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Abstract

ions to yourself. We don’t care and we don’t need to hear it. Zip it.See how easy that was? A few simple adjustments and presto! We are on our way to a smoothly running enterprise here.And now let’s stop for just a moment and imagine my ideal world of friction-less efficiency.Every line, clean and straight. No jumbled up, messed up, mixed up piles of who-knows-what anywhere. Nothing wasted. Everything and everyone used to their maximum potential; nothing left over. Every inch of space maximized. Nothing left undone. No reach hesitates and no step goes wrong. Confidence. Certainty. Clarity. No one screws up and no one stands around apologizing.Can you see it?Isn’t it just horrifying?Somewhere along the line I picked up the unspoken certainty that mistakes result in annihilation. Writing it out like that, it sounds ridiculous because it is. And yet when I am slow in giving a friend the correct directions while driving to a gallery that’s showing my work and she misses her turn, she shrugs. To me it’s a disaster. To her it’s just a matter of finding another turn.<figure id="73e5"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*IfMUuNM8jtMHWQkXqPYWiQ.png"><figcaption>Photo taken by <a href="https://medium.com/@aleXanderhirka">aleXand

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er hirka</a></figcaption></figure>All the stuff we’re not “supposed” to do? You do it. I do it. I cry in front of friends (and then they know it’s ok to do that, too…some of them). I screw up and don’t return calls. So then? I go apologize.I don’t steal anymore but I sure used to. I catch myself lying and rat on myself. I still want to take the bigger piece of cake; the corner piece with the extra icing.There’s a pole star I aim for these days. I didn’t used to; I’d just wreck shit and keep going. Now I make the daily effort to keep the mess to a minimum and clean up after myself.But I also don’t worry too much about getting it exactly right. Or even mostly right.There’s a kind of rough importance to the messiness of our lives. Without it stretching out in all directions is sterility and silence. There are no hands reaching out to help. There is no ground to gain.We are beautifully, insanely, perfectly imperfect. The mess, the waste, the screw-ups, those are where we have our chance to grow and open up and reach out and pick each other up. Without waste, without messiness, without mistakes we’re ticking parts in a machine. Click. Into place. Click. Next move. Click. Forward. Click. Dead.© Remington Write 2019. All Rights Reserved</article></body>

Waste Not, Live Not

How efficiency and perfection kill us

Efficiency efficiency they say Get to know the date and tell the time of day — John Cale, “Paris 1919”

What a God awful mess. In every direction: catastrophe. Environmentally, politically, financially, personally, emotionally, spiritually, and humanly. We are so screwed.

Being a Capricorn of German descent, I need to fix this. There has to be a way and I’m the person to do it.

Pay attention.

First: Stop with the fear-driven greedy grabbing, dammit. There are enough cookies for everyone. Look at you with your mouth bulging, your hands full, and still reaching for more. What’s the matter with you?

Second: Just clean up after yourself. You think you’re keeping someone in a job by leaving your trash behind you on the train? Like it’s going to kill you to take your own trash and throw it away. Grow up.

Third: Mind your business and keep your opinions to yourself. We don’t care and we don’t need to hear it. Zip it.

See how easy that was? A few simple adjustments and presto! We are on our way to a smoothly running enterprise here.

And now let’s stop for just a moment and imagine my ideal world of friction-less efficiency.

Every line, clean and straight. No jumbled up, messed up, mixed up piles of who-knows-what anywhere. Nothing wasted. Everything and everyone used to their maximum potential; nothing left over. Every inch of space maximized. Nothing left undone. No reach hesitates and no step goes wrong. Confidence. Certainty. Clarity. No one screws up and no one stands around apologizing.

Can you see it?

Isn’t it just horrifying?

Somewhere along the line I picked up the unspoken certainty that mistakes result in annihilation. Writing it out like that, it sounds ridiculous because it is. And yet when I am slow in giving a friend the correct directions while driving to a gallery that’s showing my work and she misses her turn, she shrugs. To me it’s a disaster. To her it’s just a matter of finding another turn.

All the stuff we’re not “supposed” to do? You do it. I do it. I cry in front of friends (and then they know it’s ok to do that, too…some of them). I screw up and don’t return calls. So then? I go apologize.

I don’t steal anymore but I sure used to. I catch myself lying and rat on myself. I still want to take the bigger piece of cake; the corner piece with the extra icing.

There’s a pole star I aim for these days. I didn’t used to; I’d just wreck shit and keep going. Now I make the daily effort to keep the mess to a minimum and clean up after myself.

But I also don’t worry too much about getting it exactly right. Or even mostly right.

There’s a kind of rough importance to the messiness of our lives. Without it stretching out in all directions is sterility and silence. There are no hands reaching out to help. There is no ground to gain.

We are beautifully, insanely, perfectly imperfect. The mess, the waste, the screw-ups, those are where we have our chance to grow and open up and reach out and pick each other up. Without waste, without messiness, without mistakes we’re ticking parts in a machine. Click. Into place. Click. Next move. Click. Forward. Click. Dead.