The relentless human pursuit of fixing things around them (and themselves)
You woke up in the morning, saw your face in the mirror, puffy and red. You ran to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed some ice, and submerged your entire head. Why?
There is this tingling feeling of "something is not right/out of place" and "must be fixed," so one does what one must do, that is, search for a fix. Like a drug addict.
You bought a new bag (because the old bag just doesn't work anymore). You bought a new car (same case). A new house (because there is a certain image/need that you need fulfilled).
There is this overwhelmingly constant tinkering and fixing, which, in the context of building and creating, is deeply admirable, but when it comes to one's own personal needs, it becomes too self-involved.
Why is it wrong to care about how I feel? one asks.
It's not. In fact, a lot of great things that happened in life, all the great discoveries and all, were made because we just couldn't/wouldn't stop obsessing and tinkering and fixing things (and ourselves, consciously or not).
But how do you draw the line between self-serving, self-soothing euphoria and actual progress?
There is this principle called Kaizen, which roughly means "change for the better," and it describes a practice of making small, steady, and incremental changes over time to boost quality, efficiency, and performance. Sedikit, sedikit, lama-lama menjadi bukit type shit.
Do we have an image of the bukit before we perform the small progressive acts? Or do we just do it every day without regard for how big the bukit is, or even whether it will amount to a bukit, or just a meadow?
I guess self-fixing and tinkering are great virtues in their own right, but must be put into context. There is such a thing as overmedication, overgeneralisation, and over—anything.
Like writing and self-editing, when do you stop?
When do you think the fix is good enough?
You ask Editor A, it's good enough. You ask Editor B, it needs more work here. There. Everywhere.
As the writer and artist of your own creative piece, yes, you do decide when, but what if you don't know?
I think it was Ben Affleck who said that art is knowing when to stop. Too much and it becomes a how-to. The mystery is art. The aftertaste is art. The "saying less" is art. Explaining without overexplaining is art. Writing without repeating is art.
And I guess it gets better with practice, like anything. Kaizen practice. Every day grind. Small good acts.
Just, don't forget to stop.