I love sweeping my courtyard. And I don’t mean that in figurative sense. I mean that I literally love sweeping my courtyard. I don’t know why this is, but it’s a ‘chore’ that I look forward to. I don’t feel this way about vacumming the house, or cleaning the toilet, or clearing the gutters. But sweeping? That’s for me!
Perhaps it’s something about the way it creates fertile ground for creative thought. After all, there’s plenty of science to tell us that mindless, repetitive tasks are some of the best moments for ‘lightbulb’ moments. I have a lot of lightbulb moments when I’m sweeping the courtyard. Far fewer when doing the other things. I wonder if that’s why I never see a monk using a leaf blower?
In a world that’s trying to systematically solve for mindless repetitive tasks (like sweeping with the invention of domestic leaf blowers), so that we can spend time on more ‘useful’ things – which likely equates to working longer hours and being more ‘productive’ – finding space for that fertile ground of creative thought is becoming more difficult. “Why sweep when you can be done in half the time with a leaf blower?”
But, what’s the endpoint of the systematic removal of mindless, repetitive tasks from our daily lives? Do we find more lightbulb moments in our hyper-focussed, task-oriented economy? The science tells us it’s unlikely.
Maybe what happens is we become less ‘creative‘. Less able to connect abstract ideas from different domains to create something entirely new. So what happens in its place? Do we end up taking small evolutionary steps rather than setting ourselves up for big leaps of innovation? Maybe it’s simpler to do it this way, more convenient? After all, no one wants something truly original. Maybe what we really want is no surprises? But I’m not sure that’s true. I like surprises. And I like surprising people. So, I’ll keep sweeping the stones whilst the rest of the world picks up their leaf blowers.
A poem: Sweeping the courtyard
The courtyard is full of leaves
it has been that way for some time
so I take my broom
straw, and bound with cobwebs
and sweep
sweep
sweep
a little
until I can feel the earth again.