Sabbatical #3 It's An Outside Job
Three Moves I'm Making, What are Yours?
My daughters always side-eye stuffed bags in our mud room and ask me: “What are you giving away now?” They sift through to make sure I haven’t decided to donate a stack of t-shirts or toy they haven’t played with in years. I’m a devoted minimalist, always have been—de-cluttering, simplifying, creating systems. It feels good and hearty to make space for new insight in this way. I don’t enjoy having excess stuff around and I know that proclivity is linked to both my privilege of getting to choose and having enough already. As a teenager, I made a vow that every object in my adult home would have a story behind it; otherwise, it wasn’t welcome.
Why does this matter?
Because I want to name my bias. I come to this topic below with a hard lean on rhythm and the importance of clearing “the field” (not only physically) in order to listen.
Life is an inside job, right? Many of us have been schooled, by parents, teachers, any religious or spiritual beliefs, education and lived-experience to believe so. Only you have the keys to you. Heal and feel from the inside out. Lasting change begins internally. Agreed!
However, I’m going to Yes/And all over this newsletter today.
My question this last decade and made more concrete during my sabbatical (which I now realize was so so short compared to how the rest of the world takes breaks!) was “How Can I Reclaim My Attention?” It has become increasingly clear to me that attention will not come back to me by working the internal landscape alone. Maybe in centuries past but NOT ANYMORE. I don’t imagine life was easier back then. I don’t glorify it. In many ways, it was probably much harder. But we know that it absolutely was not this fast and furious. The modern mammal is contending with a very different reality. There is too much coming at us.
It’s an Outside Job now.
You can’t hear any nuance, tone, or insight from within if the noise outside is cranked to full volume. Do we actually think a 15-minute morning meditation is going to open up the spiritual airwaves for us if the rest of our day is spent scrolling on screens and ping-ponging from task to task, flitting like hummingbirds here and there with so little grounding? Do we think therapy is going to help if we’re moving at breakneck speed just to do life? I mean, maybe—a little bit, there will be traction, but will it last? Can we hear the guidance beyond us if our listening ears aren’t tuned anymore? We’ve been collectively swimming in this new water where most people feel like shit and exist in chronic overwhelm and we call that normal. We are beginning, slowly, to sense it’s a problem but only from the margins. [I want to separate that state from the state of grief about the state of the world. Feeling deep grief is wise and important. I’m talking here about everyday bleh and zingy pace.] We aren’t willing to give up the way things are because it’s the way things are and it’s familiar and maybe we even have an attachment to it, or an addiction. It’s not our fault—at all—but it is our responsibility. .
I know that’s harsh.
You might not like it. You might not like me for saying it. I get that.
But I’m invested in your attention.
It matters.
For your future and our collective future. You’ve seen all those sci-fi movies about the brain-washed society of people who have no idea what is happening to them because they aren’t paying attention. Just saying.
Calling our attention back requires a detox. Not comfortable. Unbearable for some. For me too! Consequences everywhere. Extinction bursts galore! Not simple. Like assessing a yellowed garden of weeds and starting to yank at the overgrowth. It’s hot. You’re sweaty. You’d rather sit in the shade and drink lemonade.
HOW THEN?!
We are social animals. Gather some of your people and build a culture around calling back your attention. What can you change on the outside? What are three small, do-able, track-able ways you can make a shift in the name your attention? Choose them. Then use the amplification power of a friend group to share. Text each other when you notice that you have called back your attention. Celebrate it.
What things?
It helps me to work with concentric circles. Start small. The big systemic issues have everyone pinned to varying degrees. Those changes take time and involve way more than you. Maybe you can’t shift your job or get adequate childcare or walk into a room without feeling othered or unsafe. Right now, go to the smallest and closest circle. What choices can you make there?
Be gentle. You are re-training your brain. It’s deep work. I just now had to do it now. I heard a text come in from a friend while I was writing to you all and I looked and then lost my train of thought and had to legit pause for 5 minutes to remember both the thing I need to attend to for her and what I wanted to say next here. The sticky part is telling my brain to wait. Wait, please wait to look elsewhere. Stay here.
This reclaiming isn’t selfish. It’s your gift beyond yourself—to everyone around you and those you haven’t even met, to future generations. I could be wrong but right now I don’t think so.
My Three Current Moves (to reclaim my attention)
Voice-Texts. I almost exclusively voice-text people now because it literally frees my eyes and my thumbs while also engaging the social ventral-vagal part of my nervous system. When I reach out to a friend with a voice-text (need a better word for this, ideas?), I can glance around and participate in my tactile and sensory environment while speaking aloud to a beloved as if we are in a conversation. We aren’t in physical presence but the felt-sense is more human. My attention is solely with that person and whatever I’m communicating from my own space as a body in a place, as opposed to seeing other texts come in and emails bounce around. I love it and have converted so many friends. It’s a robust dopamine hit that mimics what is more natural to us—walking into a space, lighting up at the sight of a friend and hearing and sharing the tones, textures and lilts of the voice. I call this Free My Eyes and Open My Heart. Truly, it does that.
