When we first moved here, we were surrounded by buildings going up. Gradually, the building subsided and instead of the banging and whirring of progress, we settled into the peaceful serenity of nature. I didn’t realise how accustomed I had become to the quiet until our neighbour had some remedial work done and the drone of machinery was outside my window once more.
Their waterproofing was installed by an independent contractor and didn’t meet specification. Over five years, moisture seeped into the house. It took 5 years to figure out what exactly was wrong. One day, I wandered past the guys who had dug under parts of the building to fix the problem and chatted with them. One comment stuck with me. “We used to paint three layers of black waterproofing paint on blockwork. When we saw the product specified for this place, we assumed it would be an improvement on the old method.”
How often do we do that? We assume that trying something new is going to be better. That is not automatically the case. Sure, sometimes it is, but not always. That black paint might not have been as technical, but it was reliable.
When we discard tried and tested methods for the latest thing, we may end up disappointed.
Some of those old-school relationship basics, like eating a meal together without technology at the table, making eye contact with someone, and expressing our gratitude fall by the wayside when we think we’ve found an easier way. We eat in front of the TV, message someone and assume that our partner, friend, or colleague knows that we appreciate them and what they do. Those ways are more convenient. Better. So we think.
In a work context, teambuilding events often pull teams out of their familiar environment and set them some sort of manual task that isn’t completed with technology, but by supporting each other. Doing something the old-fashioned way is a novelty.
I used to attend a church that had transitioned through multiple temporary venues before finally building a purpose-built space. By the time we attended, they were established in the new building. I remember friends lamenting the days when they had to set up and pack down in a pub with sticky floors each week. “Why?” I asked.
They answered that through the set up and pack down, the mopping and the arranging, their sense of community was strong. When they had to work together to achieve something, they got to know each other and shared more of life. Once they had a building and they just turned up to a space already set up, it was much harder to engage with each other.
It makes sense to think that a purpose-built building would be better than the uncertainty and hardship of temporary arrangements, but there are pros and cons to both scenarios.
When we’re in a phase of discomfort, it is easy to wish for the next thing; to fail to see the pros of where we are. Perhaps that is why finding things to be thankful for is so important.
When we’re in the midst of calamity, it is hard! But there is something profound about those moments that puts life into perspective in a way that nothing else does.
You can find difficulties or inconveniences at any stage of our lifecycle. It might be challenges in the family, peer pressure at school, a difficult transition to adulthood, learning to live with those who grew up in a different environment, difficult neighbours, consequences of a decision, illness, the list goes on.
Perhaps the shiny new way of doing things is not, in fact, better than the old.
I’m looking at doing a lecture only, short course in this next couple of months. The description ends with, “This module will help students appreciate how people in the past operated much as people do today, but in a very different world with a different set of assumptions.”
Wherever you go in the world, you will find hugely differing cultures and ways of doing things, but that at their core, people have similar hopes and dreams, similar desires. We all wrestle with love, disappointment, expectation, pride, being understood, forgiveness, ambition, reputation, peace. If we look for them, somewhere, deep down, we will find similarities; even with those who are very different from us.
That person you keep at a distance (because that seems like a better option), may need something you can provide. What are they wrestling with? Is it really better to maintain a superficial relationship, or is there room for growth there?
That’s not to say that we shouldn’t try something different or new; the contractors next door followed the plan and assumed it would have a better outcome. Now, with experience, they know the challenges and the things to look for with the new product. If they installed it again, they’d go about it differently.
When the architect for our neighbour specified a particular product, did they take the time to evaluate whether it was the best fit for the project, or did they just see an updated technology and assume that it would work better? Perhaps if everything was installed perfectly, it was better. Sadly, it wasn’t installed perfectly, and our neighbours carried the impact of that for five years.
They spent five years figuring out what wasn’t working. It was not a small fix. It took a bit of digging to get to that one thing that needed tweaking. Now, they have a lovely dry home, the nagging question at the back of their minds has been resolved and the hard yards are done.
Have you allowed something new to shape your habits unintentionally, assuming it was better? Perhaps you softened the rule about no phones at the table and now you’re feeling distant from the people in your own household. Perhaps you don’t even eat at the table these days. Is there an old-school habit you discarded that you could reintroduce to benefit your relationships?
I’m not suggesting that we revert to a lifestyle that worked 50 years ago. I’m suggesting that we evaluate the impacts of our current behaviour and see if we have established a habit that didn’t turn out to be the improvement that we expected.
Assumptions don’t always land us where we expect. Take a fresh look and see what works better for you.
