Simplify, simplify, simplify!

On March 17, 2001, I left Springer Mountain, Georgia, with all my belongings stuffed into a backpack and one goal in mind: to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. The A.T. is a footpath stretching from Georgia to Maine, covering nearly 2,200 miles with more than 464,000 feet of elevation gain and loss. It was a big adventure.

It was also a much simpler time. I wasn’t married yet, I didn’t have kids, and I’d taken a sabbatical from work. I didn’t even own a cell phone. Instead, I carried a calling card with me and checked in from pay phones along the way. Occasionally, I’d stop at a local library to borrow a computer so I could check my email.

During my time on the trail, my world was stripped down to the essentials. Everything I needed was in my backpack, and knowing I would have to carry it on my back made me think twice before adding anything to my load.

Since then, I’ve been fortunate to add many meaningful things to my life. I’m now married with two kids, a dog, a house, and a business to run. The responsibility and complexity each of these has added is part of the richness of life, and I’m thankful for them all. At the same time, having a full life doesn’t mean we can’t reclaim some of the freedom that comes from simplicity. Unfortunately, modern life seems to be moving us in the opposite direction.

These days, it feels like everything comes with another app, another password, or another account to manage. Everything has to be connected, monitored, updated, synchronized, and followed. While I was on the A.T., my concerns were the weather, the next water source, and where I would sleep that night. Now my attention is scattered across notifications, subscriptions, inboxes, calendars, and endless digital maintenance. In many ways, the mental weight of modern life feels heavier than the backpack I carried from Georgia to Maine.

The problem with complexity is that, just like adding weight to a backpack, it comes at a cost. Sometimes that cost shows up in the form of our time, energy, and focus. Other times it appears as miscommunication, misunderstanding, or added stress. Things can become so complicated that we lose sight of the big picture and forget why we were doing something in the first place. Instead of focusing on what truly matters, we end up spending our time managing the systems, processes, and distractions we created along the way. In the same way that carrying a lighter backpack allowed me to more fully enjoy my time hiking through the woods, I believe having less complexity in our lives today enables us to focus on and enjoy the things that matter most.

If that’s true, why do we keep adding complexity to our lives? Maybe it’s because more often feels like better. More options, more products, and more diversification can create a false sense of greater opportunity, safety, or control. Complexity can even make us feel productive, intelligent, or hardworking. Sometimes a simple solution feels almost too simple, as though we’re not trying hard enough.

Or maybe complexity doesn’t arrive all at once but creeps in gradually. We don’t consciously choose a complicated life. Instead, we choose one more thing. One more account. One more strategy. One more subscription. One more commitment. Each addition seems harmless on its own, but over time the small pieces accumulate until the weight becomes difficult to carry. Just like adding a single item to a backpack, the burden doesn’t fully reveal itself until miles later, alongside everything else we’re carrying.

Nowhere is the temptation toward complexity more apparent than in personal finance. Wall Street is famous for making things complicated because complexity often sells. There’s always a new type of account, a hot investment, or a must-do-now strategy competing for our attention. Some of these ideas are prudent, some even necessary, but others are simply sales pitches dressed up as sophistication. Without discernment, we can end up carrying a backpack full of accounts, apps, and investments that distract us from what really matters instead of moving us closer to our goals.

That’s why I think it’s important to ask a few questions before adding anything new to our financial lives: What am I actually gaining by adding this complexity? Will it help me focus on the things that matter most? Will it give me more time with my family and friends? Does it create joy, meaning, or peace of mind? Or am I simply adding another layer to manage, monitor, and maintain?

A simple financial life is one where every element has a clear purpose, where we can explain what we own and why we own it. It creates space to think clearly, act intentionally, and focus our time and energy on the people and things that matter most. Whether we’re hiking long distances through the woods or simply navigating our daily lives, there is real value in learning what can be left behind.

As you might imagine, we at Beacon have some thoughts on simplicity. If this is something you’ve been thinking about, we’d love to talk.

“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify!” ~Henry David Thoreau

Geoff Hall, CFP®, RICP®
[email protected]

For nearly three decades, I’ve had the privilege of guiding families with what we at Beacon call real planning, sensible investing, and meaningful advice—so that money can truly be a blessing, not a burden. I consider it an honor to walk alongside my clients through both the ups and downs of the markets and the seasons of life. At home, I’m grateful for a life full of love and adventure. My wife, Crystal, and I have been married for 13 years, and together we’re raising our two kids, Cooper (11) and Rhodes (9). When I’m not with them, you might find me serving downtown at our church, pushing my limits on a mountain bike, or catching up with a friend over coffee in Raleigh’s Five Points area. Both personally and professionally, I’ve found that the best journeys are built on trust, relationships, and perspective. That’s why I’m passionate about helping families plan wisely and invest intentionally—so they can live generously and focus on what matters most.