardly any happier.
Despite smaller families, we now own bigger houses, we drive bigger cars, and our kids have more toys than ever before. With the rise in cheap labor, prices have dropped on almost everything, from toys to clothes and more. We can get almost anything we desire delivered to our doorstep with the click of a button, maybe even by drone. Despite enormous houses, Americans now spend billions on storage space. New technologies offer us instant access to entertainment anywhere we go, and changes in agriculture give us food that’s way cheaper and often less nutritious. Literally and figuratively, we are awash in empty calories.
All this “freedom of choice” in everything from toothpaste to parenting styles actually makes us more stressed and lonely, less happy, and even less motivated.1 In October 1998, the satirical newspaper The Onion announced, “Consumer Product Diversity Now Exceeds Biodiversity,” satirizing our culture’s carelessness about the environment and our consumer culture, all in one joke. As our options as consumers grow in the Western world, our happiness dwindles. In fact, Western cultures lead the world in depression, anxiety, and mental illness at all ages.2,3
Monastics and clergy of different traditions take a vow of poverty, relinquishing the comforts of this life. I’m not suggesting that you toss all your possessions to find happiness for your family—even the Buddha found a middle path between renouncing his inherited riches and living the harsh life of a wandering ascetic. But new parents often do make sacrifices, just without the vow. Consider everything you’ve had to give up as a parent—comfort, sleep, space, time, money, career advancement, intimacy with your partner, and more. It doesn’t take us very long as new parents to quickly abandon the dreams of white upholstery on the couch or spontaneous long weekends out of town. We often give up exercise and long leisurely meals. And mothers give up their body as something wholly their own. We forget all hopes of being cool—it’s letting go not only of those weeknight rock concerts but also to the idea that we can remain remotely dignified as we change a diaper on a screaming child in public. We sacrifice physical and mental space and often our own mental health. Think about it: we have become preoccupied with one creature every single day for the rest of our lives. And yet, we do all of this for love.
The word renunciation may sound harsh. That’s why I prefer the terms simplification, letting go, or even making space. When my wife was pregnant, we spent a lot of time worrying about what we’d lose, until my friend Harris pointed out that giving up my motorcycle or sacrificing vacations in Borneo weren’t for nothing. “It’s not like you don’t gain something for what you give up,” he reminded us. So we trade some familiar enjoyments for something more meaningful and deeper. We exchange the joy of “freedom” for the joy of connection, the joy of independence for interdependence.
reflection What are some ways your priorities have shifted since becoming a parent?
Types of Attachment
Traditional Buddhism describes four types of attachment that we will examine in this chapter. These essentially give us four types of letting go—attachments to pleasures and things, to unhealthy habits, to “wrong view” (limiting beliefs, emotional baggage, resentments, etc.), and to our sense of self and identity.
Letting Go of Stuff
Despite giving up so much when becoming parents, we ironically enter a whole new world of stuff—some necessary, but most not so much. With each child, the average household inventory expands another 30 percent.4 In the United States, we have 3 percent of the world’s children and 40 percent of the world’s toys,5 with the average child receiving 70 new toys a year—and that’s according to research that’s already a decade old.6 And still we continue to buy more stuff, even when a majority of parents believe their own children are spoiled!7
Some historians say that toys went from just being holiday gifts to becoming year-round purchases when the Mickey Mouse Club premiered in 1955.8,9 Today, any thirty-minute TV show includes at least eight minutes of advertisements, and much of the television programming for kids is rarely more than a twenty-two-minute commercial for tie-in toys or other merchandise. Even when they turn off their screens, our children are barraged with advertisements for toys, games, and the latest gadgets—not to mention having such goodies placed at child height in grocery stores, pharmacies, coffee shops, and more. So if you think it’s hard to resist, consider what you are up against. Corporations spend $17 billion a year marketing to kids—an almost 200-fold increase over the past thirty years.10 Marketing firms hire the best behavioral scientists in the world, who use the latest technology, such as MRI machines, to better locate the “want” button in our brains.
