Finishing a research project might be defined as every “i” dotted, every figure beautifully rendered (vectorgraphically, of course), the notation elaborated, the message crisp and clear, the code documented, unit-tested, and formatted, the theorems proven and sketch-proven, each extension exploited. But is that realistic?
As a perfectionist, I did believe that (and sometimes still do). If I catch myself, I recall the advice from one of my mentors:
You cannot finish a project, you can only stop working on it.
First, it might seem like devastating news; in some sense, it certainly is since it acknowledges our limited time and resources. Generalizing this quote beyond research, it also reminds us of our mortality since nothing is more certain than there will be an end.
We can be frightened and anxious about such dire prospects or let this redefine our approach and realize the revelation. Since everything has an end, we can strive for the best within those constraints. Life is constrained optimization in the end.
Accepting that we need to stop does mean that a conference deadline can be our ally. It can force us to distill the core message of our research, establish clarity, and avoid falling into the tracks of doing the same thing indefinitely.
Also, we need to realize that stopping something without realizing its potential reminds us of the value of scarcity: these limitations lend value to our time. There is this parable in the Bible when a poor lady donates all her money to people in need. This story is to teach us that:
Giving is only of value if it is a sacrifice to the giver.
If we spend our precious time on an endeavor, then it signals that we value that highly. Unlimited access to anything often leads to us forgetting its true value. A glass of water or good health is appreciated more if it is not there. What we should take away is that limitations are not bad per se. As the Stoics said
circumstances are neither good nor bad, our perception attributes them as such.
On the other hand, these limits can feel a burden, especially when the infamous reviewer two asks for more things—which might start a cascade of rumination thinking about what is “enough.” To stop that before it conquers our minds, let us recall the story in which Joseph Heller was informed that a hedge fund manager had made more money in a single day than Heller had earned from his wildly popular novel Catch-22 over its whole history. Heller responded:
Yes, but I have something he will never have . . . enough.
A notion of enough embodies the cardinal virtue of temperance (yes, the Ancient Greeks, again), and it might seem from the outside as an acceptance of mediocrity, even more, an excuse for it. However,
temperance in this context means the self-acceptance of making the best out of our limits, bringing a tranquility that is a soothing haven against the push coming from the publish or perish culture of academia.
This is not about mediocrity but about accepting our limits. Then, we can make it count and give our best. Remember:
Constrained optimization problems can have an optimum, though it is probably different than the unconstrained one.