Now I’m no mind reader, but I suspect the Dude loves bowling for its own sake. Sure, he enjoys the camaraderie of Walter and Donny, and the bowling alley is a decent place to get a cold oat soda, but my hunch is that the Dude doesn't treat bowling instrumentally. He does not treat bowling as a means to some other end: he's not bowling to burn calories, network with business contacts, or improve his hand-eye coordination. The Dude gives zero fucks about optimization. I suspect he just bowls and enjoys the simple pleasure of trying to hit pins with a heavy ball. There is no larger purpose.
The rest of us, though? We've forgotten how to be like The Dude. It seems like so many of our daily activities are not done for their own sake, but for the promise of achieving something.
Take the so-called Huberman morning routine. His meticulously timed regimen demands morning sunlight, exercise, precisely timed caffeine, cold showers, and hydration. Huberman cloaks this routine in scientific legitimacy, throwing around terms like cortisol spikes and testosterone optimization, despite the evidence he cites being dubious at best. What's most troubling is how he's transformed morning routines from potentially enjoyable rituals into productivity optimization algorithms. None of these steps are recommended because they feel good or bring joy; they're prescribed based on the misplaced belief that they'll mathematically optimize your health and productivity like you're some kind of human spreadsheet.
Even meditation—a practice about being present—has been instrumentalized. Meditation apps don't promise the experience of quieting the mind; they promise productivity boosts, stress reduction, better focus. "Ten minutes a day to be 10% happier!" But what if meditation doesn't help with any of that? What if it's just sitting there noticing your thoughts? Isn’t that enough?
Things that were once pure pleasure have been transformed into health imperatives. Psychedelics shouldn't be taken because they can be fun AF, but because they can improve mental health. Rest isn't about blissful relaxation, but a means to recharge so we emerge more productive. When did we stop doing things just because?
This hit me recently when I came across a fascinating study about mice appearing to do things just for the fun of it. Scientists placed running wheels in natural settings to see if wild animals would use them voluntarily, without any rewards or incentives.
What they discovered was startling. Wild mice not only found and used the wheels but did so frequently and enthusiastically. Even when researchers removed all food from the experimental area, the mice still came to run on the wheels. It wasn't just mice either: the researchers recorded frogs, shrews, and even slugs voluntarily using the wheels. (And don’t ask me how a slug possibly uses a running wheel, but the authors provided receipts).
The conclusion was clear: these animals were running for the pure joy of running. No rewards, no external purpose, no optimization, no 30 minutes of cardio to burn 300 calories. Running on a wheel just because.
When's the last time you did something just because it was fun? No health benefit to justify the time spent. Just pure, purposeless fun.
I am far from the only one complaining about today's optimization culture. This obsession with turning every moment into a productivity hack has been critiqued by thinkers much sharper than me, who've recognized how we're increasingly trapped in a cycle of optimizing our lives rather than living them. (...)
The problem with optimization culture is that it imposes external goals on things that might be inherently pleasurable; optimization is always about the outcome, never the process. When we optimize our morning routines, we're not doing so because the routine itself is inherently pleasurable; we're doing it to maximize some future benefit—productivity, health markers, longevity. It transforms activities that could be enjoyable into mere instruments for achieving external goals.
by Michael Inzlicht, Speak Now Regret Later | Read more:
Image: uncredited
[ed. Golfing defined.]
