You've read self-help books. The "how to live" frameworks for life. But still haven't found the answers you are looking for. Well, sometimes the answer to our best lives isn't more complex systems. I came across this short quote by Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the eldest child of U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt. It sums up many ancient principles for life. She said, "I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches." I think there's a simple wisdom here. Three things to do.

Fill what's empty

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." — Heraclitus

Your body knows what it needs before your mind does. It detects deficits and pushes you toward correction. There's a word for it: homeostasis. You don't need to consciously decide to breathe faster when you run. You don't think your way into feeling hungry. Your system detects deficits and pushes you toward correction. The same principle applies beyond biology. When you're missing the fundamentals of life: connection, purpose, meaning. Your entire system sends you signals to fill that gap. You can't focus on self-actualisation when you're lonely. You can't create when you're burned out.

But most people are terrible at recognising what's empty.

They feel restless but feed their minds with everything that makes it worse. More anxious media. You feel anxious, so you work more. When you should be decompressing. Resting. We treat symptoms when we should be focusing on deficits. People who can precisely identify their emotions make better life choices about what they need for their mind and body. Don't mislabel "I feel dismissed" as "I feel bad.

They fill the right empty spaces.

I spent the first few years of my career feeling vaguely dissatisfied. My life had become too predictable. Until I closed all the sources and followed my natural drift. "I have never succeeded very much in anything in which I was not very interested," says legendary investor Charlie Munger. "If you can't somehow find yourself very interested in something, I don't think you'll succeed very much, even if you're fairly smart," he once said.

Sometimes what's empty is obvious but it's common knowledge. So we ignore them. Your sense of competence, feeling of contribution, and your level of experience in life. They matter just as much as the bigger picture.

What we don't realise is that your brain treats emptiness like a threat. When your conscious needs are not met, your body shifts into protection mode. That means you start wanting quick comfort that makes things worse. You turn to infinite social updates. Alcohol and all the easy things you turn to. But you become more reactive in the process. You get more pessimistic. You lose patience. And stop focusing on healthy long-term habits. Sleep loss alone increases emotional reactivity and reduces cognitive control. You become easily triggered. More likely to interpret neutral things as annoying or threatening. So when you say, "Why am I like this?" Half the time, the answer is you're tired.

"Self-regulation failure" makes life worse.

The sources of our "bad days" are usuallly the basics: low social connection, no meaningful pursuits. And no quality recovery time.

Go for a walk when you'd rather refresh your inbox. Reconnect with someone when you'd rather isolate yourself. Take a nap or do nothing when you'd rather push through. Most people try to fix emptiness with more effort. More work. More discipline. More pressure. That will only backfire.

You need a refill.

Empty what's full

"The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak. "― Hans Hofmann

We all resist this one.

Even when it's making us worse. Your calendar is full. Your mind is absolutely crammed with obligations, resentments, half-finished thoughts, and that thing someone said to you decades ago that you're still mad about. It gets worse. All that breaking news, open tabs (literal and mental), emotional clutter, people's expectations are killing your capacity to function. Your mind wasn't designed for this much input. And the consistent "task switching" is not helping. Switching costs are a thing. Even if the switch feels quick, your brain has to reorient, reload context, and regain momentum. That means when you spend your day half-working and half-checking your phone, you don't just lose time.

You lose quality of thought.

You end up mentally full. But still unsatisfied.

But you are still holding onto them.

Your working memory has strict limits. When it's full, your ability to process new things, make decisions, and regulate emotions plummets. Your brain literally can't take on more when it's done. The same applies to your physical space. Clutter in your environment competes for your attention and reduces your brain's ability to focus. But we keep adding. More commitments. More possessions. More inputs.

Emptying doesn't have to feel like loss.

Emptying what's full is how you create room for what matters. The essentials of life. Marie Kondo became a global phenomenon by giving people permission to subtract. Less physical clutter means less stress, better focus, and improved quality of life.

This goes beyond stuff. Your social obligations might be full. Your digital consumption is almost certainly full. Your emotional baggage, the grudges you're carrying, the guilt you're holding onto, the expectations on your shoulders. They are all full. And a rethink. I had a friend who wouldn't stop going on about everything I should be doing for him. We'd grown in different directions. But I kept it going for years out of loyalty and guilt before finally having an honest conversation. "I can't keep talking to you like this if you don't stop the complaining," I told him. Detaching from the drama, respectfully created space for better relationships. What's overflowing in your life right now? Not what should be full or what you wish was full. What's actually overflowing but making your life worse?

Empty it.

You will notice the difference in mind and body.

"Empty what's full" means subtraction is a life skill. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is say, "I'm not doing that this year." "I'm not available for that." "I'm not reading this." "I'm not explaining myself." "I'm not keeping this friendship alive by force." Build better boundaries.

It's the responsible thing to do.

Scratch where it itches

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." — Rumi

This is the most interesting part.

An itch is a message.

And most of us spend our lives ignoring our itches. We've been trained to ignore our itches. To power through. To stop listening to our intuition. To not make a fuss. To wait for the right time or someone else's permission. That's why most people distract from it. And overwork it.

Meanwhile, the itch persists.

And you end up with "need frustration."

The discomfort isn't always the enemy. Sometimes it's the doorway. If you keep ignoring what's bothering you, it grows. Frustration of basic psychological needs (autonomy, competence, relatedness) doesn't just create mild discomfort. It actively undermines your life. Your itch is data. It means something requires attention. Sometimes the itch is literal. Your back hurts because you've been sitting wrong for three hours. Scratch it. Stand up. Stretch. It's obvious.

But you override these signals until you're in great pain.

An itch can also be situational. Something at work bothers you. The temperature, colleagues' loud conversations, the way meetings run, and the tone your manager uses. You can scratch that itch by speaking up, rearranging your space, or setting a boundary. But most people don't. They normalise the discomfort until they're miserable. Some itches can't be ignored. If you can do something about it, do it. If you feel constantly irritated at work, the itch might be that you're underpaid, or you're doing meaningless tasks. Or you have no autonomy. You could be burnt out. And even surrounded by people you can't respect.

Scratching could mean asking for changes, switching teams, setting boundaries or leaving. Or simply admitting " I hate this." Which is already a scratch. Because denial is its own kind of suffering.

Sometimes the itch is existential.

You're in the wrong career. The wrong city. The wrong relationship. And that's the itch we're most afraid to scratch because scratching it means change, and change is terrifying. But the thing is, people don't regret the actions they took. They regret inaction. They regret the itches they refused to scratch because it seemed too hard, too late or too risky. But it can make you miserable. You will feel bored, underutilised or cynical. Scratching some itches can feel irresponsible.

Can you relive the experience for the next ten years?

If not, start investing in your exit plan. Obviously, you can't scratch every itch impulsively. Some itches require a good approach. Some require resources you don't have yet. But at least acknowledge it. Treat it as a legitimate signal. That's step one. The "itch" you avoid becomes the problem you live with. If you don't address small discomfort, it grows. This is true in relationships. And in health. It's true at work. It's true in how you perceive yourself. Most people don't explode out of nowhere. They stay frustrated for years. Then they burst.

Scratching early prevents the explosion of emotion.

You don't have to overhaul your entire life to practice Longworth's philosophy. A lot of life advice makes you feel like you need a whole new personality. All her quote requires from you is that you notice what's happening in your life. And respond. That's all. Start with one. You fill one empty space. Empty one full cup. Scratch one itch. It's the simple permission to trust your own experience of what you need, what you don't, and what bothers you. That's how you become calmer. Think clearly. And take control of the direction of your life.