I Love Complexity. Just Don't Complicate My Life!

My curious relationship between a poetic mind and a practical soul.

I have a confession to make.

I love words.

Not just ordinary words, but words with character, history, depth and perhaps a little drama. Words that make you stop, ponder, and occasionally reach for a dictionary.

I enjoy philosophy, poetry, metaphors and the fascinating marriage between art and science. I can spend a ridiculous amount of time contemplating the subtle differences between two seemingly similar words.

And I thoroughly enjoy doing so.

But hand me a 10-page SOP explaining how to complete a 2-page form, and suddenly, my appreciation for the English language takes a violent turn. Somewhere around page 1, my enthusiasm quietly packs its bags and leaves.

How can someone who appreciates complexity be so terribly intolerant of it?

A contradiction, perhaps? Well, not quite....

The Complexity That Fascinates Me

I have always believed that some of life's most beautiful things are not immediately understood.

Love, for instance.

We have studied it scientifically, written countless poems about it, composed songs, fought wars, made promises and broken hearts aplenty over it.

Yet, after thousands of years, nobody seems to have produced a satisfactory instruction manual.

Imagine one:

Step 1: Identify suitable partner.

Step 2: Establish emotional compatibility.

Step 3: Maintain affection in accordance with Section 4.2.

My Goodness -_-!!

Romance will be extinct before the first kiss! At least for me….

There are things in life that deserve exploration rather than explanation. Their beauty lies in their layers, contradictions and mysteries.

I find the same fascination in human behaviour, relationships, leadership and even financial planning.

Why do people make certain decisions? Why do some individuals endure extraordinary hardship while others surrender at the slightest inconvenience? Why does a seemingly insignificant act of kindness sometimes leave an impression that lasts a lifetime?

These questions intrigue me.

They invite curiosity, reflection from time to time, and even self-examination.

This is the kind of complexity that I enjoy.

Complexity that makes us think deeper, feel stronger and understand better; and then there is Complexity that makes me wanna scream....

Now, let's talk about the other kind.

The kind that arrives disguised as professionalism.

You know what I'm referring to.

Instructions written with such elaborate terminology that even the person who wrote them probably needs a few meetings to explain what they meant.

A workflow with 17 steps, 6 approval points, 4 supporting documents and a mysterious instruction that reads:

"Please refer to the relevant guidelines where applicable."

Which guidelines? Applicable to what? And why couldn't we have said this in the first place?

I sometimes wonder whether certain procedures were designed to help people accomplish their work or simply to demonstrate how much work went into designing the procedures! Lol!!

There is a difference.

A rather expensive one, too, considering the time wasted.

I appreciate good systems. I appreciate discipline, governance and accountability. In my profession, I understand why certain safeguards must never be compromised.

But I also believe that a system should serve the people using it, not the other way around.

Technology serves to eliminate human error and enhance the ease of doing work.

If something can be explained and done in 3-step, why insist on 7?

If a picture can communicate something instantly, why write 5 paragraphs?

And if a procedure requires an entire afternoon of training just to understand where to sign, perhaps the procedure itself needs some training…

Perhaps I'm Guilty Too

Now, before I sound like someone who has achieved enlightenment in simplicity, allow me to confess another uncomfortable truth.

I can be rather particular.

I have been known to revisit a sentence repeatedly, change a word, reconsider its meaning, adjust its tone, and then return to the original version because, well, it sounded better in the first place.

Quite an achievement, really.

6 hours of intellectual gymnastics to arrive exactly where I started.

But I do enjoy that process.

Because when I am writing something meaningful, I am not merely arranging words. I am trying to communicate an experience, an emotion, or a thought that deserves to be properly expressed.

However, when I'm designing a workflow, that same perfectionist tendency can become my enemy.

A process doesn't need to impress anyone.

It needs to work.

And that requires a different kind of discipline: knowing what to leave out.

I've come to realise that simplicity is not the absence of intelligence. It is often the result of intelligence being applied thoughtfully.

Anyone can make a simple thing complicated.

Making a complicated thing simple? Ah, now that takes some doing.

The Art and Science of Simplicity

In many ways, I see art and science as complementary.

Art invites us to appreciate possibilities. Eg: "What could this mean?"

Science helps us understand realities. Eg: "How does this work?"

And somewhere between the 2, we discover something rather wonderful: the ability to appreciate complexity without becoming its prisoner.

This philosophy also influences how I think about Heartitude.

When we speak about people, families, aspirations and legacies, I wanna explore the stories behind the numbers.

A Will is not merely a legal document. It represents wishes, responsibilities, relationships and sometimes difficult family conversations.

A financial plan isn't simply an assortment of calculations. Behind every figure is a human being, with hopes, fears and people they care about.

These matters deserve depth.

But once we have understood the person, identified the needs and decided what must be done, the process of carrying it out should be as clear and straightforward as reasonably possible.

The client shouldn't need to become a financial expert to understand their own financial plan.

Neither should a new colleague require a doctorate in administrative archaeology to find the correct form.

If we genuinely care about people, shouldn't we also care about their time, their understanding and their peace of mind?

Clarity, to me, is a form of consideration.

And simplicity, when thoughtfully designed, is an expression of respect.

A Work in Progress

Of course, I am still learning. I may overthink and overexplain.

Despite my fondness for simplicity, I have probably contributed my fair share of unnecessary complexity to this world.

The irony isn't lost on me.

But perhaps that's part of being human.

We spend our lives developing our minds, refining our habits and attempting to reconcile the person we are with the person we hope to become.

I want to remain curious enough to explore complicated ideas, humble enough to question my own assumptions, and disciplined enough to turn understanding into practical action.

I also hope to retain my sense of humour along the way.

Because life is complicated enough without taking ourselves too seriously.

So, if you ever find me enthusiastically discussing philosophy, semantics, human behaviour or the poetic intricacies of life, feel free to join me.

I could happily talk for hours.

But if you're explaining how to operate the office printer?

Please… 2-steps.

A picture would be lovely.

And Cham siong, Tolong, Tau kha chiu, Please, spare me the appendix.

A Thought to Leave With You

I've come to appreciate a simple distinction about myself:

"I enjoy complexity when it enriches understanding, but dislike complexity when it obstructs action."

Perhaps that's not a contradiction after all.

Perhaps it's simply recognising that different things deserve different kinds of attention.

Let stories be rich. Let ideas be profound. Let conversations be thoughtful. Let curiosity lead us into unfamiliar territory.

But when it's time to get things done, let clarity prevail!!

After all, I want my words to make people think, my stories to make people feel, and my systems to make life easier.

One deserves poetry.

The other deserves a flowchart.

And if we can manage both with a little intelligence, compassion and humour, I think we would be doing rather well.

Where Heart Leads.

— Alvin Lim | Heartitude