The Idol of Productivity
Human beings are pretty inefficient. First of all, we are genetically designed to shut down for 1/3rd of our lives. That’s a lot of time we could be getting stuff done. A donkey, for instance, only requires about 3 hours of sleep per day. Donkeys can get a lot done.
Consider the time it takes us to eat. Humans are among the most inefficient animals when it comes to eating. No bending down and biting off a mouthful of grass. Think of the time required to grow, harvest, prepare, eat and clean up, to say nothing of the watching of cooking shows.
Let’s estimate, for the sake of argument, that without servants to do the grocery shopping and cooking, we use an average of 2 out of our 16 waking hours to fuel our bodies – that’s buying the food, preparing the food, eating the food and cleaning up after ourselves. Three times a day, seven days a week.
Social interactions cut into our productivity as well. Think of how much time and energy is expended on living in family structures. Social relationships may actually constitute the larger part of our waking hours. The amount of time spent on parents, partners, housemates, friends, offspring and neighbors is remarkable. I’m not even counting the time spent waiting in line at the DMV which is a whole different sort of productivity loss required to live in our modern world.
Of course, those of us who abide by religious traditions have commands around praying, feast days, fast days and days of rest. The word Sabbath appears 157 times in the Bible and the phrase “do no work” shows up around many of the feast days, making it very clear that productivity is not part of the deal when it comes to much of our religious observances.
I’ll go out on a limb and say that a healthy individual with any religious sensibilities is really only available for “production” about 50% of our working life. That’s not even counting the wasted years of potential production lost in the time it takes to grow up, in seasons of sickness and in those years where old age makes it difficult to produce. If you had a car or computer or microwave that was as unproductive as you are, you’d get rid of it.
The truth is that we are not designed for productivity.
Dormancy is built into every living thing. At the end of February, the state of Wisconsin resembles a dystopian landscape. The ground is stone, the trees are barren, the fields lie fallow; it looks as though the world has come to an end. Yet Wisconsin is an agricultural breadbasket.
I find myself checking or responding to email throughout the day – it’s the first thing I do before getting out of bed and the last thing before going to sleep. Weekends included. “It’ll just take a minute,” I tell myself. I think about work fairly consistently – how to serve this supervisee, how to solve this problem, how to develop a new program. There’s an adrenaline rush to much of my work, but there is also a nagging feeling that I am operating outside my Manufacture’s Recommended Specifications. I am not designed to be productive – at least not in the sense of productivity measured as output on behalf of the organization that employees me.
But how to smash the idol of production?
Our personal sense of worth is governed by it, the value of our nations is measured by it, and our organizational annual reports boast about it. Everywhere we look productivity is preferred form of valuation.
A few things are helping me smash the idol of production. Sometimes I force myself to lie down while wide awake – no computer, no phone, no nap, no book. I will meditate on the reality of my worth while accomplishing absolutely nothing. I can now do up to an hour in this state (P.S. It may help that I’m an enneagram 9 for those of you who know what I’m talking about). My team has a practice of one day per month retreats and a policy of no emailing one another on Sunday. Finally, I take a bus or ride a bike to and from work. While there are a number of benefits to this, it is mostly a huge waste of time. In this frenetic world of getting there quicker, adding time to my commute reminds me that there is value in slowness over speed and in the journey over the destination.
Take a moment to disassociate your sense of self-worth with the stuff you produce. Embrace the beauty of dormancy, stillness, and being.