Every weekday for the past six months, I’ve eaten a bowl of soup for lunch.
I like soup, but despite what the considerable streak might suggest, I’m not obsessed.
In reality, it’s a case of simple utility.
High-quality, premade soup is available at every store near me in a variety of flavours. It’s quick and easy to heat up, healthy, hearty, and delicious.
Over the months, the consistency of fare has introduced a sort of unintended ritual to the middle of my day.
At noon my alarm goes off, signaling the end of my morning deep work time block.
At this point , I head to the kitchen, pull the soup container out of the fridge, pour it into a bowl, and put the bowl into the microwave.
A minute and forty-five seconds. Take out and stir. Back in for another minute and thirty seconds.
During the first minute forty-five, I take the stairs up two floors of my coworking space to the bathroom.
During the second minute thirty, I wash out the soup container for recycling. It takes me forty-five seconds to wash the container, leaving me forty-five seconds to start my lunchtime sudoku.
As you can tell, I have the process down to a science.
Or at least I thought I did, until this past Wednesday.
A Surprising Discovery
I might not have made the discovery of I hadn’t been wearing my favourite shirt.
It’s a light grey, long-sleeved button-up, the perfect canvas for stray drops of the neon orange lentil curry I was heating up that day.
As such, I was on guard, fully aware of my every move as I placed the brimming bowl back in the microwave after it’s stir, set the timer for a minute thirty, and took the container to the sink to rinse out.
Had I been wearing any other shirt, I would have turned the hot water faucet on full, allowing the pressurized spray to blast the remaining soup from the inside of the container, splashing the sides of the sink in the process.
Once the container was clean, I would fill it up and use it to splash water across the sides and bottom of the sink until they were once again clean and white.
This had been a standard part of my lunch-time ritual to that point.
It seemed obvious to me that the full power of the faucet was the fastest and most effective way to clean out the container.
As my hand hovered over the handle, however, I hesitated.
I envisioned a neon wave splattering out out of the sink and across my shirt, ruining it in an instant.
Instead, I turned the tap slowly, drawing a thin, focused stream of water.
I carefully directed the stream around the sides of the container before—equally-carefully—pouring the contents directly into the drain, making sure to avoid even the slightest splash as I did so.
I tossed the container in the recycling, pleased with the potential disaster my careful planning had averted and looked over to the microwave timer.
Sixty seconds.
Huh.
Not only had I managed to keep my shirt clean, but I’d also taken less time to clean the container, hadn’t needed to clean the sink, and used less water to boot.
Was it a mistake? An outlier?
Being of scientific inclination, I tested the process again on Thursday, and then on Friday.
The results were the same.
Thirty seconds to wash the container under low pressure versus the forty-five under high.
How could this be? Surely less power, less energy, less input shouldn’t result in the same outcome in less time.
Should it?
Focus > Pressure
So often, our instinct is to devote all the energy we have available toward the problem we’re trying to solve or the work we’re trying to create.
Sometimes, this is called for, and may in fact be the best way to achieve our desired result.
But not always.
Especially if the energy we’re directing at the problem is unfocused, inconsistent, or erratic.
In fact, as with the soup container, sometimes more energy just creates more of a mess to clean up once we finish the task at hand.
In most cases, we’re better off beginning with less—but more focused—energy, and then ramping up as need be.
In my experience, brute force and maximum pressure are rarely the most efficient problem solving methods.
Just the right amount of energy, directed at just the right place, on the other hand, often is.
Which means the next time you find yourself wishing for more time, money, or force to direct toward a problem, it might be worth pausing.
Because there’s a good chance you already have all the resources you need. They’re just not being focused effectively.
Explore how to navigate a creative life that matters
This article originally appeared in my weekly Creative Wayfinding Newsletter. Each issue is the product of a week of work, and contains something not available for sale.
A fresh perspective, a shot of encouragement when you need it most, and maybe even some genuine wisdom from time to time.
Each week, we explore a different facet of the question “How do we navigate the wilds of creating work that matters?”
It’s something I’m proud to create and I’d be honoured to share it with you.
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