Thursday, March 31, 2016

Spring fancy free

Blossoms, baseball, and warm sun all signal that spring is here. It is time to be in the world.

I'll post again soon, but for now, here's a William Blake quote I've been turning over in my head and my heart.



He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise

(Wikisource)

(Thanks to Nathan Schneider, who mentioned this passage in his On Being interview with Krista Tippett.)


Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Mindful busyness

I've read two good books this month: Mindful Tech: How to Bring Balance to Our Digital Lives by David M. Levy and The One Who Is Not Busy: Connecting with Work in a Deeply Satisfying Way by Darlene Cohen.

On the surface of things, I live a simplified, streamlined life. But when it comes to mental clutter, I have plenty. Yes, I take refuge in the idea that creative people have messy minds, but I also know that mess creates stress. So I'm open to ideas, tools, and practices that can help me declutter my brain and work style as successfully as I've decluttered my life. Mindful Tech has already helped me.

Levy has spent a career in the information sciences, but he also has studied calligraphy and bookbinding. Since 2001, he's been a professor at the University of Washington's Information School, where, as he writes on the UW website, "I have mainly been investigating the challenge of achieving contemplative balance–how as individuals and as a society we might live healthy, reflective, and productive (lives) while participating in an accelerating, information-saturated culture."

In other words, Levy doesn't advocate that we unplug from our devices. He suggests that we pay more attention to how we are when we're online: whether the sight of a full email inbox makes us hyperventilate, whether we get into a pleasant state of flow or an anxious fear of missing out when we surf around social media, whether our muscles tense when an alert tone sounds on our phone, whether I ignore the bell that nudges me to stand up, stretch, and breathe.

The passage of the book that spoke most deeply to me is one in which Levy quotes a trio of psychologists (Zindel Segal, Mark Williams, and John Teasdale) on a shift from "doing mode" to "being mode."

Here's the difference: Being mode "is characterized by a sense of freedom, freshness, and unfolding of experience in new ways. It is responsive to the richness and complexity of the unique patterns that each moment presents." In doing mode, on the other hand, "the multidimensional nature of experience is reduced primarily to a unidimensional analysis of its standing in relation to a goal state."

Bingo! As a journalist, I've been dwelling in doing mode for my entire professional life. Deadlines are the "goal state," and I'm comfortable there, when I need to be. However, when I add ceaseless heaps of administrative work to the mix, it's really hard to be in "being mode" for any length of time.

That's why a mention of Darlene Cohen's book in Levy's work was intriguing to me. The One Who Is Not Busy seems less a title than a mirage. Is such a state really possible to achieve in today's work world? Indeed, Cohen -- who passed away in 2011 -- published this book in 2004: pre-Great Recession, pre-widespread disruption, pre-Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, etc. A dozen years later, companies are expecting ever more of their employees, and we're more distracted than ever.

In a chapter titled "Living Seamlessly," Cohen plays a similar chord to the one that most struck me in Mindful Tech. If we can give each activity our full attention, she writes, life becomes more than ticking off tasks on a list. Usually, she adds, we're preoccupied with the goal, "the 'why' of our activity. If we can soften the exclusively goal-specific focus that we usually bring to our work concerns and start to pay attention not just to what furthers our goals but to everything inside us and around us, we have vastly enlarged our own playing field." And I sense that play really is an operative word here. Many of us take our work far too seriously.

Cohen offers a menu of complicated exercises that would probably work better via an audiobook (and I plan to record a few as voice memos to give them a try), yet her advice essentially boils down to "one thing at a time" and staying in the present moment. We may be super busy, but she says that if we can practice two core skills -- 1) the ability to narrow or widen the mind's focus at will and 2) the ability to shift focus from one thing to another (from "narrow" to "narrow" to "narrow"), we can improve the quality of our work lives, no matter how manic or mundane they may be.

Levy's aim is more straightforward: to help readers pay attention and be more intentional about our tech use. Since his book is brand new, he's more mindful of the increased demands on our time and mental bandwidth.

Paying attention and being more intentional are things we can all do. Even those tasks are huge and take practice, but the alternative is sleepwalking through life.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Successful failure

Today's #UULent word is failure. A joke about UUs is that we read ahead in the hymnal to make sure we agree with the words we're about to sing. Well, I've been reading ahead on the list of words we've been asked to ponder, and today's is one I'd rather skip. (Especially coming a mere five days after mistakes last Friday. But we learn from our mistakes. Failure seems less noble, somehow. And isn't this a blog about joy?)

Still, I know it's spiritually useful to face the things we'd rather ignore. So this morning, as I consider failure, I'm thinking about two things: baseball and politics. Spring training opened yesterday, and my team won 7-0. Exciting! Success! Being an 18th-century Brit, Alexander Pope surely didn't have baseball in mind when he penned the phrase "hope springs eternal," yet it's perfect for a pastime that makes its annual debut in sync with this sublime season of newness.

I know that my team will lose 80 games or so this year. Everyone wants to win the World Series, but honestly, finishing over .500 is a more attainable goal. Along the way, the best hitters will succeed only a third of the time, and the best pitchers will lose at least a handful of games. But it's OK. Even the worst team in baseball will delight its fans 60 times or so before the boys of summer head home this fall. In sports, even amid failure, there's plenty of success. (Take it from Michael Jordan.)

Ten years ago, I was working as one of the nation's first paid Congressional campaign bloggers. On Election Night 2006, my candidate lost, as Democrats almost always do in Idaho -- but we had fun along the way, as this button attests. (I also remember walking in many small-town parades that summer as part of the Grant for Congress Clean-Up Crew, with our mops and brooms.)

From the candidate on down, we were a team of talented amateurs who'd suddenly turned pro. We really didn't know how to play the game, so we made a lot of mistakes. Yet on Election Night, we came within 5 percent of winning (in a district where the Dem is routinely beaten by 20 percent or more), and we helped pave the way for another, better-funded candidate with more Machiavellian management to win the next cycle.

I worked in politics for another six years, and it usually wasn't so fun. I experienced moral failure even amid victory, and many failures of imagination. I got out of the political game for good three years ago, blessed with an opportunity to return to journalism, and I won't be going back because I know that (for me, anyway), it is not soulful work.

Today, as I think about failure, I'm also thinking about a podcast I heard a few months ago with Elizabeth Gilbert and Brene Brown in which they tackled the topic at length. Brown mentions how her question used to be "What would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?" but it had evolved to "What's worth doing even if I fail?" Gilbert agrees and says we ought to let go of the idea of "it worked or it didn't work; it was a success or it wasn't a success." Of the creative life -- which of course is all of life -- Gilbert also suggests that it's better to be a trickster than a martyr. (That's another post ... or five.)

I know this baseball season will be a success because we'll all have fun along the way. I feel the same way about my return to independent writing.

My life has been a lot more joyful when I've been a trickster -- and when I've understood and embraced the concept of successful failure -- than when I've taken things way too damn seriously. I wish the same for you.