Considering all we’re up against, what can we do? For starters, we can explain to kids what marketing is and how it’s designed to fool our brains. (Check out the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood at commercialfreechildhood.org for some helpful ideas.) Next, we can set limits around buying toys and reserve gifts only for special occasions. This also gives kids something to look forward to (as opposed to expecting it), builds patience as they wait, enhances their appreciation, and makes them happier. Third, we can serve as healthy models by not overly engaging in retail therapy. If we regularly send the message to our kids that stuff buys happiness, we can’t expect them to learn otherwise.
My parents’ house—my teenage home—was recently destroyed in a fire. My parents are fine but lost nearly everything—books, clothing, heirlooms, and countless other possessions and comforts. I feel this loss, too, as the fire took not just my childhood memorabilia, but memories too. However, although this was heartbreaking and hard for all of us, there was also a strange relief, as if the loss of that house and its objects had lifted some kind of burden from us.
Deliberately (or accidentally, as in the case of the fire) getting rid of literal burdens is a liberating practice. As Bob Dylan said in “Like a Rolling Stone,” “When you ain’t got nothin’, you got nothing to lose.” In the recent bestseller The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Marie Kondo offers some simple advice for letting go of material things. For example, she suggests looking over each thing you own and asking yourself, “Does this spark joy?” If it does, keep it. If it doesn’t, express your gratitude for the purpose that thing once served and wish it a fond farewell.11 We can practice this with our children by regularly sorting through old toys and clothes, appreciating the items that still spark engagement and happiness, and enjoying the extra room we gain by saying goodbye to the things that don’t.
Kids need “mastery” of their toys, not superficial relationships with as many possessions as possible. You probably noticed early on in your child’s life that kids want the same books and games over and over again. The repetition might drive us adults crazy, but it’s actually critical for a child’s cognitive development. When kids have too many toys—even more than five at once—they are less able to focus enough to learn from and master them.12 You’ve also likely witnessed how creative and engaged kids become when they have to invent new toys and games out of virtually nothing. If necessity is the mother of invention, perhaps boredom is its father.
Research clearly backs the benefits of fewer toys. One telling study from Germany explored removing toys from a nursery school for three months. While the first days were tough for kids and staff alike, by the end of three months, the kids were playing more creatively, communicating and cooperating more effectively, and concentrating far longer than in their previously toy-filled classroom.13 Somehow, after a certain point, the more toys kids have, the more they seem to fight about them.
Yet, letting go is hard. Humans have been wired through evolution to believe that having more—more stuff, more food, more entertainment—will make us safer and happier, even when we have more than enough. For example, people are less likely to part with things they’ve spent “good money” on—a psychological principle known as the “sunk-cost fallacy” (though studies show that practicing mindfulness reduces this effect14). Yet most of us know that getting rid of things usually leads to more relief than regret.
With kids, consider engaging their imagination and natural compassion. For example, ask which toys are lonely or which stuffed animals might be happier (and might bring happiness) in a new home. Imagining the story of that toy’s next journey can help make the thank-you and goodbye that much easier. As parents, we can have trouble letting go of our kids’ tiny sweaters, first finger paintings, and miniature baby shoes, but when we purge most of the old stuff, we treasure what we keep that much more.
You could also set up a toy swap or a donation drive. Entrepreneurial kids can sell their old toys and spend the money on something new or donate that money to a good cause. A few years ago, I was jogging past a child’s yard sale in my neighborhood. I asked what they were using the money for, and the smiling seven-year-old informed me, “It’s for a charity that helps women trapped in abusive marriages.” Sometimes the motivation for letting go can be as simple as helping others.
Some degree of simplification doesn’t have to mean becoming an ascetic—monks and martyrs don’t usually have families to provide for, after all. But keep in mind that less is more—more space, more time, more money, more creativity, more gratitude, and more harmony and happiness. And yet, despite the romantic fantasies we may have harbored of our kids blissfully playing only with handcrafted wooden toys and contemplating nature, we also want them to be able to experience enough toys and culture so that they can connect with other kids.
reflection How much stuff does your family actually need? Are there things that immediately come to mind that you could donate or sell? By getting rid of some of your stuff, what might you immediately gain?
