So sang Paul Simon.
I don’t know whether or not it’s true, but given that everything is in a constant state of flux it probably is.
To put something together means to construct or create something by assembling parts or pieces into a cohesive whole. You can put together all kinds of different things, such as: plans and programs, parties, wardrobes or individual outfits, songs, collages, businesses, governments, buildings, careers, lesson plans, and meals.
These are not the same kinds of things, so success at putting one kind of thing together doesn’t imply you will have success putting another kind of thing together. Some of these things have an aesthetic component, some have more of a structural component than others, and some are personal while others may involve the input or judgment of multiple parties.
Put-together can also be an adjective used to describe a person—either their appearance or their entire life. Put-together can also describe, say, the interior of a house or a documentary or a garden.
I have a neutral attitude toward the concept of putting something together, depending on what the thing is and the outcome of its being put together. It’s fun to put things together, but it’s also fun to take them apart.
I have a somewhat negative attitude toward put-together as an adjective. It has an implication, for me, of too much thought going into the outward appearance or impression of something. It makes me think of too much orderliness, coordination, or tidiness. Too tightly knit a structure. No room for improvisation, randomness, or surprise. Slickness.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been revisiting favorite music from the 90s. The project has involved some discussion with a friend, who I worked with during nearly the entire decade, about our opposite reactions to 90s vs 80s music. For the most part, she spaced out 90s music and I did the same for the 80s. As I’ve been thinking about these concepts of undone and put together, one thing clicked, which is my impression of 80s music and musicians as being more put-together and 90s music and musicians—at least the ones I liked—being considerably more undone. I mean the 90s did usher in grunge!
Coming Undone
This was what could happen to you. You could end up this far from where you thought you were going. —Wally Lamb, She’s Come Undone
She’s Come Undone was published coincidentally in 1992. I read it sometime in the 90s and recall liking it but not much about the plot or characters. I think it’s the same title as another book, a memoir about a terrible childhood. In the late 60s, the Guess Who had a hit song in Undun (I guess spelling wasn’t a priority for them). Duran Duran, Robbie Williams, and other musicians also sang about coming undone. In all these cases, undone describes a negative state. And, indeed, the first definitions you come across for the word are:
- Not done or completed; unfinished
- Ruined; destroyed
- Unfastened; untied
Put-together, on the other hand, is variously defined as:
- Functioning in an orderly way or according to a plan
- In a stable and successful condition
- Very physically attractive
- Stable (again), competent, responsible
On the face of it, one seems obviously preferable to the other. But we are still exploring troublesome knowledge over here, and so we’re going in the counterintuitive direction.
Figuratively Speaking
The concept of coming undone came to me kind of out of left field—not as part of a logical-linear thought process. So I’ve been trying to both determine and describe the meaning, which most closely relates to the third definition above: unfastened or untied. But what I’m talking about doesn’t refer so much to things or systems (although it can), but to people.
That means being figuratively undone, rather than literally so, which has been described differently by different people:
- A person has lost his or her composure or self-control.
- Something hits you out of left field and you can’t help but cry.
- You experience an unexpected solemn moment or event that causes deep feelings.
- Your life or some aspect of it is ruined.
- Something (maybe a relationship) is fading away or falling apart.
Loss of composure seems to come closest to hitting the mark. In writing exercises, I’ve come up with close to 120 words or phrases I can associate with undone. During one period of flow writing, I said:
Some experiences or places in nature generate a sense of awe and make you feel or cause you to be, somehow, undone: something powerful you don’t expect and so don’t have a defense against.
In this context, undone means you were put-together in some manner. Parts connected. Working. You had a structure for being in the world and experiencing and processing the world. You knew “what was what.” But when something or someone comes along that blows your mind, your structure begins to come apart. You’re no longer so sure. You’re no longer on such firm ground or footing. You realize you don’t know as much as you thought you did—or else what you knew was wrong—or could be wrong.
You are, in a sense, at a loss: for words, for a concept, a context, a way of framing things. You could be in liminal space, depending on how you respond.
There’s also a kind of rawness, openness, and vulnerability to allowing yourself to be undone by someone or something else. Is it even possible to truly learn anything important, really connect deeply with another person, or be in the presence of the natural world without a willingness to be undone?
I’ll leave you, for now, with that last question because I suspect that coming undone is essential to creating anything, but especially transformational change.
Oh, and another question: what are the implications?
*Regarding the song, I like the sound, the energy, the exuberance, and the organized chaos. It’s an instant uplift.