Why I Hate Yard-Work and How It's Making Me a Better Person
A personal journey through hell via freshly trimmed sod
There’s no beating around the bush (oh I went there). I hate yard work. I’ve hated it since the moment it became a responsibility of mine. I’ve spent the past few years attempting to convince my partner that living in a small apartment is better for bringing our family together, just to avoid having to do yard-work ever again.
Which is why it infuriates me that doing yard-work is making me a better human being. Here's why.
Sisyphus
I have two problems that coalesce into a wonderful paralysis when it comes to taking on big tasks. The first is that I’m quite terrible at starting a task, stopping that task, and then picking it up again. If I am unable to finish a given task in a single sitting, whether that’s five minutes or five hours, then it becomes excruciatingly painful for me to restart said task. The second issue is that any task where finishing it is never really attainable, i.e. yard work, the idea of beginning a Sisyphean pursuit is enough to leave me curled up in the corner.
Tending to a yard is never done. Regardless of how many times you pick up the sticks, rake the leaves, pull the weeds, or cut the grass, you will never finish. The best you can do is delay the inevitable; let the grass grow a little longer in hopes a snowfall will end your punishment. But until that white powder frees you from the tyranny of pollen you must continue to push that boulder up the hill. Yard-work is a child you never intended to have and have now realized that your free time is no longer free, your weekends are non-existent, and all in the hopes you won’t get a call from a nosey neighbour or HOA enthusiast.
The Lesson
Now for the infuriating part. The other day I took the kids out to pick up sticks from the backyard. Doing yard-work with kids definitely makes things a little more enjoyable, but it’s still yard-work and I’d rather be dealing with both of them during a meltdown in a very public place. However, as we were clearing an area that we’d cleared out just last week, something hit me that I had not expected. Though the task was never-ending, everything task adjacent was enjoyable.
Being outside in the fresh air. Fantastic.
Spending time with my kids. Wonderful.
Getting a little exercise. Needed.
However, the most valuable realization has proven very powerful in conquering my action paralysis cocktail. Even though it seems like you are doing the same task every time, each moment spent within the task is new one and therefore presents an opportunity to exist in a new moment. Sure, it feels like I’m just out picking up sticks and leaves for the hundredth time, but I’m actually picking up new sticks and new leaves that, like me, have gone through a whole different life cycle than the ones before.
Instead of fighting the inherent nature of yard-work, which insists on being in a perpetual state of incomplete, I accepted the task for what it was, a new moment in an everlasting journey. This seemingly simple thought switched my attitude towards yard-work being a task to complete into an experience. An experience that can be enjoyed. By releasing the pressure of getting to the finish line, yard-work has exited the realm of to-do list item and entered the realm of pleasure.
The truly despicable part of all this relates to how it can change your viewpoint on almost anything you do throughout your day. So many of our daily chores are new opportunities to experience a new moment if we allow ourselves the opportunity to keep ourselves from looking at them as a burden and embrace them.
Stop and Smell the Roses
When we label something as a task, it becomes something to be completed. A box to be checked. But so few things in our lives are ever actually done. So few that I’m hard pressed to actually name anything we ever complete. We can tell ourselves we’ve done enough on any given thing in order to move on to something else, but while attempting to accomplish anything we are constantly flowing through various stages. None of which have a finale.
Up until I was standing in the garden, watching my kids chase each other around as they grabbed sticks and pinecones to be hauled off by the shadowy figures we call garbage collectors, I hadn’t realized how much more enjoyable, how much calmer, and how much more aware you can be when you stop rushing to get things done off your checklist. I often let to-do list items build up to the point that abandoning the list felt like the only logical step, because there was no way I could finish these tasks in a reasonable amount of time and the corner was still warm from the last time I ended up there.
But this new perspective has proven itself incredibly valuable immediately. In fact, this blog was started a few days ago and I’m actually finishing it, which is a big feat for me when past me likely would have just started a new post next week and pretended this never existed.
If all of this is obvious to you then congratulations. I applaud your understanding of the universe. But if any of you are reading this before heading out to handle your lawn or any other ad infinitum task, take a moment and look beyond the to-do list box waiting to be checked off and see the opportunity to enjoy a moment sitting in front of you.