On my third hike with my friend John, we had an incredible but taxing trek that involved six hours of stream crossings and mud puddles in 90-degree heat. We were a muddy, sweaty mess by the end, and we were EXHAUSTED and HUNGRY. Despite my exhaustion and hunger, I slowly and methodically cleaned the mud off myself before getting into my clean car, drove home carefully to keep it clean on the dirt road, removed my muddy clothes once inside my spotless home, took a long shower to remove every last grain of dirt, and then took the time to prepare a perfectly balanced meal. By the time I finally put food in my mouth, I had spent so much time preparing for that perfect meal in my perfectly clean clothes in my perfectly clean home that my body had burned through all the snacks I had eaten along the way. I was nearly in shock because I needed to eat so badly.
John, on the other hand, decided that his body was too tired and too hungry to worry about staying neat and tidy. He jumped into his car, caked in mud, ate a random compilation of the snacks he could find in his car, and drove straight home to lie his sweaty, muddy body between his freshly cleaned, white sheets.
When he told me this, I thought to myself, “I could never do that!” I love the feeling of fresh, clean sheets. One of the perks I was most looking forward to when I left my marriage was the luxury of sleeping in crisp, clean, sweaty-man-smell-free sheets. (In my ex-husband’s defense, he is a very clean and hygienic man—but he is a man, and I’ve yet to meet one who doesn’t leave a hint of sweaty man smell in the sheets.) My need for order and tidiness has even led me to consider dating women because I find they tend to hold these values—and the bar for cleanliness—in higher esteem than men.
Yet, after sleeping solo for most of the two and a half years since my divorce, I’ve realized that I kind of miss the sweaty man smell in my sheets (sorry, ladies!), and that perhaps there is something innate in me that needs it to feel safe and calm. As I’ve deepened my friendship with John, I’ve also learned how to embrace the power of being a little bit messy. John is the most ambitious and fastest-moving entrepreneur I’ve ever met. I’ve watched John push perfection aside to move toward his goals faster than the thousands of entrepreneurs I met as a VC. If John is on his way to an important meeting and forgets something after he’s laced up his muddy work boots to leave the house, he’ll choose to track in mud rather than be late to the meeting. I’ve historically done the opposite, literally and figuratively, and it has not served me.
Watching John push perfection aside to achieve seemingly impossible things with speed and efficiency has been a powerful lesson. I also continue to find value in my neat-and-tidy tendencies, and I occasionally remind my fast-moving, bull-in-the-China-shop friend that taking five minutes to plan the logistics of his day can save mountains of headaches and hours of time. As with many of the unexpected lessons I’ve learned from my Paradise Valley experience, there is power in polarity and in allowing myself to be a little bit messy.
How might allowing yourself to be a little bit messy serve you?
