Every day the imps of optimization whisper seductively: measure this, track that, finish this, optimize all the things. But the perfectly optimized life exists beyond a horizon that recedes as we approach it—there’s always another metric to track, another improvement to make. Instead of chasing this impossible goal, maybe we can cultivate a counterbalancing skill: the ability to discern between that which requires optimization and that which deserves reverence.

Some activities—work projects, athletic training, learning new skills—genuinely benefit from measurement and improvement. But others—walking, sleeping, reading, meditation, meals with family and friends—perhaps these are things to be savored. And if so, we should hold them sacred. We should allow walks to remain unmeasured wanderings, meals to be consumed without photographic evidence, books to be read mindfully and without hurry.

In a culture obsessed with achievement and self-optimization, this might be the most countercultural act possible: to leave some things unmeasured, untracked, unoptimized, unpublicized.

All the while, the imps will keep whispering.

I’ve had a similar arc with tracking my steps. I used to be extremely diligent, reaching 20,000 steps a day on average back when I was training for ultramarathons.

These days, though, I hardly track my fitness. I have a couple metrics that I watch to make sure I’m on the right track, but I don’t monitor things like my weight, my step count, or my resting heart rate.

And I’ve reached a similar conclusion: some things are just meant to be enjoyed.

Walking around the neighborhood is an extreme luxury when you do it without feeling the pang of guilt associated with being slightly behind your normal pace.

Listening to music is amazing when you are feeling it rather than tracking every song you listen to.

I should pare back more, to be honest. Like, why do I care about scrobbling every single song I’ve ever heard to my last.fm account?

My official position is a fact followed by an opinion: The fact is that iOS is built to work best when you just let the system handle things for you. The opinion is that I don’t particularly care how you use your own phone because it impacts me precisely 0%.

I’ve only recently noticed a direct impact on the correlation between my own acceptance of a person’s flaws and the improvement of my own mental health.

There are several posts on here about “letting go” and “dropping fucks” and whatnot that speak to this exact thing, but Matt’s explanation here is beautiful.

It doesn’t really matter why you swipe up on all your apps. If it makes you happy, and you don’t mind the slight hit to your UX by way of a tiny battery drain and longer initial load times, then by all means, you do you.

Reminds me of the Bluey episode where Bluey and Bingo are playing Grannies, and Bingo thinks Grannies can Floss (the dance).

After a bitter fight with her about it, Bluey’s mom says, “Well, do you want to be right, or do you want to keep playing the game?”

My mindset has always been that life is a series of things you Have To Get Right or face the consequences of being a Big Failure. That has led me to put immense pressure myself and on many of my individual decisions, including minor ones. As a consequence, I ended up with unreasonably high expectations for myself and others.

My neck hurts from nodding along so aggressively with this self-analysis.

This article has some solid advice if your neck hurts too.