Work hard, play hard
North Americans have a more intensive work ethic than any other western country. Employees in European companies receive anywhere from six (Italy) to eight (Finland) weeks of paid vacation each year. Canadians receive about three weeks and Americans two.
When we work for an extended period of time at a deficit, we’re no longer productive. I’ve come across studies that correlate with the work hard, play hard philosophy. It’s most easily demonstrated in self-employed, or commission driven individuals since their incomes fluctuate according to their productivity. Over time, the more four-day weekends and extended holidays people took, the more their output and thus incomes increased.
In Timothy Gellway’s book, The Inner Game of Tennis, which is less about the physical mechanisms of great play than it is about finding and staying in ‘the zone’, he talks about the habits of great players. At one point, he distills an observation that he finds crucial to success – the moment of rest. He was able to isolate a difference in performance between players who pushed themselves relentlessly and those who paused, for even a heartbeat, to catch their breath and steady their hand. That moment made all the difference.
Despite the temptation to go, go, go in the fear that we’ll miss something, it’s an act of trust to slow down. In Stacey Peralta's brilliant surfing documentary, Riding Giants, he profiles Laird Hamilton, considered by many to be the world's greatest living surfer. Laird pioneered the big, big wave surfing apparatus - tow-in via jet skis - to reach the very biggest waves that just couldn't be accessed by paddling out with human arms. This is a man who is constantly pushing the bar, reaching higher, finding equilibrium and then reaching some more.
It’s an intoxicating film, and an intoxicating life.
The most fascinating part of the whole movie for me was watching Laird on the days when there were no waves: a beautiful portrait of him staring forlorn, lost at a flat sea. He's actually depressed. It reminds me that no matter how much I love the big waves, the moments of being thrilled when I’m pushing myself into new territory, that there are lulls in which I regroup. Rest is necessary - using that time to restock, replenish and be ready for the next set that scoops me up and takes me out of my comfort zone and into someone else I could be.
We can take that as a microcosmic example of the power of rejuvenation.
Building in more pleasure and downtime feeds us at a deep level that wellsprings out into our entire lives. Ideally, much of the pleasure we experience is derived from the work we do. Even if we love our work, time spent away from it in fulfilling play enhances the energy we bring back to it.
