In defense of the empty desk
If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?
“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”
This question has been famously attributed to Albert Einstein, perhaps the most brilliant mind in modern history. There is no evidence as to whether he actually said this, so we can’t know for sure. Still, we can assume he at least lived by it.
In early April of 1955, Einstein passed away. LIFE Magazine photographer Ralph Morse tried to visit the hospital where he died, only to find it packed with other photographers like himself, journalists, and onlookers. Seeing this, he instead decided to head over to Einstein’s office at Princeton University. On the way, he stopped to buy a bottle of scotch, which he then offered to the building superintendent in exchange for opening up Einstein’s office. This is how he found his desk.
It looks like the desk of someone actively working on an incredibly important problem who had just stepped away for a second. But no, this is how the greatest mind of an entire generation had his desk: as cluttered as one can possibly get.
Because of Einstein’s obvious authority on matters of the mind, one can’t help but find themself agreeing with the hypothesis that a cluttered desk is better than an empty one. After all, if Einstein of all people had his desk like this, how could we think we know any better?
I’d like to be the idiot that contradicts Einstein. I’ll counter the genius of Einstein with a very different type of genius, expert in a completely different facet of the mind. If you’ve read some of my earlier posts, you’ll know Rafa Nadal is one of my biggest idols, not just in sports, but life overall.
Watching him perform his ridiculous yet classic rituals every match taught me a lot about the role of obsession, discipline and routine in performance. There are at least 19 rituals he performs in any given match. From the cold shower before the match, to stepping onto the court with the right foot first, to his pre-serve routine (short - left shoulder - right shoulder - nose - left ear - nose - right ear), it seems that every single one of the moves he makes while the ball is not in play is pre-meditated.
One of these rituals consists of drinking from one bottle, carefully placing it at his feet, drinking from the other bottle, then placing it right behind the other diagonally towards the court.
Why would he go through the trouble every single time of something so obsessive and seemingly superstitious? Because it has nothing to do with that.
"I put the two bottles down at my feet, in front of my chair to my left, one neatly behind the other, diagonally aimed at the court. Some call it superstition, but it’s not. If it were superstition, why would I keep doing the same thing over and over whether I win or lose? It’s a way of placing myself in a match, ordering my surroundings to match the order I seek in my head."
Strip it of its sports context and think of it in an archaic language, and it echoes the sentiments of ancient philosophers; it’s almost Confucian.
If you order everything in your surroundings that’s within your power, you can achieve that same order in your mind. If you rid yourself of all the clutter around you, you too can rid your mind of clutter. And cleaning up the clutter does not mean you’ll have nothing else to think about. On the contrary, a cluttered desk can’t fit anything else on it. Look back at that picture of Einstein’s office. If someone handed you a notebook and told you to leave it in that desk, I assure you you’d spend some time looking around trying to find the best place to put it.
An empty desk is like a blank canvas. You can make what you want out of it. It allows you to enter a flow state of mind and know what’s important at the moment and what’s not, best equipping you to take on the task at hand. You are not limited by the terrain caused by the clutter, only by the dimension of the desk. Even upon the same surface, order will uncover the space previously obscured by clutter. Clutter will constrain you. Order will open up the world for you.
I’m sure this Einstein guy knows a thing or two about matters of the mind, but I must disagree with him here. Echoing the famous sentiment of “if you want to change the world, start off by making your bed” by Admiral William H. McRaven: whatever is in your power to make your life marginally better and allow you to set your mind in order, do it.
How can we expect to enact any sense of control upon the outside world when we don’t enact any sense of control upon ourselves? Who are we to expect we can improve the state of the world when we can’t even improve the state of our desk? There’s so much within our control that we could fix in a matter of minutes that we leave untended, leaving our minds untended as well.
I’m nobody to debate Einstein’s ways, but we’re not all Einstein. Maybe his desk had to be cluttered for X or Y reasons. Perhaps a mind of his caliber couldn’t handle an empty desk. But to get to that point, you have to gain the right to that clutter. A cluttered desk must be earned. It is a symptom, not a cause.
Give your mind that empty canvas. It’ll fill up as you go. Fill all your surroundings with inspiration: books, art, music, even windows will do. But leave your desk empty. Creativity doesn’t just happen, it must be nurtured day in and day out. If you want your mind to be free, you must give it the tools for liberation. It starts with an empty desk.
Of what, then, is an empty desk a sign of? Whatever you want it to be.
I’d like to thank my good friend Juan Carlos Alpizar for suggesting this topic. This was my first time writing from someone else’s encouragement and I’m extremely glad I got the opportunity. If you have any other topics you’d like to read about in Lincoln’s Hat, please make it known in the comments or privately. Thank you for reading.