The term atelic activity came to me while reading
Oliver Burkeman’s book Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals (Burkeman 2021). The book is about
the very contemporary malaise affecting our society: the lack of time, or more
accurately, our lack of success in “managing” our time. Burkeman approaches
time management from a different perspective, an alternative one, as Burkeman
is wont to do. The definition of atelic appears in Chapter 9: Rediscovering
Rest. Burkeman cites Kieran Setiya’s book (Setiya 2018) for the original
definition, which is: an activity whose value does not derive from its
telos, or ultimate aim. We are conditioned to live our lives in a goal-oriented
world, a telic world, which is a world where we have lost our ability to
pursue an activity for the sake of taking part in the activity. One synonym
that is often equated with atelic activities is that of a hobby, because
a hobby is something we do just to do. The example Burkeman uses is hiking: just
hiking, to partake in nature, to just do rather than hiking for the sake of
something tangible, like better health or to travel from one point to the
other.
Hobbies have come to have a negative connotation in our
society; hobbies are judged to be purposeless and inconsequential because hobbies
are something we do outside of our serious mission of being cogs in the
economic engine. This bias becomes obvious as we seek a definition for atelic.
Words like unfinished, incomplete, dreadful, revolting or repulsive
are used to define the term. Atelic pursuits have been judged as an activity
best befitting a dilettante; someone whose interest in any
subject which is considered to be of a superficial rather than professional
nature. Which leads us to another distinction that is also assumed in our
culture, that of the generalist.
David Epstein’s Range (Epstein 2019) dives into the
distinction between generalists and specialists: a generalist would be more
likely to pursue a subject, any subject in an atelic manner. Epstein discourses on the advantage
that a generalist, an amateur who is more likely to study a topic as an
outsider; someone, who by virtue of their ignorance of the prior arts, are concomitantly,
more likely to treat any problem with curiosity while not being affected by opinions
and experiences that are distorted by insider bias. This is often the difference
between having unconventional ideas for solutions versus staying with the same solutions
that loops around the same assumptions and well-trod solutions.
The generalist, i.e., amateur, is more likely to pursue
subjects in an atelic manner. Their purpose is not to search for A
solution for specific situations within specific contexts. Their purpose is to
learn and gather information, accrue experience, integrate those into
knowledge, with their sights set on learning and doing for the sake of learning
and doing. The amateur solutions may
often be unfeasible, unrealistic, or illogical, but that is where the most
original thinking comes from. It also goes without saying that the amateur’s process
is probably the least efficient and most time-consuming.
Burkeman specifically emphasized that we
hobbyists/dilettantes/atelic activity pursuers are more likely to be only
good enough at whatever it is that we choose to indulge in, but not be at an expert
level. We are amateurs in the best sense of the word. The key driving force is
our passion rather than necessity, hence the aversion to deadlines and timetables.
Deadlines and timetables dampen, defuses, and deflates the passion.
It wasn’t until I was knee deep in the muck of my
professional engineering life that I discovered that I not only did not fit
into my well-defined and constrained role as R & D engineer as dictated by
the industry, but the role was also antithetical to my natural inclinations. Of
course, I didn’t know enough at that time to classify my passions as being atelic
or that I was better attuned to be a generalist. One of the first
indications that I was a round peg trying to fit into square holes was early in
my career while I was having a conversation with a fellow engineer. We were
speaking about Number Theory, he just could not understand the value of
something that cannot obviously be applied to engineering, asserting that if it
doesn’t serve a practical purpose then it is just a waste of time. While I had always
marveled at the broad vision and insight demonstrated and are needed by
mathematicians. This is not to say that my head was completely in the clouds. After
all I was trained in engineering and not in the pure sciences, I appreciated
engineering and more often than not, I indulged in the same applications
orientation. Even as I reveled in my
role as a problem solver, I also enjoyed the opportunities that my “hobbies”
gave me to wander aimlessly.
Nothing made me happier than when I was researching and
learning for my job, ostensibly in search of practical solutions to the short-term
problems that occurred in my daily engineering responsibilities; but I found my
thrill in the act of learning, the application of the result of the learning was
a natural follow-through. I reveled in the discovery rather than the
implementation of the solution.
