There are no isolated events, only processes that have gone unnoticed.

I have been thinking about processes lately, and like all of us, living in limbo within them. I am especially attempting to move contentedly within the unfinished sunshine of the linked-up, imbricate, tangential nature of process.

This week, I lived a process, a process of extraction, of annihilation, of removal. Everyday, in my few minutes of extra time — like some kind of deranged serial killer — I chopped small appendages into small pieces with my big loppers, and I sawed big appendages up with my reciprocating saw, and I stuffed them all in the trash for disposal.

Today the evidence disappeared, along with the hedge we had removed, when the trash truck came by, and now, in place of an old overgrown side yard, is my beautifully renewed and glowing side yard filled with flowering shrubs, stone pavers and wooly thyme.

It was a killing — and a vivifying. It was a process. It was a process of removing old thirsty sod and an over grown and entangled hedge and replanting water-saving beauty. I liked it.

Processes are good. They take some guts, often some team work and a good amount of persistence, but they can pay off nicely.

Looking back, redoing the yard was a crazy amount of work, but it was worth it. My wife and I have increased the beauty of our world; we will save water this next year, we applied and will receive a rebate from the water authority to pay for our work, and we have proven yet once again that we are a force, a team, able to transform reality together.

I enjoyed the process, but I am an American, so it was only somewhat enjoyable. I found myself rushing, trying to get through it. In American culture, we do this, and we are too often all about products. We want things done, in hand, fast, perfect.

That’s not reality. Life is a process, few thing are complete in one move, there seem to always exist a set of steps, a sequence or two, an overlap, the shift needed to get it done. And is it ever really done?

I want to get good with processes so I can be good with life. In much of life, the process is the product. The process is in itself meaningful, a kind of good end in itself, not something to simply rush through. Within every process exists hope, expectation, excitement, meaning, change, relationship, teamwork, good.

Good processes, like good relationships, are hard, long, expensive — and gorgeously and meaningfully fulfilling.

Sure, love products. They are fun.

But also, love processes! They are even funner!

You can check out the modern proverbs and epigrams that I recently wrote about “process” at

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