Long-Distance Walking. Yep. That came in loud and clear on my sabbatical existential waterfall to the face on the first day (read here). Before having children, Chris and I would often walk 26-miles in the mountains in one day. Nothing but a jacket, water, sandwich and our feet. It was glorious and not all that strenuous. Just long. I live in a town where people who aren’t professional athletes train to that level; a casual run might be 15 miles. That detail matters because context matters. Walking is not sexy here, or anywhere, but I DO NOT CARE! I love walking. I love the simplicity of it, the bi-lateral benefits of it, the human mammal innate movement of it—and that it takes time. I can’t squeeze it into my “schedule”; I have to build my life around it. I have an idea that maybe I can retrain my pelvic floor and breath and general well-being through walking. Putting six 2-hour walks per week into my calendar initially brought some tension. Really? Can I do that? Yes, I absolutely can. I have to remind myself that everyday because I’m un-doing conditioning around what is allowed or not allowed. I used to say to a mentor, “Do I get to have that? Is it okay for me to have that, especially if not everyone gets to have it?” about everything: love, space for myself, time to tend, etc. I still struggle with those questions but now I am experiencing that joy of deciding what flavor of walk it will be: a commune with trees walk, an orate-my-newsletter walk, a talk with a friend walk, a meditation walk, a brain-heart storm walk, a fast walk, a slow walk? Walk, walk, walk. I’m also wanting to move my body while I work. This helps for many parts of my work. I realize that not everyone can take their work for a walk.
No Books or Media. What?!!! Hang with me for a second. Not forever! For spells. I didn’t bring any books or podcasts on my sabbatical. It shocked me, even. What unfolded? So much boredom in moments that led to touching moments of simply watching and being. We played lots of cards. We laughed. We listened to the rain and the howler monkeys. I wasn’t “filling my time” with anything other than what and who was in front of me. At home, I’m applying this so far at night. I’ve never watched shows at night, except the time I binge watched Sex Education until 3am a few nights in a row. I know that shows are a way people unwind these days so I’m not knocking them—or books, obviously. No books in bed for me now, in part because I’m creating a very intentional sleeping space. I like to repeat, “My bed is only for sleeping and sexing” which makes my husband laugh. I do know that sexing isn’t an actual word. This move is a larger self-reckoning for me. There is SO MUCH excellent media out there. The artist in me wants to consume and learn from it. I want to keep my finger on the pulse. But the body I am cannot take it all in; and I’m now at a place where anyone “building the capacity” to absorb it all in seems ludicrous. I’m also trying to notice where/when I reach for media or books when I’m uncomfortable with a sensation or feeling. Hmmmmm.
In the jungle (on sabbatical), I heard the vines, waterfalls, leaves, ants and green density saying that healing can be epically slow and it can be fast. Maybe in the calling back of our attention in small ways, we can heal this collective zombie-life wound fast. Remember when the ozone started to change and animals re-populated cities during the pandemic?That was wild and actually so fast.
If you are moved to share your 1-3 moves to call back your attention, please do! I would love to read them and respond. That kind of exchange is what circulates ideas and possibilities. It’s how we grow together.
Experimenting always,
My current move is helping to host "media social" nights with friends every few weeks. Technically these events oppose the non-consumption initiative you touch on, but hear me out! We gather in person to share our art - the films, essays, poems, paintings, and sculptures we might usually post on social media - and instead of holding our breath for the dopamine hit of likes and comments, we get to experience responses on the spot. We give praise and ask questions. We share what the piece makes us think about. If invited, we offer suggestions for expansion. It's analog social media, but slower, deeper. Similar to your enjoyment of voice messaging, I love experiencing my friends physically embody their work and their genius. The in-person format allows each artist to fill up the whole room--a whole network of nervous systems. It's a really beautiful thing to witness, and I come away from these evenings with a full cup, absolutely rearing to create. I hope creators and makers everywhere get to experience something like it <3
Two of my closest friends and I have decided to forgo texting each other. If we want to talk to each other, we call! Yesterday marked 2 weeks of this experiment and we all feel such joy in this arrangement - spontaneous 3 way calls, quick calls to say share something small. Talking in real time feels so much less distracting than reading a text. We were reflecting that, if we can't talk, we just don't answer the phone and this means we don't carry the sense of urgency or incompleteness that comes from reading a text and trying to remember to reply at some point. There's a spaciousness in not receiving information until we can talk about it.
Another way I've been reclaiming my attention is to focus on my breath or the feeling of my body while I'm in in-between moments - walking to work, driving, waiting for students to arrive to my classes, etc. In those in-between moments I have a habit of turning to my phone or ruminating on life's building to-do list. Last week, I practiced just being present in those moments, giving my mind some breathing room. I noticed how much holding I was doing - a feeling of tightness. Noticing that let me relax and soften.