Renouncing Unhealthy Habits
The second type of attachment and letting go has to do with unhelpful and unhealthy habits. Specifically, I want to talk about our Western addiction to busyness. Filling our time with activity is almost expected of us, and we certainly don’t want others to see us as lazy. We are entertained when we are busy, and being busy also makes us feel important. But the habit of so much rushing becomes self-reinforcing to the point of absurdity.
Adults always seem to suffer from a lack of free time, but kids too are now missing out on free hours to play, explore, get curious, and just reflect. We shuttle our overscheduled children from school to sports and other after-school activities before bringing them home to a crushing mountain of homework. College-bound kids try to fill their résumés with an astonishing array of experiences and talents, leaving them exhausted jacks-of-all-trade and masters of none. Meanwhile, packed calendars leave kids with a sense of “learned helplessness;” they often feel as if they have little control over their own lives, stifling resilience, motivation, and determination, as well as setting the stage for depression and anxiety.
Sports have taken on greater and greater significance in the past decades, leading to overuse injuries in ever-younger children that were once seen only in professional athletes.15 Not to mention the growing cost of equipment, league fees, specialized summer training clinics, and individual coaches, plus the hours of driving across the state to tournaments. But it’s not just sports. One of my young patients informed me that he had to miss a session the following week because his team had made it to the statewide competition. “I didn’t know you did a sport,” I responded. “No, our drama team!” he explained. While it’s wonderful to see the arts elevated in this way, we don’t need to make everything a make-or-break competition. From mathletes to national robotics competitions to a cappella sing-offs, so many activities that our kids once just did for fun have become work to polish the college résumé instead of mere fun.
But what if we were to renounce at least some of this overstructured time and the professionalization of every activity and find a middle path—a healthy balance of structured and unstructured time to let kids freely play, explore, develop new insights, and make their own discoveries? Some leading companies have begun to implement a “20-percent time” program, in which employees can spend 20 percent of their time freely working on their own projects. At Google, this policy led to the creation of such products as Gmail and Google Maps. If this works so well for adults, perhaps we should consider a 20-percent time program at home and school.
Regardless of how we do it, it’s important to push back in some way against the crazy homework culture, which doesn’t remotely correlate with long-term learning. On top of that, we can deescalate the extracurriculars and advanced placement arms race and emphasize instead interest, passion, and follow-through, not to mention kindness. In good news, in a conversation I recently had with an Ivy League admissions officer, she explained that while elite colleges have long been able to identify and recruit top academic and athletic performers, they are now working on ways to identify those kids with deep passions, positive leadership attributes, and true community-mindedness at a young age and recruit them.
reflection How overscheduled are your children? How much actual joy and discovery are they getting out of their extracurricular activities? How much of your family time is taken up with shuttling your child from place to place?
For adults and children alike, the way most of us keep ourselves busy these days is through technology. Ideally, technology makes our lives easier and more connected, but we often use it in ways that stress us out and disconnect us more. A recent statistic showed that children and adults average nine hours of screen time daily, checking our devices about 150 times a day, almost none of which we are doing with full intention and attention.16 Mindlessly surfing the Internet or checking our social media is actually making us all unhappier. But remember, the power is in your hands—if the news makes you unhappy, don’t check it so often. If social media leads to too many unhappy comparisons, “hide” those parents with the smugly perfect family vacation photos. And remember, you don’t have to answer yes to every friend request.
Our screens are addictive to all of us, but they are especially addictive for children. And yet, we can’t expect our children to navigate their lives without screens—like it or not, screens are here to stay. Our kids rely on them for their homework, news, and social lives. But we can help them better manage how and when they use their devices, especially at home. When play is too screen-focused, kids’ brains fail to wire for social understanding, empathy, and emotional intelligence. The more kids play online, not looking at each other; it’s no surprise that so many kids grow up struggling to read facial expressions and body language. Eye contact with other humans is crucial for securing early attachment and emotional regulation. With kids interacting mainly with smooth, flat surfaces, it’s no wonder they struggle with sensory integration. Children play reactive video games that do little to help them learn to delay gratification or develop patience or impulse control. Even technologies designed and intended for educational purposes can hinder growth—those Baby Einstein videos and talking toys may actually curb language and cognitive development at a young age.17
New brains overstimulated with technology paired with under-stimulated young bodies make an unhealthy combination that hinders brain integration and healthy bodies. Fortunately, pediatricians have recently set some fairly clear guidelines for screen time: nothing for infants (except for video chats), an hour max for ages two to five, and no more than two hours from five on. When our kids do begin to interact with screens, we can talk through what they are seeing, just as we would with a book. More than anything, kids need genuine interpersonal exchange, especially with parents who can show them lovingkindness and patience.
