It occurred to me that there is a qualitative difference between cleaning the tiles and cleaning the floor. Cleaning the tiles is much easier, even though it looks the same from the outside, and the outcome is the same.

On taking on small tasks vs. 1 big task

<img src="https://www.raptitude.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/mick-haupt-Bcjqa9-OfCM-unsplash550.jpg" width="550" height="367" alt="Post image for Clean the Tiles, Not the Floor">One advantage to having stark checkerboard floor tiles in your bathroom is that it makes the floor much easier to clean.I pondered this midway though a home-based silent retreat, as I attempted to clean my bathroom like a monk would – intentionally, without the aid of podcasts, or even daydreams.I was lying on my side, getting to the trickier tiles beneath the clawfoot tub and its small maze of exposed pipes. Gently contorting myself to get my arm in there, I was surprised at how the task wasn’t even a fraction as unpleasant as I had imagined. &nbsp;All I ever had to do was choose a tile and wipe it down, which is always easy. Then do the same with an adjacent tile.As long as zeroed in on the current tile, rather than think about the dozens of tiles I had yet to clean, there was minimal discomfort and no tedium. Whenever my mind started to drift that way, I remembered my elegant strategy: look at a tile, and clean that tile. As far as I could tell, nothing more was required.I continued this pattern to the end. The expected tedium and displeasure — which seem intrinsic to the task of cleaning this particular bathroom — never arrived.It occurred to me that there is a qualitative difference between cleaning the tiles and cleaning the floor. Cleaning the tiles is much easier, even though it looks the same from the outside, and the outcome is the same.And that means I don’t ever have to clean the floor. I can just clean the tiles instead.“Clean the tiles, not the floor” is not equivalent to “attack the corners” or “break the job into bits.” It isn’t just the same experience divided into more digestible pieces. Rather, something is circumvented completely. The floor gets just as clean, but the difficulty never rises beyond that of the trivially easy task of clean this tile. As I move through the tiles in this way, I never encounter one containing the tedium and struggle I feel when I even think about cleaning under the tub.And that’s a major clue. The real pain of many tasks is psychological, arising from the way the mind processes them, not so much from the actions that constitute the tasks themselves. It really matters whether the goal is to clean the tiles or clean the floor.The general rule seems to be this: the more abstract we make an event – that is, the more we see it in terms of its meaning to the mind, rather than how it feels to the senses – the greater the psychological pain that is created. The more we can zoom into the direct experience, and refrain from engaging with <a href="https://www.raptitude.com/2020/04/how-to-take-a-break-from-your-mind/" dir="ltr">the story around it</a>, the less of a pain in the ass it is.I stumbled across this principle years ago, while working in a New Zealand orchard. The job was physically grueling: pluck kiwifruit endlessly from overhead vines, while dust and itchy kiwi fuzz fall into your face and down your t-shirt. However, once I learned to simply watch my hands pick this pair of fruit, drawing my attention back whenever it drifted to the context – how many hours were left, how mean the boss was, the cold Coca-Cola in my lunchbox — it got ten times easier.I made a rule not to dread work on the way to work, or join my co-workers in complaining about a shift after it ended. No need to expand the task’s unpleasantness beyond what it actually required.This was easier than it might sound, as long as I remembered the rule. There was always something more interesting to do or think about when I wasn’t actually pulling the fruit down.That tactic got me through those hard months in the orchard, but I didn’t really know how to apply the principle elsewhere. Now I’ve got a handy refrain for cutting away the psychological cruft that forms around unpleasant tasks: clean the tiles, not the floor.***Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@rocinante_11" dir="ltr">Mick Haupt</a><h3>
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One advantage to having stark checkerboard floor tiles in your bathroom is that it makes the floor much easier to clean. I pondered this midway though a home-based silent retreat, as I attempted to clean my bathroom like a monk […]

strategy

Strategy

One advantage to having stark checkerboard floor tiles in your bathroom is that it makes the floor much easier to clean.

I pondered this midway though a home-based silent retreat, as I attempted to clean my bathroom like a monk would – intentionally, without the aid of podcasts, or even daydreams.

I was lying on my side, getting to the trickier tiles beneath the clawfoot tub and its small maze of exposed pipes. Gently contorting myself to get my arm in there, I was surprised at how the task wasn’t even a fraction as unpleasant as I had imagined.

All I ever had to do was choose a tile and wipe it down, which is always easy. Then do the same with an adjacent tile.

As long as zeroed in on the current tile, rather than think about the dozens of tiles I had yet to clean, there was minimal discomfort and no tedium. Whenever my mind started to drift that way, I remembered my elegant strategy: look at a tile, and clean that tile. As far as I could tell, nothing more was required.

I continued this pattern to the end. The expected tedium and displeasure — which seem intrinsic to the task of cleaning this particular bathroom — never arrived.

It occurred to me that there is a qualitative difference between cleaning the tiles and cleaning the floor. Cleaning the tiles is much easier, even though it looks the same from the outside, and the outcome is the same.

And that means I don’t ever have to clean the floor. I can just clean the tiles instead.

“Clean the tiles, not the floor” is not equivalent to “attack the corners” or “break the job into bits.” It isn’t just the same experience divided into more digestible pieces. Rather, something is circumvented completely. The floor gets just as clean, but the difficulty never rises beyond that of the trivially easy task of clean this tile . As I move through the tiles in this way, I never encounter one containing the tedium and struggle I feel when I even think about cleaning under the tub.

And that’s a major clue. The real pain of many tasks is psychological, arising from the way the mind processes them, not so much from the actions that constitute the tasks themselves. It really matters whether the goal is to clean the tiles or clean the floor.

The general rule seems to be this: the more abstract we make an event – that is, the more we see it in terms of its meaning to the mind, rather than how it feels to the senses – the greater the psychological pain that is created. The more we can zoom into the direct experience, and refrain from engaging with <a dir="ltr" href="https://www.raptitude.com/2020/04/how-to-take-a-break-from-your-mind/">the story around it </a>, the less of a pain in the ass it is.

I stumbled across this principle years ago, while working in a New Zealand orchard. The job was physically grueling: pluck kiwifruit endlessly from overhead vines, while dust and itchy kiwi fuzz fall into your face and down your t-shirt. However, once I learned to simply watch my hands pick this pair of fruit, drawing my attention back whenever it drifted to the context – how many hours were left, how mean the boss was, the cold Coca-Cola in my lunchbox — it got ten times easier.

I made a rule not to dread work on the way to work, or join my co-workers in complaining about a shift after it ended. No need to expand the task’s unpleasantness beyond what it actually required.

This was easier than it might sound, as long as I remembered the rule. There was always something more interesting to do or think about when I wasn’t actually pulling the fruit down.

That tactic got me through those hard months in the orchard, but I didn’t really know how to apply the principle elsewhere. Now I’ve got a handy refrain for cutting away the psychological cruft that forms around unpleasant tasks: clean the tiles, not the floor.

Photo by <a dir="ltr" href="https://unsplash.com/@rocinante_11">Mick Haupt </a>

Finally! Raptitude is now on Patreon. It's an easy way to help keep Raptitude ad-free. In exchange you get access to extra posts and other goodies. Join a growing community of patrons. <a dir="ltr" href="https://patreon.com/raptitude">[See what it's all about] </a>

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Clean the Tiles, Not the Floor

On taking on small tasks vs. 1 big task

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