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Observations from a life in motion

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Being: Observations related to embracing the present moment

#79: Organic signals and the paradox of overengineering

I drink plenty of water because I naturally crave it. I often wonder after a refreshing drink whether plants feel the same way after getting watered: nourished from within. And then I wonder why, despite my affinity for water, I too sometimes fall into a pattern of forgetting and getting dehydrated.

I read somewhere that we can mix up our thirst and hunger signals. When I first read this, I thought “hum, interesting, that’s never happened to me”. But now that I’m cultivating a capacity to observe, I see it happens quite frequently. The common thread in these moments is that I’ve lost my connection to thirst signals because of busyness or distraction (likely missed or overrode initial signals). When I haven’t had adequate water in several days, it feels harder and harder to trace my way back to that faint signal. Then drinking water becomes a task; another thing to track and remember, and not something I do naturally.

I notice parallels with a number of other habits including meditation, writing, movement, sleep, and human connection…essentially anything that feels lifegiving. When I lose that organic signal from within because of modernity’s squeeze, there is pressure to start tracking the when, the how and, the how much. There is pressure to engineer the optimal routine. But once designed, it all backfires. Rather than following that engineered routine, part of me stops wanting to do something that comes so naturally to me.

There seems to be an experiential difference between leaning into the organic nurture of a practice and over-monitoring it for output. For me atleast, one seems to release the creative expansion of the practice and the other somehow robs it. One makes the habit magnetic and the other a bit repellant. It feels as if my psyche is saying: “Give me the tools to make healthful choices, but set me free to interact in those lifegiving pockets without a script.”

I want to build evolving gardens and not static skyscrapers.

“When I refer to ‘creative living,’ I am speaking more broadly. I’m talking about living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, journalist and author

#75: What is attention?

Is it intense pin-pointed focus on something or is it open awareness of the present, regardless of the object?

Does it come and go or is there an attentive part of us always waiting to be called upon?

Does it live in the body, like in the case of professional dancers or athletes? Where, over time, it takes the shape of muscle memory and mental interruptions are the last thing we need. Or does it live in the mind, like that of a scientist or a writer, deep in focus?

Is it in the achievement of the flow-state, where attention just courses through us without any sense of time? Or is it in the attentive preparation and effort that enables the sought-after flow state?

Is it better for attention to be unmediated by technology, like when we stare at the night sky and dream? Or can technology help us see what we couldn’t without, like a telescope that helps us see the contours of the night sky?

Do we create the world with our attention or is what we give attention to defined by the world we live in?

Is attention scarce or do we have enough of it and the struggle is really about where to apply this attention?

Could all of this be true?

“Before our minds create our world, the world creates our minds.” — Gabor Mate,  Hungarian-Canadian physician and author specializing in treatment of addiction

#69: Setting our Pace

Ever try to run fast to slow and somber music or meditate to loud heavy metal? Certain tempos just don’t jive with the task at hand. The same holds true for our internal rhythms. We all operate at varying baselines but every person functions within a range of energy and activity. It’s valuable to understand our personal range and what determines our fluctuation so we can, to the degree possible, match our internal rhythm with the pace of our tasks. It also ensures we don’t blindly slump into rhythms of those we cohabitate with, and makes for more joyful and constructive days.

A side note: When people mention rhythm and pace in a modern context, it’s often a reminder to slow down. That’s not what this is.

The pace of our days is determined in some part by us, then by our responsibilities, and the rest by our environment and culture. However, as we progress through life, our vocation and environment tend to command how we anchor our days so we often lose sense of our innate wiring. Our pace also shifts when we or our context evolve. This is an invitation to explore inputs that feed our pace and adjust what we need to. One may need to slow down or stop in places and engage or speed up in others.

Innate tendency:

  • Is my natural tendency to lower the gears so much that inertia sets in or fire them so much that stress and burnout sets in? We’re all somewhere in the middle but it’s a big continuum; where do I fall on it?
  • How do I like to spend my downtime when not influenced by others? Asked another way: what does my ideal Sunday look like?

Stamina:

  • Which of these comes easily to me and which do I struggle with: sleep, movement, nutrition.
  • When and how do I naturally like to sleep/move/eat when not influenced by others or my environment?
  • What type of stamina comes easily to me and what might I want to cultivate: mental, physical or emotional?
  • How else do I like to build my energy, and am I lacking that input (mental stimulation, human connection, play etc.)?

Type of work:

  • What does my work need of me – expansive and creative thinking, more focused and critical evaluation, a combination, or something else?
  • Am I lacking any tools or skills that could help me work more effectively?
  • Do I use tools that in a different context become hindrances? 

Seasonality:

  • Do certain tasks go more smoothly at certain times of the day or week, in certain types of places, in silence or with sound, surrounded by people or without?
  • Do I naturally structure my days or weeks a certain way?
  • How do I function at different times of the day, different seasons?

Focus:

  • How much time do I need time to warm up and settle into focus? Does it vary by task?
  • When am I easily distractible?
  • What causes 80% of my distractions? Is it external or internal?
  • When it’s internal, is it physical, mental or emotional?
  • When it’s external, is it something I can control or is it outside my influence?

Stakeholders:

  • Which humans or creatures depend on me?
  • What do they need from me? I.e. what is my role within each context?
  • Who needs energy from me and who offers energy to me?
  • What is their pace and “seasonality”? Do they need me more at certain times than others? Do I need others more at certain times?

We can sometimes latch onto identities and internalize them. This obscures the truth so when observing oneself, it’s best to ignore internal judgments.

For instance, I’m not (or perhaps no longer) a “night-owl” or “have the stamina of a marine” as I’ve been told. I do best when I eat early, ideally by 7:00pm, and sleep by 10:00pm. This was initially unsettling to me and while it rarely happens given my schedule, it’s my reality. Many useful learnings have come about by observing my rhythms without judgment. You might be startled or delighted by what you uncover.

