Lovingly sloven: sacrificing perfect for progress.

There is beauty in what appears to us as chaos. That is what I like about this picture. It’s an obstacle to beautiful things on the other side. That’s how I like to think of this one word, sloven. So, let’s get into it.

Advice is often a secondhand gift, no longer in use by the giver, and unwanted by the receiver.  Let’s forget stoicism, Sisu, virtue… I am not a robotic machine doing all the right things. Perhaps I got off to the wrong foot with these first blog posts. They are not meant to be advice. My prior post are just reflections of parts of my life, and truth is, some parts of my life I would describe as… how do I say this: sloven.

Merriam Webster defines this word as: untidy, especially in personal appearance. Lazily, slipshod, in thought.

The word describes me well when it’s six a.m. and I’m lying on the sofa in sweats with a knit blue hat pulled over my eyes squeezing out five more minutes of sleep while my daughter eats breakfast. As much as I like to portray my thoughts as organized and sharp, they are better categorized as detached interdimensional wormholes to contrary ideas.

I used to feel a lot of guilt about this, shame even. Growing up catholic, there is a natural tendency to feel that anything less than perfect behavior is a failure of some sort, especially when no one is watching – because of course, God is watching, and so is Santa or one of his elves. Best not to be naughty.

I was in my twenties when I finally was able to reframe this whole problem. I still don’t always get it right, but now a man of forty, I am doing my best to embrace it. I will always have some messy parts of my life. I have learned to embrace them, see them as necessary even. And it begs the question, what’s the value in fixing them anyway?

In my business career, I was taught that it is better to leverage your strengths than fix the deficiencies. It applies to your team, your product, and yourself. I wasn’t sure I believed that, even though I taught it. After years of practice, I see there is truth here.

I work to reflect on positives, though I don’t always win. When I do win that battle with the mirror, it is most often because I’ve been spending time with my strengths and doing something positive with them rather than working to fix my faults.  

When I look in the mirror and I don’t see what I want, I try to have some humility. I try to think of the word sloven, instead of something nastier. I like it, mostly because I think it’s a funny word. But also, I like to think there is some innocence about our failings. Like the boy who shows up to school with oily, matted hair, but scores perfectly on his math exam. It’s almost not his fault for being disheveled.

The first time I encountered the word sloven, I was in my mid-twenties and reading Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. I was infuriated that I did not know it and quickly pulled out my thesaurus, which I kept with me at the time, and made a note.

I liked the dark humor that Heller uses in Catch-22. His use of the word sloven is no exception. His slovenly described characters can’t help their untidiness, they are dealing with war, life and death, of course.

And so are we. We are grappling with existence. We are battling the wages of daily life. Of course it will get messy sometimes. I would argue, if it is too neat, we aren’t focused on big enough ideas and problems.

I especially like this notion when I am thinking about my creative work. The process of creativity is inherently messy. When I approach my creative work with a desire for perfection, it’s almost impossible to get started. When I give myself the freedom to make a mess, and the space to explore my wormhole thoughts, then it is much easier to produce. And that is most often the goal, to get started, to get over the hang ups of being neat and orderly all the time.  

There will always be parts of me that enjoy making my bed every morning, keeping a tidy house, hitting the gym four days a week, and staying on task. There is virtue here. But when I am feeling stuck, I try to tell myself: Get started. Make a mess. Progress is better than perfection. Be sloven if it keeps you moving toward your aims. You can always come back and clean things up later. If I find myself bartering for minutes between tidy tasks and the untidy pursuit of my goals and passion, then there will always be parts of my life that are lovingly sloven.