Adventures of Handsome Andy: Seeing The Trees Through the Forest and Pruning Roses

Seeing Between The Forest & Trees

Have you ever used the phrase 'can't see the forest for the trees'? Most of us have heard it and probably used the quip at some point in conversation. I know I have. It means that people lose themselves in the details (trees) neglecting or forgetting the larger picture or vision (forest). This phrase is commonly used in business, but can be found in almost any industry. The environmental sustainability industry (which I fall into) loves to use this line given its symbolism. We often get so stuck in the details that those details become the overwhelming focus with the original vision (forest) becoming distorted.

As a designer I've been taught to see or slide between both at various stages of understanding a challenge or design problem. We take a 10,000 foot view to visualize and comprehend the big picture and then zoom in at a micro level to see the patterns and interconnections. We then pull out to assess the information gathered and then dive back in again to synthesize and problem solve. This oscillation occurs repeatedly with each cycle revealing something new and informative about the subject being analyzed. It's called the design process and it works - if you give it enough time to mature and evolve. Which brings me back to the trees (the details).

I've never been a stickler for detail (there are exceptions). I find things like setting the table or arranging the silverware, i.e the dinner fork, the salad fork, soup spoon, dessert spoon, dinner knife, water glass, wine glass and their respective positions, uniquely boring. I can do it and when I do, the ensemble is always very nice to look at, but I don't find it deeply satisfying. And yet, having a table neatly arranged, adds to the totality of the food experience. When I stop for half a second and think through why the art of table setting is important, I start to see the trees. The folding of the napkin comes into view, the patterns of color, texture, composition, are like a painting. Ultimately, they provide the infrastructure for what my attention is generally focused on - food and food stories. When I pull myself out of this functionally fixed box, the trees AND the forest suddenly become clear. Why? Because changing the context in which I find something boring gives me the opportunity to discover something new, leading to a better understanding of the subject and a greater sense of gratitude for the environment in which I'm working. The bigger forest question is, how did this happen? How did the feeling of being bored creep into daily life?

Midcentury existentialist, Jean-Paul Sartre, understood boredom as a fundamental philosophical crisis, what fellow philosopher, Schopenhauer once termed “the feeling of the emptiness of life”. Saying it feels heavy! After a little research, I found that the sensation of boredom (albeit complex) can be boiled down to our inability to concentrate our attention. To fix this problem, we write schedules to organize the attention so details aren't missed. We make lists, as I wrote about in previous blogs, that we love scratching through as the day progresses. You know, to concentrate our attention.... It feels good, creates meaningful engagement resulting in progress. I am one of these people. I make lists not because I love making lists, but because it helps me maintain a certain cadence in my day.

However, what I've noticed is that these long lists have created a situation where I'm either scanning the surface for bite sized pieces of digestible information or I'm busy diving in and out of the micro world at a speed that's slow enough to extract data, but fast enough to return to 10,000 feet so that I don't lose site of the forest. Everything in between....is a cosmic blur and the details (the trees) I think I'm experiencing are but glimpses of worlds I've yet to explore. If one isn't vigilant about their levels of attention, collecting bite sized pieces of information as we email, take phone calls, tweet, instagram, update, chat, mult-task, re-check emails etc...can gum up the process, making it sticky and sloppy. We're bored, because we're over-stimulated.

Analyzing and piecing together the data points collected is important and often vital, but it can also come at a cost. By never fully understanding or appreciating how something has developed (its history, the context), we fill in the blank spaces with assumptions, often poor ones, that completely change the nature of what's being observed. Decision making becomes more difficult and flawed, because corners have been cut in the design thinking process to save time and probably money. We're never fully satisfied. There's always three mores boxes to tick. It's like going to a fancy restaurant, absorbing the delicious food porn (in very small, delicate portions) and then accepting, that part of the experience or reality, is going home hungry. My point is this: Being "bored" at work or wherever we might call 'the office' is symptomatic of a society where it's more important to get things done then it is to really understand why or what we're doing. Even in Sicily, where the pace of life is slower, this overwhelming need to 'get as much done as possible' persists. That is until last week, I decided I was not going to participate in that kind of thinking anymore.

One morning, after I had finished my egregious cup of Italian coffee and my list of things to do (Weed flower beds, spread out mulch, empty compost, water plants, talk to seedlings, plant new seedlings, prune 100 yard prickly rose hedge, design plant walk) I let out a huge sigh. Two feelings hit me. Boredom (more weeding and pruning) and this nagging feeling that not only was I being ungrateful, but I was missing something vitally important by ensuring all these boxes would be ticked off by the end of the day. That vitally important element was quality, specifically, an appreciation and clarity of the details. Parts of the whole that formed the whole. Parts that I was missing. Not just the plant, but the components of the plant that allow the plant to be a plant! I could see the forest (I knew what I had to accomplish that day in the garden) It's that the details weren't as exciting. They didn't give back enough intellectual support to keep my attention. Meaning, I wasn't being instantly gratified in the same way I am used to by working in the digital space at break neck speeds. The payback (gorgeous roses) are a long-term investment. Which meant I would have to wait to see the fruits of my labor. Surrounded by the sublime, my gears had become taffy. So I took my list and scratched off everything, leaving the rose hedge free and clear. On that day, nothing else was going to matter. I wasn't going to allow all the other noisy tasks to take me away from this one thing.

Rose Hedge on right

It took three full days to finish pruning the hedge. I was determined to focus and do the best job I possible could.

The first day was difficult. Really difficult. The thorns were sharp and out for blood, my forearm and hands were riddled with holes. The urge to move on to something else and come back to the hedge later on in the day was steady. It pains me to say this, but I was bored.

On the second day, that changed. And it changed largely because I changed my attitude and refocused my attention on the details which had slowly began to appear. For example, pruning the dead branches out of a rose hedge is important because it prevents a variety of fungal diseases from developing or entering the plant. Plus it frees up space inside the plant which is important for air circulation. And pruning a healthy branch at a 45 degree angle just above a node, but away from the inside of the plant, allows for new growth to occur, plus the position of the angle prevents water from entering the branch, that again, might cause fungal growth. I began to remember all of these details and suddenly, this boring, tedious job became more meaningful. Questions popped up that I didn't have answers to, such as why aphids love roses so much? How many species are their? Where do they come from? And what I discovered was that this devilish little insect that draws life from the bud of a rose is interconnected to about a dozen other interesting insects like hover flies, ladybirds and lacewings. Aphids are a vital piece in the complex natural jigsaw that is your garden, and to know them is to tolerate them, if not to love them.

To my amazement, after the third day, my ability to concentrate without being interrupted by outside influences increased ten fold. My attention was back and I could see parts of the system that I had forgotten existed. Sometimes focusing our attention on just one thing for a sustained period of time is exactly what we need in order to respect and fully appreciate the trees living as one organism in a forest of possibilities. And while it's important to be able to see and appreciate both the trees and the forest, we cannot forget that the greatest lessons are often between the two.

For the last week I've carved out one hour to concentrate on one thing. Painting. This is what I've produced. I'm not sure if any of it is good, but it feels good to get lost in the details again.