Three Things I Learned from a Broken Compass
I bought a compass at a market in Galway. It was brass, heavy, and completely unreliable. It pointed south-southwest regardless of where you stood. I kept it anyway.
Thing one: certainty is overrated
The compass was wrong, but it was consistently wrong. After a while, I learned to compensate. I knew that wherever it pointed, north was roughly 200 degrees the other way. A broken instrument you understand is more useful than a working one you don’t.
Thing two: all tools are extensions of intention
The compass didn’t find north. I found north, using the compass as a reference point. The tool didn’t do the work — it gave me something to push against. Most tools work this way, if you’re honest about it.
Thing three: keep the broken things
I still have the compass. It sits on a shelf next to a clock that runs fast and a pen that skips. These objects remind me that imperfection is not the same as uselessness.
Note
This piece exists to demonstrate the details and callout shortcodes. The compass is fictional. The sentiment is not.
This piece exists to demonstrate the details and callout shortcodes. The compass is fictional. The sentiment is not.