You're Doing it Wrong: A (Mostly) Cheerful Rebuttal

 

“I read an article this morning claiming that my goal of walking ten thousand steps a day is totally worthless.”

We were on our morning “family walk“—me, Bob, and our 8-month-old Bernese Mountain Dog puppy, Stein Eriksen. While we often find ourselves yelling at Stein to behave, that morning, we discussed something interesting I’d just read.

I told Bob that the article basically said that making a step goal was meaningless unless I walked at a certain pace. Bob said, “I think when I tell my doctor that I am walking a 10-minute loop in our neighborhood several times a week, he’s going to say, ‘Great job!’” And I agreed. We’re not trying to break records, we’re not entering any competitions, and we’re not training for a marathon. For us, and I’m guessing a lot of people, moving is simply better than not moving.

There were, I’m sure, plenty of facts and evidence to support the article about “meaningless” steps. But it brought up something that has been bothering me for some time now: I see “you’re doing it wrong” everywhere, all the time. Everywhere I look, from social media to videos to news feeds, the clickbait titles make it harder not to feel like we’re all doing something (or many things) wrong in our daily lives.

I remember once watching a video of a woman applying mascara (yes, yes, I did). The title of the video was similar: “You’ve been applying mascara wrong your whole life.” Essentially, the woman in the video demonstrated a slightly different technique, which, incidentally, I found very helpful. But had I been doing it wrong?

Now, I am not so fragile that I can’t stand up to correction or education. I am a curious person, so I’m always looking for different or better ways to do things. I wasn’t born knowing how to fold a fitted sheet, so I had to learn from someone. My sheet-folding teacher may have thought, “She’s doing it wrong,” but if they had the thought, they kept it to themselves. Some teachers may be more patient than others.

So maybe part of my issue is one of “politeness.” That may be a very old-fashioned notion, but then again, maybe I am just old. In my upbringing, calling someone “stupid” was a serious breach of etiquette. It was just not done (at least not where my mother could hear you). This instilled in me a sense of respect and kindness that feels increasingly rare in a world that seems hell-bent on pointing out what we’re doing wrong.

This constant (and sometimes unkind) pointing out of flaws has me wondering: has the way we communicate made things a little colder? A little less patient? It feels like instead of offering guidance, we’re more often ready to jump in with criticism.

Look, I get it—there are times when precision matters, like if you’re defusing a bomb or performing brain surgery. (I’m having invasive thoughts of two surgeons standing over a patient and one telling the other, “You’re doing it wrong.”) But is there only one “right” way to apply mascara, load the dishwasher, or eat chicken wings? Probably not.

There are some Catholic saints who were well known for giving it to us straight. One is St. Josemaría Escrivá, the Spanish priest who founded Opus Dei. He believed that holiness was achievable for everyone and that we can strive for it in the middle of our ordinary lives. He believed that our journey toward holiness often requires us to confront hard truths about ourselves and our actions, and his advice could come across as harsh at times. He was even known to use the word stupid. “Only the stupid are obstinate; the very stupid are very obstinate.” (Furrow, 274)

Ouch! Isn’t this just “You’re doing it wrong, the Catholic saint edition?”

Actually, no. It is true he didn’t sugarcoat things. But unlike today’s clickbait culture, his intent was not to tear us down but to challenge us to strive for the life God intended for us. St. Josemaría’

s motto was “Nunc coepi! — now I begin!” It is a hopeful, joyful, and a little rowdy cheer to start again and again and again. It’s not about perfection; it’s about striving for it.

As I have been thinking about this (and hoping no one comes at me saying, “You’re doing it wrong), I have also had a Scripture pop into my mind:

But I shall show you a still more excellent way. (1 Corinthians 12:31)

The more excellent way is the way of love.

At least among us friends, can we show each other a more excellent way? New ways to help make each other’s lives more beautiful, more efficient, healthier, or more peaceful? Maybe there is a new way to do laundry or a new approach to puppy training (please, let this be true), but can we teach each other these things in the way of love?

Maybe we’ll start something new.