"Anything worth doing is worth doing badly." Chesterton

This adage from Chesterton is even more precious today than when he penned it almost a century ago. The first and immediate value, for many of us, is that it frees us from the paralysis of a perfectionism that expects high standards and is upset by anything else. It frees us for action, initiative, agency...even if we don't expect perfect results. This takes on more meaning in a society of technological development, expertise, and regulatory rigor that seems to teach us that we can do nothing on our own that is not certified by high, extrinsic standards of efficiency, productivity and value. This is especially true for men: a part of the crisis of masculinity is that we have been disenfranchised from traditional arenas of male accomplishment by an all-encompassing technocratic bureaucracy. How good it is to be free to do something...something of value...even if it is sloppy, incomplete or imperfect by someone else's standards. But Chesterton intended something deeper. He celebrated the "amateur"...someone who does something for the love of it, not because it earns money or recognition or satisfies some extrinsic need or standard. And so we know that the most important things in life are done by us as "amatuers"...we pray, we love our families and friends, we sing, we philosophize in blog essays, we garden, we dress up to be beautiful, we compete in sports. This is not to deny the need, in our society especially, the urgency of excellence in expertise: we don't want sloppy brain surgeons, engineers or nuclear scientists. Nor is this to repress the desire for excellence. Rather, this allows us, especially the less competent and confident among us, to start slow; to accept imperfection; and then to patiently, hopefully learn, improve and move deeper into the Good, the True and the Beautiful.This adage begs to be completed by its complement:  "Anything worth doing is worth doing well!" This is because anything worth doing is worth it in itself, not for something extrinsic. And so I pray, not for self-improvement or more efficacy in activism, but because I love God. I enjoy my grandchildren not to coach them to success, but because they are delightful in themselves, regardless of accomplishments. I enjoy my garden not because it lowers my carbon imprint, but because it is beautiful in itself. In a society of grandiosity, technological omnipotence, and meritocratic careerism, it is good for us to delight in "the little way" of acts done imperfectly, gratefully, modestly and generously!