Doing It Badly

"Anything worth doing is worth doing badly."

                           --G.K. Chesterton

I ran across this quote of early-twentieth century Christian philosopher G.K. Chesterton today, and it has really got me to thinking.  Quite frankly, at first pass, it makes absolutely no sense to me.

In truth, I would agree with the exact opposite statement to Chesterton's: anything worth doing is worth doing well.

To put it in modern terms, I am an over-achieving-type-A kind of person.  I got straight A's through school, receiving awards well into my college and medical school years, into my early career as a physician. This was my philosophy while growing up: if I didn't do something well, very well, then, I would simply stop doing it (take piano, swimming, and softball, for example).

Even today, I struggle to understand how people can be satisfied with the mediocre.  I see this in my children--they call a frumpy-bumpy comforter and scattered pillows as a "made" bed, and a semi-stringy head of hair as being "fixed."  Sigh.

But I am learning to see things their way, and envying the freedom they enjoy in the day-to-day goings on of our home.  In this crucible of motherhood, I am coming to have a better understanding of what Chesterton was getting at.

Let's face it: there are a lot of parts and pieces to my day that just must be done: Dishes. Laundry. Dinner. Errands. Dusting. And while I could spend a WHOLE lot of effort doing these things just so, let's be honest--a clean shirt (while it may not be perfectly ironed) is good enough, and a warm home-cooked meal (while it may not be out of a Bon Appetit magazine) is just plain good enough (and there would be too many groans and grumbles from the kids to make gourmet cooking so.not.worth.it at this stage of life, anyway!).

And, with that bit of effort saved from simply doing all-those-every-day-chores, in a more simple way, I am given in return the soul space to sit and pen a blog post or curl up and read a book with my child (win-win!).

Sometimes, there truly is more joy and freedom in the mediocre. (It is interesting to note that in Chesterton's time, the word mediocre had less of a negative connotation--it simply meant middle-of-the-road; average.)

The other way I can relate to Chesterton's statement is that sometimes you just have to try to do something that you might not be successful or "good" at (not at first, and perhaps not ever) and simply enjoy the process of it all.

An example of this in my life is nature journaling.  I look inside John Muir Laws' nature journaling how-to books and just swoon at its pages, and well, my nature journal just looks mediocre in comparison.  And that is A-Ok.

I dove into nature journaling alongside of my children as part of our homeschooling, and it has been, well, transformative, for me.  Nature journaling has helped me to slow down in the out-of-doors and stop and notice the petal of a flower or a little weed in the front yard.  Sometimes I look up a nature treasure and try to find its name.  Other times I draw it.  Sometimes I do both.  It has been therapeutic to watch the birds at my feeder and explore an entire field that is new for me.

Oh, and I must mention that it has been oh.so.humbling to try something that involves skills I do not innately possess nor effortlessly excel at (especially when sharing my work with others online!) but it has been truly enjoyable and oh.so.rewarding!

And now I see that that is what Chesterton was getting at--the freedom and joy of making space in your day for the truly important things--the things that may not be the BIG things to others, or get noticed, or even admired, and the things that you do not excel in--but the things that will nourish your soul.

So how about you, dear friend?  How can you step out, today, and do it badly?  In what areas do you need to take a step of faith and courage and try something new, even if it means never being "successful"? Let us both encourage each other as we do it badly today!

As you can see, some of my nature journal entries are better than others, but I will continue to pursue the art and the skill of drawing and note-taking my observations in the field...