Permission to putter

“There’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want.” — Bill Watterson

yellow curtainLast Friday, I had oral surgery to remove part of an infected bone in my lower jaw, under my tongue. The ordeal wasn’t quite as grisly as I’d anticipated — but I felt out of sorts for a few days while the anesthesia wore off and the surgical wound began to heal.

I’d been advised in the home-care instructions to “avoid over-exertion” through the following week, which, to me, was a pink permission slip to indulge in guilt-free puttering.

Cheaper than air fare or psychotherapy, puttering lets your mind wander while your body hangs out around the house. And unlike housecleaning, which involves physical energy and high-powered appliances, puttering puts you in a Zen-like state of bliss.

Not to be confused with slacking, procrastinating, fidgeting, or fiddling, puttering is good for mental health. But sadly, ours is a goal-directed, work-till-you-drop culture in which “putter” isn’t recognized as an empowering verb. Most of us prefer to boast about how terribly busy we are, so puttering is rarely easy to pull off.

For those who practice on the sly — or following a doctor’s orders — puttering styles are varied and highly personal. Puttering can be the act of sorting through a box of college textbooks in the basement; tinkering under the hood of an old Chevy; or rearranging things on a shelf while you listen to jazz on public radio. In other words, puttering is a way of clarifying lifes myriad details, especially when its done with reverence for the objects at hand. Its an opportunity to reconsider what we most enjoy in our homes, and to make a mental list of what wed like to edit later.

If puttering still sounds like a chore youve postponed, its only because you havent found a method that cheers or relaxes you. One man’s notion of drudgery, after all, can be another’s idea of soul craft.

“I can’t explain it, but I enjoy doing dishes,” writes Thomas Moore, a former Catholic monk and author of the best-selling Care of the Soul. “I’ve had an automatic dishwasher in my home for over a year, and I have never used it. What appeals to me, I think, is the reverie induced by going through the ritual of washing, rinsing, and drying.”  Thomas Moore can come over to my house and wash dishes any time he visits Detroit (especially if his visit coincides with another power failure). Meanwhile, I’ll keep loading my dishwasher.

Still, theres merit in savoring the ordinary tasks of daily living.

A lot of us spend our lives reaching for lofty goals, or at least trying to look productive 24/7. This wouldnt be such a bad thing if so many of us werent scratching our heads and feeling as if somethings missing — even after weve won all the trophies.

“My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet Im happy. I cant figure it out. What am I doing right?” observed Charles M. Schulz, creator of Peanuts.

Charlie Brown, after all, was pretty good at puttering.

–Top illustration: a painting by my husband, Douglas La Ferle.

Summer unplugged?

By isolating himself at Walden Pond, Thoreau hadn’t run away from life. He’d run toward it. Why couldn’t we leave our lives of quiet, digital desperation and do the same?” — Susan Maushart, from The Winter of Our Disconnect

Once in a while, we all need to unplug. Friends who’ve been visiting this site for a while know I spend less time hanging out here in the “Home Office” once summer arrives. Escaping outdoors — sans laptop — restores my spirit and makes me feel whole again. I’m ready to start this week.

As it happens, I’m reading Susan Maushart’s The Winter of Our Disconnect: How Three Totally Wired Teenagers (and A Mother Who Slept with Her iPhone) Pulled the Plug on Their Technology and Lived to Tell the Tale. It’s a compelling (and often hilarious) memoir detailing how Mausart, a journalist, and her kids made the difficult decision to live without technology for (gulp) six months. Using current research to back her premise, the author shows how limiting our use of technology, including social media, can enrich the quality of our lives and deepen what she calls “real-life” relationships. As soon as I’m finished, I plan to review the book in a column.

But I’m not totally unplugging this summer. Unlike Maushart, I don’t have the willpower to go for more than a week without checking Facebook, blogs, and e-mail. Through August, I’ll continue to post links to my newly published material; or I’ll rerun favorite (previously published) essays in keeping with the season.

Meanwhile, I’m still micro-managing my mother’s life, keeping a watchful eye on her dementia and health-care issues. Trying to find my balance in the midst of it all has been the toughest challenge I’ve faced in a long time. Whenever possible, I follow Thoreau’s sage advice to “Simplify, simplify.” Right now, things with Mom are relatively calm — and I am working to keep them that way.

When you get a chance, please fill me in on what you’re up to this summer … Will you be blogging more or less? Spending more time at the beach or in your garden? Planning a graduation party? Spending less time at the office? Please send me a cyber postcard before you unplug.  –CL

— Top photo: My Japanese garden, a favorite backyard escape. Bottom photo: A clematis arching over the gate in our backyard. All photos by Cindy La Ferle. —