Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars

Thomas à Kempis, the humble monk and author of The Imitation of Christ, once spoke with the voice of eternity: “Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary nature.” These words, though born in the cloisters of the fifteenth century, carry the weight of timeless wisdom. They remind us that to rise above the heaviness of the world, one does not require wealth, power, or grandeur, but the lightness of spirit that comes only through purity and simplicity. Like wings to a bird, these virtues lift the soul beyond the burdens of earthly desire.

What is purity? It is not merely freedom from stain of body, but clarity of heart, a single-minded devotion to truth, to love, to God, to that which is eternal. The pure heart is undivided—it does not wander in a thousand conflicting desires. It is as clear water that reflects heaven without distortion. And what is simplicity? It is the art of living with few distractions, of choosing what is essential over what is excessive, of refusing to be entangled in the web of possessions, appearances, and false pride. Together, purity and simplicity give the soul wings, freeing it from the chains of vanity, envy, and greed.

The ancients, too, knew this secret. The Stoics of Greece and Rome sought to live simply, desiring little, content with virtue as their wealth. In the East, sages of India and China proclaimed that simplicity of life was the path to harmony with the divine order. And in the Christian tradition, from the desert fathers to Francis of Assisi, the saints who seemed closest to heaven were those who lived with unburdened hearts, clothed in purity and simplicity rather than gold and silk.

Consider the story of Francis of Assisi. Born into riches, he cast away his garments before the bishop, renouncing his father’s wealth to live as a beggar for Christ. To the world, it looked like madness; but with the purity of his devotion and the simplicity of his life, he soared higher than kings and emperors. His name became immortal, not because he ruled, but because he shed every chain. His life is a living testament to à Kempis’s words: that true freedom is not found in abundance, but in release.

There is also a heroic defiance in this teaching. The world entices us with the glitter of temporary nature—possessions, honors, pleasures. But à Kempis calls them what they are: fleeting, fragile, dust in the wind. To cling to them is to bind our wings with lead. Only by embracing purity and simplicity can the soul fly beyond what perishes, into the realm of the eternal. This is no passive wisdom; it is a battle-cry for those who would be free.

The lesson for us, then, is clear: if we would rise above the noise and heaviness of our age, we must cultivate these two wings. Seek purity by guarding the heart—keeping your motives true, your conscience clear, your love untainted by selfishness. Seek simplicity by shedding the unnecessary—possessions that weigh you down, commitments that fracture your spirit, habits that enslave your time. For every unnecessary burden removed, your wings grow lighter, and your flight rises higher.

Practical action is within reach. Begin by examining your daily life: where can you choose simplicity over excess? Where can you choose purity of intention over compromise? Let your home reflect simplicity; let your words reflect purity; let your choices be guided not by vanity, but by truth. Practice gratitude, which makes the simple life abundant. Practice mindfulness, which keeps the heart free of corruption.

And so, Thomas à Kempis’s words ring across the centuries: “Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary nature.” Let us not walk chained to the ground, dazzled by what fades, but let us take up these wings, and rise. For in that rising lies freedom, and in that freedom, the soul glimpses eternity.