Screens may dominate waiting rooms, airplane lounges, and restaurants, but even if we have them at home, they don’t have to dominate our lives. We can also make them less appealing. My own parents kept a lousy old black-and-white TV (without cable!) in an uncomfortable and out-of-the-way corner of the house, but they had books all throughout our home, which incentivized reading or going outside. My parents occasionally bought us toys for holidays, but they were far more generous with educational experiences and books. I was even allowed to extend my bedtime if I was reading.
If you can’t diminish the dominance of screens at home, you can stress the importance of taking breaks from screens and everything else. Consider how many religions make a point of celebrating space and rest through Sabbaths, holidays, retreats, and other periods of downtime. This tradition has largely slipped out of our secular lives. But by making sacred time—or at least renouncing a certain kind of busyness from work or screens—we actually make more space in our lives to appreciate what matters, get much-needed rest, and reduce family stress. My wife and I try (with mixed success) to enjoy one Sabbath day a week—no writing, no work emails, no business calls. We’ve found that doing so helps us relax and reconnect. What’s more, mindfully creating space like this somehow makes more room to get things done the rest of the week. We procrastinate a lot less on Friday when we know that Saturday will be family day. Sabbaths don’t have to be entire days, of course. You can start by spending a moment in silence or gratitude before family dinners, and you can mark the preciousness of those meals by staying off of your devices. Whatever you choose to try, don’t do it halfway. When you have to work, excuse yourself and work—don’t feel guilty; it’s okay if you have to work. But when you are with your kids, be fully present, not partially eyeing your phone or laptop.
Another option is to renounce screens by place—no devices at the dinner table or in certain rooms, or only on long car trips (not just while driving around town). One friend requests that her family leave their phones by the door when they come home, and many parents require that their kids charge their phones overnight in the kitchen. Another friend leaves his phone in the car while he shops. Merely having our phones in view cuts down on conversation, so it’s a good idea to put your phone out of sight during family time.
Of course, most schools require technology so kids can be technologically fluent, and yet I can’t think of a time I heard of a kid who needed special accommodations because they couldn’t figure out an iPad. There is something to the argument that we need to give kids screens so they can learn to manage them. But just think about it: we don’t hand over crack and suggest kids learn how to manage it. Rather it’s our job to show and teach them how to manage a reasonable amount of screen time; and keep them away from crack.
reflection What aspects of your relationship with technology would you like to change? How can you make more time and space for your family? As a child, what were the special times when you felt closest as a family?
We inherit a lot from our families—wonderful family heirlooms, meaningful traditions, and some healthy values. But we also inherit some old things we don’t want—not just those inexplicable knickknacks, but also the inexplicable memories, habits, and beliefs that we’d rather not pass on to our own kids. Ideally, we take the best of what our own family and culture bequeathed us and let go of the unhelpful aspects of our inheritance. In fact, as parents, this becomes our responsibility. We have to do the work of exorcising the ghosts of our ancestors, the trauma of our grandparents, and the addictions of our in-laws, because no one else will. No one else can.
Whether we call it the “repetition compulsion,” epigenetics, or karma, we are not doomed to repeat the mistakes and troubles of our ancestors. But not doing so takes work. The work begins with an understanding that we can let go of the belief that we are fated to repeat the past. While my friend Jack anxiously awaited his son’s birth, he was simultaneously caring for his aging, alcoholic father. Despairing the disconnected relationship with his dad, he tearfully confessed to his therapist, “I just don’t want my son to dread dealing with me someday, to dread my calls or visits. And it breaks my heart to know that day will eventually come.” His therapist just smiled and reminded him, “Jack, it doesn’t have to be that way.” So, first of all, we can examine, question, and let go of our limiting beliefs about the future.
