We all have our preferences in futility. I have at various times made different forms of this observation, but today it struck me again as I watched my Mom weed her flower garden. I wouldn’t do that, I thought. It wasn’t because I thought weeding was too hard–weeding is easy. It wasn’t because I hate weeding–weeding is okay, and I actually enjoy the appearance of a weeded garden.
The futility of weeding is what gets to me. You spend a lot of time weeding a garden and a week later you need to do it all over again. And again. And again. It’s like running in place and never getting anywhere, or building castles in the sand only to have the tide destroy them. My reaction is, “I have only so many hours in the day and if a garden is not going to stay weeded for a good long time, I’m not going to weed it.†This is why I work better with vines and trees. The repetitive maintenance activity is seasonal, not every week.
But I’m not some high-minded person who thinks he abstains from such ridiculous things as futile activity. I know I simply prefer other forms of futility. Read more here.
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Oh, Rundy, don’t delete your work! That’s your compost pile, fertile ground for fresh ideas to morph from old.
Put your stuff away for a year, or more, then randomly return to it and see if it leads you somewhere… or dig it up when something you are working on tickles a past project.
Nothing then, is wasted.