Simple But Not Easy: Enjoying the Doing
More 3-minute lessons I've learned while mowing my yard.
Photo by Jeremy Boley on Unsplash
My yard takes about hour to mow. I usually do so once a week before work.
A few months back, due to a back injury, I couldn’t do so.
I flagged down the neighborhood landscaping guy—a long-winded retired fella who spent his days carting around a regular push mower in his old pickup between old ladies’ yards. He delightfully obliged to cut my yard for an unbeatable price.
And he did a great job—better than I had ever done.
“So, when would you like me to come back next week?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. My back should be healed up by then. Thank you, though.”
“No problem. Anytime.”
Walking back to his truck, he seemed just a little confused—like he’d lost a customer.
And the arrangement would be confusing according to modern productivity gurus—those who recommend that folks outsource duties to others when (a) there is someone out there who can do them better than they can do them and especially (b) for cheaper than what you’d earn per hour executing your own expertise.
Doing the math, it does seem like the local yard man did a better job than me, for less per hour than I’d earn doing my own expertise. Economically, it would be preferable to leave pushing mowers and swinging weed-eaters to him. It would certainly save me the effort and mess of mowing my own yard.
But here’s the thing: I enjoy mowing my yard because it’s hard. And dirty. And messy.
Policing the yard for rocks and obstacles.
Pushing my not-self-propelled mower up the hills.
Changing out the weed-wacker line.
Bagging up the grass.
Wiping dirt off of my hands on my sweat-soaked dungarees.
Not only do I enjoy this mess and energy spent in the moment, but the mess and energy also make me enjoy my yard more.
One of my favorite break-time activities is walking over to the window in my home office and peering out at the sun reflecting off the freshly-cut green blades of grass in my backyard. And part of the reason I enjoy it as much as I do is because of the pushing, bagging, and brow-wiping that went into it.
Looking to simplify our lives is a noble pursuit, but so often, we confuse “simple” with “easy.”
It would be far easier to hire the yard man to cut my grass. But that doesn’t necessarily contribute to my goal of a simple life.
A simple life can still be filled with arduous tasks. The Amish, probably considered the most “simple living” population in the modern world are also known for being among the hardest working. There’s nothing “easy” about an Amish life, though there is an encompassing peace that emerges from such a simple existence.
Now, I know its a stretch to compare mowing my grass with a modern electric lawn mower to swinging a scythe or an ax on the farm. Still, there is a satisfying simplicity to breaking a sweat or getting dirty in service to a task even when someone else can do it better (or even cheaper) than you can.
For this reason, I find life to be more meaningful when I aim for what is simple, even if it isn’t always what is easy.