I built a three tiered raised bed today. I had a general idea of what I wanted to do. Got about what I thought I needed in terms of wood and screws. And I started to build.
I made a lot of mistakes. I mis-measured or forgot to measure. I got too little wood. I didn’t charge the battery on my drill.
But in the end I think I built something pretty beautiful that will serve its purpose in our little urban garden.
Maybe next time I’ll spend more time on the design. More time with exact measurements. More time planning my supplies so I’m not making multiple trips to the store because I got it wrong the first time. Planning is good. Especially if you want to repeat something and if you want to do it better then you did the first time.
But there is also something beautiful about building in real time. There are problems you didn’t anticipate that require some ingenuity to solve. If you don’t have exactly what you need but want to get it done you have to get creative about what you do have and how to make it fit. And there are discoveries that happen when you’re not just following a plan to a T.
While there is method in design and execution, there is also art in improvisation. There is value in both. If I’m trying to build ten raised beds for paying customers I’m going to want to have a clear and concise plan for building. So I can stay on budget and on time and build something that makes them happy. But if it’s just for me there’s room to let it unfold in real time. To make changes and discoveries and laugh at the mistakes. To immerse myself in the meditative state that comes with focusing on a single task from start to finish. I so rarely get to do that. It is immensely gratifying. Especially when the end result is pretty darn close to what I wanted in the first place.
I guess my point is that there is value in designing and planning and execution. Being rigorous in your vision. But there’s also beauty in letting yourself build stream of consciously. To discover along the way. To let go of rigor and embrace freedom from constraint. And maybe if you build enough (or write, or paint, or cook, or whatever art you love) you’ll find a way to combine the two and get the best of both. And the best of yourself.