We can also say goodbye to the belief that we aren’t good enough parents, though that thought will probably return again and again. What if we could let go of all the guilt by renouncing the word should from our inner dialogue? How much more energy would we have? Try making a practice of noticing how often you say should over the next week.
What if we could also let go of limiting beliefs about who our children should be? Our culture wants so much to put our kids in categories—gifted or special needs, sick or healthy, mentally ill or recovering, above or below average on one measure or another. Yet most of us know that when we categorize people like this, it limits who they are and who they can become. In one famous study, teachers were told that random kids in their classes were gifted, and those particular children (who were actually “normal”) excelled.18 Imagine how this plays out when we look at children with actual learning differences or the biases that follow lower-income kids, children of color, or girls. Is it any surprise that we see chasms of achievement open up between different children? As we think and act, our world becomes. When children see themselves as being bad at a particular subject in school (whether or not they need help), failure becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sometimes our kids will need support that can be gained through labels, but labeling them might also limit their possibilities.
We can also let go of our ideas of who we want our child to be, or we can at least try to do so. For no reason at all, my wife and I assumed that our first child would be a girl. When the ultrasound technician announced we’d be having a boy, my wife and I watched a whole story in our minds crumble away. My own therapist joked, “This is a good lesson for you two—he’s not even born yet, and he’s already let you down!” We all want great things for our children, but if we hold too tightly to our fantasies for their futures (their careers as doctors, their blissful relationships, their abundant offspring), we don’t allow them the room to grow their own abundant, rich, and unique lives.
Letting Go of Identification
What’s more, we can relinquish some of our culture’s limiting beliefs about what a family is supposed to look like. This might mean letting go of gender roles or family structures that we imagined growing up, especially as our culture evolves. It might also mean questioning the assumptions of our community or larger family system about what constitutes a good parent. How much time are you supposed to take off from work before you qualify as a “good” parent? What type of diaper are you required to buy in order to be a “good” mother? What style of discipline makes you a “good” father?
By letting go of unhelpful and unhealthy ideas, we practice the wisdom of forgiveness. Whether we let go of the notion that we’re bad parents, or that other people are irredeemably messed up, or that our partners are the root of all our problems, we can experiment with letting go as an act of kindness and generosity. As the adage says, “Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a better past.” And there’s plenty of research to back this up. Practicing forgiveness leads to increased emotional and psychological health, cultivates empathy, and even improves heart disease.19 On the other hand, clinging to our resentments builds stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, affecting our ability to think creatively, promoting sickness and negativity, and suppressing our tendency toward compassion and empathy.20 Hanging on to that anger will make you both sick and miserable.
PRACTICE Letting Go Visualization
Find a comfortable posture and relax as you take a few mindful breaths. After a few moments of relaxation, reflect on any resentments or other unhelpful beliefs you carry around with you on a daily basis. Choose a smaller belief that feels like something you could set aside for the rest of the day. What would it look like to not have to carry this resentment around with you?
Continue to breathe and relax as you visualize letting go of this workable belief. Release it from your grasp, just for now. If you have trouble letting go, remember that you can always pick up the belief again tomorrow.
After a few moments, take a few more deep breaths as you review the stories you tell yourself about your parenting. When was the last time you accused yourself of being a bad parent? How often have you leveled the accusation against yourself that you’re just like your mother or father? Think about what it would be like to let these thoughts go. Imagine what it would feel like if you didn’t require yourself to be perfect. What if you could live each day as a “good enough” parent?
Letting go is no easy feat. Remember: aim for the middle path. That means starting by becoming aware of what you really do and don’t need in your life, whether it’s stuff, habits, or beliefs. I once heard a meditation teacher say, “Being a monk is knowing you need to let go, but not being able to 90 percent of the time.” Does this sound familiar, parent friends? Meanwhile, another friend of mine recently proclaimed that parenting is just one lifelong process of letting go. And when the letting go gets tough, recall the other Buddhist advice: “You don’t have to let go; you just have to not hold on.”