BY HARRY WEEKES
Many years ago, I was introduced to the phrase “productive frustration” in a newspaper piece. In the article, the author bemoaned how quickly we get answers to questions in the digital era. The author longed for a different time and went on to discuss the benefits of not knowing, or the productive frustration that comes with mulling over something for a stretch of time when you don’t know the answer.
I have strived to embrace productive frustration — to let a topic turn in my mind. And in the great laundry machine of my thinking, to let the idea or the observation cycle in and out of the window of my perception, sometimes lingering, often times just flickering for a moment before disappearing into the pile of other thoughts vying for attention.
This fall I have been able to say “I have no idea” many, many times, and have been able to ponder a lingering puzzle. The puzzle? “Why did so many trees hold onto their leaves this fall and winter?” This often came accompanied with a flurry of other questions: “Why did the aspen on our doorstep keep all of its leaves, and keep most of them green well into December?” “Why was I chasing dried leaves across the snow outside my house?” “Why wasn’t it all the aspens?” “Why was it so many different kinds of trees?”
I have no idea.
OK, I have inklings. Around a warm fall. Around a quick frost. Around the timing and convergence of the two.
So far, I have resisted finding any kind of definitive answer (as though there is one — another dangerous line of Internet thinking — “This is the answer” syndrome) other than chasing the ideas that pop up in my mind. Something about abscission layers came and went. As did wondering about climate trends and past examples. And looking into the precipitation patterns over the last couple of years to see if there was something more global, more ‘meta.’
It has been wonderful to see what bubbles up, both in terms of this one topic, and then around other “I have no ideas.” Here is my current short-list of favorites:
- There is a rabbit who consistently eats my lawn. As soon as it snows, he stops grazing on the open grass in favor of hopping into the snow, and digging down to the grass underneath — seemingly much more inconveniently located. Why does he do this? I have no idea.
- We have bugs in our house that are frequently found around the bathtub, walking along a faucet, or at the edge of the floor. You know, the usual haunts. If you crush one of these, they smell exactly like oregano. Why? I have no idea.
- Puppy breath. How is it that puppies have puppy breath and then it ends? I have no idea.
A wonderful thing I have realized about all this not knowing is that many people have their own lists of things they are curious about. I simply bring up the leaves, and immediately people ask right back, “Yeah, what’s up with that?” “And you know what, what’s up with those logs at Redfish? You know, how some of them float, but not like logs, like growing trees?” Nope. I have no idea.
My take on the idea of productive frustration and its loss in the digital era is a little bit different. It is not longing for a different time, but rather a reminder to myself to embrace a different process. Resist the computer. Let these little items of intrigue continue their curious dance in my mind. The answer is being OK simply with the question.
Harry Weekes is the founder and head of school at The Sage School in Hailey. This is his 50th year in the Wood River Valley, where he lives with Hilary and one of their three baby adults—Simon. The other members of the flock, Georgia and Penelope, are currently fledging at Davidson College in North Carolina and Middlebury College in Vermont, respectively.
