I don’t necessarily love mowing. There’s something about Indiana heat and humidity combined with grass allergens hanging in the air. Just thinking about it makes me want to rub my eyes, sneeze, and have a cold glass of water.
Despite the temporary and very minor suffering, mowing is perfectly monotonous. It is something I can do without putting much thought into it. For the last twenty years, I have walked the same path at least once a week during the spring, summer, and fall. The wheel tracks in my lawn prove it. When I mow, I think about things.
One excruciatingly hot day in the summer of 2019, I was mowing the front yard and was only four or five passes into the chore. But already, I was lost in thought. I don’t necessarily remember what I was thinking about, but an image of a circle flashed in my mind and broke into two parts. The circle made me think of an island. The fracturing made me think of people on the island who are experiencing hostility and division. As I continued to make pass after pass, a story began to develop. I stopped the mower and immediately began to take notes on my phone. Within months, I started writing my first novel.
My most profound thoughts and insights come to me during the most mundane moments, like mowing, showering, or using the restroom. Is that too much information? But seriously. I have found that the moments of greatest inspiration come when I create space to consider, contemplate, make connections, and wonder.
I have written in the past about the value of temporarily abandoning technology to rediscover beauty in the very ordinary moments of life. But I think there is even more we might find. When preoccupation, stimulation, and busyness steal our boring, mundane moments, we lose those opportunities for experiencing insight and inspiration. When I have my phone (or our kids constantly have their portable gaming consoles), it is too easy to get lost in repetitive, mindless, and fruitless activities.
Realizing this, I have started intentionally leaving my phone behind, whether it is at home or in my car. When I think back to a time before having devices with us every moment, the more I long to revisit that time and place in the present. Perhaps the key to our most profound insights and inspirations is not in constant connection but in the quiet, unremarkable moments we have been missing.
Question
How might reducing my reliance on technology improve my ability to connect with my thoughts and surroundings?
Peace,
Brandon