This is the reason that David Epstein’s idea of the generalists
versus specialists resonated with me. I finished reading his book after I came
to the realization that my efforts at being an engineer in the corporate
environment were desultory, that my intellectual inclinations were mismatched
with the needs of my chosen role in an industry-oriented profession, which caused
me to be intellectually disengaged. My temperament was more aligned with that
of a generalist, someone who Stays Calm and Know Things. Someone who has a hard
time justifying their existence in a corporate culture, where answers to
specific questions in a timely manner are required. No one knew what to do with
someone like me, someone who has a broad general knowledge of many things. I
was fortunate that I worked with many managers who saw value in my skills and
temperament, even though I hadn’t been aware of those skills and temperament myself.
I served my employers well when their needs and my talents aligned, they did
not waste their time or money on me, but I also did not fully develop into what
they wanted. It was at this point, after I made the connection, that I narrowed
the focus of my attention to my atelic pursuits.
My passions were for learning, for the accumulation of
knowledge which served to satisfy my own curiosity rather than satisfying
external needs. The word curiosity appeared prominently on my radar at
that point in my life. I indulged in reading, researching, and learning to answer my curiosity. Yet, as
happy as I was doing what I was doing; I was still feeling guilty about not
having an anchor, a project-oriented focus to my intellectual life, a timeline to
measure against. I convinced myself that I was doing all these things to help
my teaching and coaching just to justify the time that I was using to happily
meander, pick up digressions and tangential topics at will as they piqued my
curiosity. Even though my research did eventually help me in my teaching and
coaching, the result was beside the point rather than being the point.
Indeed, my experience as a generalist and practicing atelic
work has an added benefit. Doing for the sake of doing put me in the rarified
space that many have experienced, and I had previously spoken of: being in the flow.
(https://polymathtobe.blogspot.com/2023/01/volleyball-coaching-life-thoughts-are.html).
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi defines the state of flow as:
“Being completely involved in an activity for its own
sake. The ego falls away. Every action, movement, and
thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole
being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.” (Csikszentmihalyi 1990) Which nicely
links the atelic with being in the flow.
Edward Slingerland defines wu-wei , the Taoists term
for the idea of flow as: the dynamic, effortless, and unselfconscious
state of mind of a person who is optimally active and effective. (Slingerland 2014). Which also
ignores any mention of results or constraints, time or otherwise.
I will inevitably lose myself to the flow as I apply
myself to my atelic activities. Time disappears and labor is not labor
but joy. In other words, I was Doing by not Trying. Applying effortless
effort to my activities. Accomplishing without trying. The ideas have
intertwined in my mind so that being atelic is synonymous with being in the flow.
My opus operandi now are to have open-ended inquiries
at various stages of disarray, both in my mind and in what I had written down. Termination
dates of all the inquiries are not even secondary or tertiary, they just aren’t
important, as my curiosity drives me to continuing the path towards just doing
without end. Completion or mastery are not the central questions, my curiosity
comes first. The benefit of this approach is that I never give up on any
activity, I just put them to rest for a bit as I contemplate the intellectual difficulties
and conceptual challenges.
I still have telic tasks, and I do them diligently,
with the internal logic that the sooner I can get it done the sooner I get to
wander and wonder. It is impossible to just do the atelic things in our
lives, one just cannot survive in the world. Burkeman acknowledges this, his
point is that societal pressures and pragmatic considerations have driven us to
the point where even if we were to pursue anything in an atelic vein,
most would be unable to do so because our socially programmed and acculturated response
would be to subconsciously treat the atelic as telic. We would set
goals, create Gantt charts, and place undue psychological pressures on ourselves
because that is what we do through our procedural response to anything.
I would conjecture that my life is now split evenly between
the atelic and the telic. Too much of a good thing can become
mundane and rob me of the pleasures of the change of pace. We should not nor do
not live by bread alone.
1.
References
Burkeman, Oliver. Four Thousand Weeks: Time
Management for Mortals. Dublin, IRE: Vintage, 2021.
Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly. Flow: The Psychology of
Optimal Experience. NYC: HarperCollins, 1990.
Epstein, David. Range, Why Generalists Triumph in
a Specialized World. New York : Riverhead Books., 2019.
Setiya, Kieran. Midlife: A Philosophical Guide.
Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018.
Slingerland, Edward. Trying Not to Try: The Art
and Science of Spontaneity. NYC: Crown, 2014.