Complexity and Conundrums
In a complex world, can we still live the simple life?
People tend to complicate their own lives, as if living weren't already complicated enough.
—Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Thank you to Tami for bringing this quote – it’s certainly true for me.
I’ve just returned from a meet up with some author friends, and during one of our conversations I mentioned that I sometimes get sidetracked by trying new software and systems and ways of working and so on.
“But isn’t that something within you?” one of my friends asked, rather perceptively I thought, and I had to admit that he was right.
I have always had a butterfly mind and an eagerness to learn new things. I was that child who did experiments and took things apart. I borrowed books about science from the library, and I dreamed of making discoveries that would shake the world.
This was fun and exciting, but it wasn’t always strictly practical.
A radio, once taken apart, might not work at all when put back together. The bottle containing vinegar and baking powder might pop its cork and spatter foam over your sunbathing sister. And the biogas generator made from a dustbin full of manure might only produce enough burps of gas to pop into flame and go out.
There were some successes though. My gravel-and-sand water filter did work, and my homemade FM radio transmitter could broadcast a voice - just not for very far.
Still, I maintain there were no wasted efforts. There were lessons to be learned and experiences to be gained. Above all, these projects fed my inquiring mind and built up a reserve of resilience.
So the other day, when I realised that the whooshing noise I could hear in the corner of the dining room might be a water pipe leaking under the floorboards, I didn't reach for my phone but for my claw hammer and crowbar (and for the stopcock of course).
Up came the laminate flooring I’d laid so carefully, and up came the old boards, some of them soaking wet, and I set to with a pipe cutter and a length of plastic pipe.
The water supply in our little village comes from a small reservoir fed from a spring, and the water is ever so slightly acidic. As my ten-year-old self knew very well, copper reacts with acid, so these leaks are inevitable. I have dealt with several, and I keep a selection of plastic plumbing fittings in store.
In case you’re wondering, this reservoir was part of the inspiration for the first Devonshire Mystery novel, Valley of Lies. Thankfully, there’s no spoil heap near the village, and there are sets of filters to make sure the water is safe.
So yes, life can get complicated, but in tackling that complexity, we grow, whether we are rewarded by success or spurred on by failure. To seek out complexity may seem perverse, but it all adds grist to the mill. Grind through enough problems and you get better at solving them. Solve enough conundrums and you get better at reducing them to simple principles.
It seems to me that there are two types of simplicity.
One comes from sitting back and letting the world go by, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We can all benefit from time spent relaxing, allowing us to rest and recuperate.
The other is more hard won, and it comes after countless attempts and failures.
Like many writers, my first attempt at writing a novel (Trespass) took me years, and then I realised I’d made a mess of it and would have to go back to page one and redo the whole thing.
Today I could knock that project over within a couple of months and probably make a better job of it.
Writing hasn’t become easy, but it has definitely become simpler. My skills and intuition have developed over time, and my first drafts aren’t perfect but are often passable.
So here’s to the simple life, and to all the complexity that makes it possible.
Take care,
Mikey