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‘Spuddle’ is an archaic word from the 17th century that means to work ineffectively; to be extremely busy whilst achieving absolutely nothing; to assign trivial things undue importance.
In true Dilbertian style, upon encountering this word, several of my colleagues leapt in resonance suggesting that this word described their common experience of life and work.
It was <lol>, in a gallows humor sort of way.
In the group chat, one colleague wrote: “How do you use that in an sentence? This whole academic year has been a spuddle? I feel like all I do is spuddle?”
Another declared: “I am spuddling, I have spuddled, and I will spuddle in the future.”
A third quipped, “Well as Paul says, ‘for all have spuddled and fallen short of the glory of God.’”
I observed that in one meeting this week, where we were discussing the problem of addressing problems while being chronically under-resourced, my boss affirmed, understood, and appreciated my rationalizations for past and future spuddling. I felt like I should be indicted for spuddling along and not being sufficiently strategic. Affirmation and understanding felt better, but….
In a different conversation, I was accused of undermining the proper authority of staff in the midst of a dysfunctional situation by “riding in on my white horse” to save the day, making an already bad situation even more dysfunctional!? My attempt to address an important issue turned out to be just me making more spuddles.
It got me thinking…what would an unspuddled life, or day for that matter, look like?
Is to spuddle human and to achieve something meaningful divine?
I hope that’s not the case.
Maybe I need to reread Tim Ferris’s Four Hour Work Week or one of those purpose driven life styled leadership books.
Or, just maybe, I could take time to meditate with the intention of attending to life’s important work — to be whole, complete, and lacking nothing and to let drop my illusory attachment to the idea that much effort must inevitably lead to great effect.
one hour essay # 002
