The First Lean-to

Imagine a time in prehistory when humans lived as cave-dwelling hunter-gatherers, surrounded only by nature and limited to a few primitive tools. One day, a distant ancestor is out foraging when it starts to rain. Tired of being constantly soaked, he glances at the fallen branches and broad leaves—and suddenly has an aha moment: if he arranges them just right, he might be able to block the rain.

He gathers the materials and, after some trial and error, constructs the first lean-to—a watershed moment marking humanity’s first step out of nature and into a world of human-designed order. Sitting beneath it, he feels warmer, drier, and quite pleased with himself. “Well, that solves that,” he declares in whatever combination of grunts passed for language.

For a few days, the shelter holds up. Then one afternoon, it begins to leak. “What the #$%@!” he grumbles. “That’s not supposed to happen.” And with that, he makes the first to-do list—stuff he’ll have to get to later.

From that moment on, humans began designing things expecting them to work indefinitely as intended—and have been endlessly surprised ever since when they didn’t. That surprise continues to this very day.

In truth, nature isn’t supposed to follow human will. The sticks and leaves were already exactly as they were meant to be—scattered in a chaotic, natural pattern. Disorder is the default. So when things fall apart, they’re not failing; they’re simply behaving as they naturally would. We shouldn’t be shocked when nature disregards our plans. What’s truly surprising is when it cooperates.