Is an excellent life achieved through an accumulation of many excellent acts? Or are some things worth doing badly?
Is it worth doing at all?
The universe is vast and contains such wonders as cubic wombat feces and Ovid’s Metamorphoses. In the brief, bright whisper of a single life, what is really worth doing?
Is it worth doing well?
When you finally turn your attention from the care of an infant, when you set aside a chapter or a stanza, when the meeting ends, will you celebrate parenthood or literature, music or community by giving your best to everything else? You can be exhausted, wrung dry. Is the appearance of excellence more important than dedication to your true values?
Is it worth doing badly?
Some tasks demand doing. How many of those are fertile ground for mediocrity and indulgent, chop-smacking incompetence? Satisfaction can be found in completing menial tasks well, but doing them badly can be delightful.
Invite reproach
You may feel a compulsion to be beyond reproach. You brandish your sword of excellence, fearless in the face of regret. Perhaps you will miss out on indulgence and adventure, but all in the service of a first-class life where no moment caught you in a state of mediocrity. But time is very large. It sits on our feet like a friendly Bernese Mountain Dog and it doesn’t acknowledge reproach. So maybe invite reproach, be scatty, be sloppy, and be discerning. Not everything is worth the best of you.