“If we can allow some space within our awareness and rest there, we can respect our troubling thoughts and emotions, allow them to come, and let them go. Our lives may be complicated on the outside, but we remain simple, easy, and open on the inside.”— Tsoknyi Rinpoche: Nepalese Tibetan Buddhist teacher and author 

#57: Anatomy of Love

Our very first interactions of love in life occur in relational contexts that have pretty clear social definitions and expectations. This is for obvious reasons. We come into this world as helpless little mammals and are completely reliant on our caregivers for an extended childhood. Our survival and growth require commitment from others and ourselves. Over time though, if we’re not careful, that primary focus on the I, me and myself can condition us with unhelpful expectations such that any divergence from our personal norm causes harsh judgement of others or ourselves.

Early on in life, we are often too young to see our elders as unique individuals, with their own histories, aches and dreams. We may see them through a very narrow and sometimes selfish relational lens. Of course wanting mutual affection, care and security is quite natural but I’m trying to parse out a speediness of judgment. As we grow up and expand our relational circles, we bring the weight of this conditioning to romantic and platonic relationships alike; a subtle thought pattern of “what have you done for me lately”. This isn’t something others do and I don’t. We all live inside a self-focused animal and it takes practice to stay tuned-in to these thoughts so we can bypass the divisive ones as they appear.

Life is complex so it’s useful to have relational mental models, but these unexamined shorthands can create blind spots. Everyone is teeming with individuality which has joyful and heavy parts. Everyone has an evolving inner world. Being in relationship with another, especially those relationships with a deeper flavor of love, requires us to see the nuanced individual outside of our own expectations. A moment to moment curiosity and openness for them and us especially in difficult interactions. Defaulting to “I can’t believe they said/did that” is less helpful than trying to understand why is it they said/did that. It takes resilience and generosity of spirit to start thinking like this when we are also down in the dumps but it’s worthy exercise if we care for someone.

Love is not magic. It is a practice. A practice of putting aside ego, assumptions, and relational expectations. A commitment to offering judgment-free attention. Of not getting offended or injuring them with retaliation when something difficult inevitably appears. We can behave this way with another only when we behave this way with ourselves, because we will repeatedly fail in this practice; and when we do, we have to practice all of the above with ourselves.

In this way, love is a lifelong practice of creating a moment to moment awareness in tandem, of them and us. Our closest bonds are the best arenas for this practice for they carry our heaviest expectations.

For my Tim, for 17 years of practice.

“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; re-made all the time, made new.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

#50: The gears of attention

Over the last month, my attention has been diverted towards a talkative and high-energy addition to my household. As I adjust my routines and environment for my new cat, she seems to be on a mission to dismantle my concentration, sleep, and schedule. As a first time pet-friend, I didn’t realize how these early stages can present a new problem on a daily basis and as I solve my way through, I’ve been thinking about the role of attention in our lives.

The quality and makeup of our attention is often what determines the state of our mind, emotions, and actions. Over time, these everyday things color and define a life. Attention also determines our time-spent. Time-consumed. Time-felt. Time-lived. In this sense attention is really the essense of time. So, here are some musings around attention:

  • Can one be addicted to focus? I’ve figured out the routine that works with my rhythms and work demands. I find that writing is best done in the mornings, when I have access to my internal silence, and the business-related work requires deep and sustained focus to absorb and thread together new ideas. After trial and error, I arranged my life in a relatively effective schedule. The cat has made it clear that this precision is sometimes untenable. Ofcourse our rhythms crave structure but when circumstances toss that structure out the window, we’re better off responding and not reacting. Here is a sequential summary of my reaction: frantic problem solving, followed by frustration, then detonation; and finally curiosity, which made it easier to experiment (7 different wet foods, ~12 toys, 2 pet gates, 2 rugs, 3 different furniture-scratching repellants…I could go on). The point is that my concentration and focus can’t be dependent on library-level orchestration and I have to mold new structures and rituals that are more permeable. A small example: In the past, I would shut the office door to signal the start of my work day but the cat becomes overly needy and disruptive if I don’t leave it ajar for her to come and go as she pleases. My new ritual is to take a few breaths when I arrive at my desk. I also expect her unexpected arrival knowing that her interruptions are typically no longer than five-minutes. Part of cultivating presence is cultivating presence towards whatever comes up but it’s easier said than done. We create an illusion of control precisely because we don’t know what will come up. I read somewhere that “confidence is more bending, confidence doesn’t clutch control.” It rings true.
  • How can we intentionally switch attention? Mindfulness practices recommend that we put our minds where our hands are. Working parents are forced to do this–they switch gears towards work deliverables and have to keep the kids out of focus and then at home, they have to be present to whatever comes up, even when they are depleted. But their boundaries often need to be permeable, as we’ve seen even more clearly during the Covid-era. While caring for a pet is not the same as caring for a child, the desire to keep this creature safe and thriving, and the moments of disruption feel oddly similar. I’m going to actively apply the “put your mind where your hands are” philosophy as she settles in.
  • And most importantly…what deserves our attention? While this is a very personal question, when we get down to the fundamentals, anything that moves us towards more equanimity, love and connection deserves attention. Loving someone can be quite a growth oriented practice. We don’t control the object of our affection and their outcomes, we can’t always control how they impact us, yet we love them. That unconditionality of presence, the come what may. That is what giving attention to love teaches us. When we exchange love, care, affection and accompaniment with someone, we build their foundation and ours. Yes, even if that someone is a cat.

“Your task is to love what you don’t understand.”― Rainer Maria Rilke