Multi--tasking and mindfulness

It seems clear that women are better at multi-tasking than men. Whether that's because they have to be, or whether that's a good thing for any of us, is a different matter.

This woman seems quite cheerful about it all, though her little spud may be just about to delete a morning's work....Three people close to my heart have to do a lot of this sort of thing these days.

One thing is pretty definite; mental multi-tasking is not what you want in meditation, nor, says Larry Rosenberg*, in life.

"People sometimes ask "how can I get anything done if I do only one thing at a time?" Actually, we can be more effective. There is better attention and less tension when we do just one thing, and these factors more than balance the time that is saved by doing several things at once."

 I think he's not necessarily right in the short term - we're social animals, and sometimes our social (work) environment demands multi-tasking, but I'm sure we should avoid it when we can. I'm also sure he's absolutely right in the long term, because multi-tasking is a strain. It wears you out.

What he does urge us to do is to be pliable as well as steady in our attention. 

If a child runs into the room with a nasty cut and you're just filling the teapot with boiling water, it's multi-tasking time - no good saying "I just need to be mindful of the moment, and I'm making tea. Be with you in five." 

But even in this sort of instance, it's down to the quality of attention we bring to what we're doing. In fact, crises, even mini-crises like this one, often result in our being very firmly and clearly in the moment. But multi-tasking when you don't really need to, out of habit?

TS Eliot nailed it: "distracted from distraction by distraction."

Sounds to me like a definition of much of what's on Facebook....



* "Breath By Breath," Larry Rosenberg with David Guy.

A Mindful Bear and a Rocker

Bit of a jump from Wilko Johnson (my previous post) to Winnie the Pooh - but maybe not as big as it seems.

Hat-tip to Karen for reminding me of a couple of gems from the bear/unwitting philosopher:

"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known."

"I used to believe in "forever," but "forever" is too good to be true."

"Don't underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

Side-stepping the whole Pooh industry and its Disneyfication, here is a mindful view of the world, I think. A mindful moment on the bridge, an acceptance of the transitory nature of all things, an emphasis on the here and now in order to avoid the tyranny of The Next Thing...this Bear has more Brain than he realises, or rather, simply more insight into the flow of life.

And Wilko, facing a life-shortening illness, tells us how precious every moment is. After he was diagnosed and given a prognosis:

"And now, suddenly, nothing mattered...and I realised: you are alive and you are existing in the moment. You're not worried about the tax return. And it's a bloody good feeling, being alive. Sometimes this feeling is almost ecstatic, and I can say that I haven't plunged into despair at all."

(from the Guardian's  interview with Wilko, published last Saturday, here: 

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2013/feb/02/wilko-johnson-interview?INTCMP=SRCH

I salute the bear and the rocker, with thanks for their insights. I hope that, as he watches Orion and looks for Saturn through his rooftop telescope, Wilko enters the state of being which he knows everything there is to be known. I think we all do, if we give it a chance.

(It must, however, be said that Pooh was a pretty useless guitar player, whereas Wilko's the business!)

Mindfulness and "ordinary" life

Meditating every day for a certain length of time can be difficult if your regular routine is disrupted, for good or less good reasons. Recently I left Mundi Mansions with the Long-Suffering One for a short break, which we filled with lots of visiting. "Hold everything for 45 minutes please whilst I meditate" is still possible, I guess, but not an appealing offer.

So I thought I'd use the holiday time to work on the border between structured meditation and "ordinary" life. (Ain't no such thing - perhaps "usual life" would be better.)

Throughout the Isles of Britain people are exclaiming delightedly about the autumn colours this year, and the length of time it is all lingering. So an autumn stroll was obviously a prime time to let go, look at these leaves here and now, and simply be, in silence except for shuffling feet. Even for three minutes, it felt good. And even I can shut up for three minutes without anyone starting the search for a pulse.

The almost flat, grey, empty North Seascape was also ideal. An early morning stroll whilst the LSO got ready for the day was a good opportunity to take five just watching the horizon. I think the knack of it is not to contemplate the beauty, but just to be in it, and do the usual focusing on the breath, feeling the ground against the feet, moving the thoughts to any sounds as they occur, returning the attention to the present - all as usual, but a different here and now, especially a beautiful one, seems to help. And it was followed by a particularly good breakfast.

Who likes slow traffic, who likes driving long distances on our motorways? I found just a minute or two on a motorway services bridge surprisingly useful for a short burst of the old here and nowness. And it was surprisingly beautiful, too. The knack seemed to be - to let it be itself, and to let me be a part of it. Not a generic scene "typical M6, busy evening" but this in front of me, now. Of course, watching steady traffic is hypnotic; that sort of hypnotic (I don't mean Arkayeff's hypnotic!) can work against being in the present, but for a couple of minutes, it was fine. A different sort of refreshment from the thing I'd just about managed to eat at the other end of the bridge...

These short moments, these pauses and stillnesses, don't work for me in the same way or at the same depth as a lengthy, structured meditation does, but they are invaluable. 

"What time does the meditation class begin?"
"It's always happening."

Now that's a state of being,  worth not striving for but simply becoming. One day. Even on the M6.