“Nothing is wasted in nature,” I whispered to myself as I dumped moldy strawberries in our composter.

I despise wasting food. There are so many things wrapped up in the production of our food – from how farm workers are treated to the amount of fertilizer used – that throwing it away feels a bit like sacrilege. But we bought far too much for our Christmas fruit salad and the extra got shoved back in the fridge with the other holiday leftovers. So into the composter it had to go.

I at least had the solace that this food wouldn’t be wasted – it would break down into good compost to feed our garden next fall. Just like the fallen leaves in the forest feed the insects and fungus, which in turn feed the roots of the trees and other plants.

In fact, this is idea that nothing is wasted in nature is a mantra I’ve been trying to adopt in life far beyond our composter.

In particular, I’m trying to throw off the idea of “wasted time,” especially in terms of family time. Sometimes, it feels like all time with our kids must be some ideal of “quality time.” That we have to have Big Conversations and childhood dreams fulfilled. That even when we’re just at home chilling, that they must be the makings of lifelong memories. The urge to point out that not everything needs to be Disney World or international travel is totally legit, but we can ease off the pressure.

That includes me. I sometimes get angry at my husband for sitting around and letting the kids watch him play the Marvel Snap phone game, feeling like they should be talking about something more important. Except for the fact that they all like the game and they’re not just passively watching him. He’s explaining what he’s doing, they’re giving (sometimes ill-conceived) advice, and he’s answering a million questions. They’re all enjoying their time together around a common interest. Sure, they’re not discussing astrophysics or racial justice, but we have plenty of those conversations in our household. Not everything has to be deep.

Similarly, not all family time needs to be playing together. It can be working side by side as my older kid does his homework and I finish my work day. It can be riding to school, yelling “What? I can’t hear you!” a million times because my kids keep talking when there’s traffic on a cross-street. It can be cheering them on in a video game that they care about, even if I’ve never played it. It can be sitting in the dark as my younger kid talks at bedtime, with me too worn out to listen, but present because he really wants me there.

Even things that are a failure aren’t “wasted time.” They’re a chance to learn what doesn’t work for you. For example, in an effort to stave off anxiety and lower stress, I tried doing some lengthy breathwork exercises for a couple days. I know I don’t like breathwork, but I wanted to give it a real, solid try. It was a total disaster. All that happened was I ended up bored and irritated, even when I adapted it to my needs as much as possible. In fact, my mental state was significantly worse afterwards than beforehand. While I started to get mad about wasting a couple hours of my life, I realized that now I know I can put breathwork aside as a tool. I gave it my best and it is just not for me. At all.

By honoring the idea that all things can be worthwhile and valuable in their own way, we can unleash ourselves from the constant grind of productivity. We can learn to find meaning in everyday ceremony. Ultimately, we can bring our lives a little more in line with nature’s rhythms and purpose.