In the proceeding post of this series, I advocated for effort and seeing yours tasks and endeavors through to completion. However, there is always a point where doing becomes forced, and disadvantageous to either the work or to yourself.
Instead of trying to do everything to the point it becomes counterproductive, trust that what you need will arrange itself—either the next time you sit down to it, or that it will arise spontaneously when you’re focused on something else.
Non-forcing and having trust in the natural order of all things (Tao) that unfolds when you just get out of your own way is an underlying principle of the Taoist concept, wu wei.
Practice not doing, and everything will fall into place.
Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
In my opinion, the Western catchphrase, “Work smarter, not harder,” is rooted in similar logic—efficiency over exertion and stimulation.
And the way to carry out tasks efficiently, free of overexertion is through stillness—stillness of the mind and of the body.
Stillness is a pretty simple concept, but it is multi-faceted.
Its first application is in the sense of not identifying with thoughts or indulging impulses when they arise and the mind lungs for them, thus letting them fall away—the non-reactivity I spoke of earlier.
Wu wei is the second iteration. The term roughly translates as “doing, not-doing” or “effortless action,” being at peace within while exerting really intense effort towards something traditionally seen as stressful, i.e., being in the flow state.
You want to find your point of rest in the midst of any struggle.
Dr. Sam Harris
Many practitioners suggest wu wei or “being in the zone” is synonymous with the removal of subject and object consciousness—you aren’t focused on dancing, you are dancing.
This non-dual awareness – in which you aren’t aiming your mindfulness anywhere in particular, and are instead identical to the condition in which everything is appearing – is the final stage of mindfulness.
But I think in that state of being (or non-being), you can’t really function at the ultimate level. In the words of late Buddhist monk Thicht Nhat Hahn, “Mindfulness is always mindfulness of something,” meaning there should always be an object.
Utilizing mindfulness of the body is how I achieve the flow state when physically active (walking, dancing, skateboarding, etc.) and thus make these pastimes a kinetic meditation.
While wu wei is most commonly associated with physical strife, which we’ll revisit later, in the quote above Harris is also speaking to mentally-straining undertakings, like writing. In fact, muscular tension is almost always a byproduct of psychological distress, unless you’ve tirelessly worked your body to the point of utter exhaustion—if you can relax the mind, you’ll probably have a lot more endurance than you thought.
Thus, we can also deploy mind-in-body to still the mind and shift from a state of agitation to a restful one during intense mental effort or psychological discomfort.
The Tao Te Ching advises to “Stop thinking and end your problems,” but obviously, we can’t live every moment of our lives in mindful bliss, free of planning and thinking. In fact, as a writer, my livelihood depends on the latter. But I try to make it the type of thinking where I remove my conditioning from the equation in order to let my inherent creativity and imagination shine through.
Just with other forms of effort, the goal is to become mindful of the body and bypass the negative chatter in your head in favor of constructive, creative thoughts.
By not imposing you ego and instead opening yourself up to natural insight, you can allow non-linear abstract thought, drawing novel conclusions between seemingly non-related things and arriving at insights others may have overlooked.
Water acts in the same way as the mind. When water is disturbed, it is not transparent or reflective, as the waves and ripples obscure its essence. But when water is completely still, it is in its pure, true state of transparency and reflectivity. The nature of mind is stillness, which is beyond effort.
Jason Gregory, The Art of Living Effortlessly
And what better way to induce stillness of mind than by bringing the focus back to your internal world?
When returning to the body (and the parasympathetic state), all my agitation and tension disappear, and the organic movements and insight that arise when you stop imposing your will onto your reality can flow through unimpeded.
You can then become transparent and introspective, as described above. It’s the classic example of a writer who’s words flow effortlessly off the pen, as if channeling the divine.
But even when conducting yourself in this way, eventually exhaustion and tension will set in. When the mind becomes constricted, it’s time to move on to a different activity as I advised earlier, or at least take a break for self-observation.
The mind and the body can become clenched from this overworking (psychological or physical stress), but also from anxiety caused by acquired distortions on your nature—your hopes and fears (expectations, traumas, and insecurities).
Removing Your Conditioned Nature to Still the Mind
I try to remain aware of the body and breath in all undertakings that can cause anxiety, and as a byproduct, structural stress. Which, if you have layer upon layer of distortion on your nature, can include activities that aren’t traditionally thought of as mentally-draining—everything from Duolingo lessons, practicing piano, and cooking, to reading, listening, and even conversation.
Let’s use the example of meeting someone else’s gaze, and having the sudden realization you are the object of their mind. Abruptly becoming conscious of their stare is likely to send you into a barrage of mind and body reactions, starting with the central nervous system contracting.
Dr. Harris aptly compares central nervous system arousal to a fist tightening. He uses the analogy specifically in reference to moments of self-consciousness, though I think it applies just the same to grueling effort.
His suggestion to remedy this reaction is to return to a non-dual meditative state, where subject and object cease to exist, and you are part of the open condition in which everything appears.
It’s an experience of being much more comfortable in the presence of another person, whatever your relationship, because you’re not contracting. This is meditation that is totally compatible with having a conversation with somebody.
Sam Harris
Well, maybe I’m a more novice practitioner and can’t always bring myself into this state of awareness, but I don’t think we have to resort to that level—mere mind-in-body is also compatible with all experiences, and is enough to rid me of physical and mental blockages and self-consciousness (albeit, maybe temporarily).
Mindfulness of the body brings me back into the flow, regardless of what has pulled me out of it—becoming cognizant of when I’ve tensed up and easing that anxiety and tension, particularly the muscles of the face.
In all the above examples, relaxing the body allows me to return to total immersion in the experience with a listening, passive-yet-attentive mind free of any mental conditioning, improving my performance and retention for later recall.
And then when you notice yourself contracting, when you notice you’re not meditating anymore, you’re actually reacting. Like, they just said something or looked a certain way and now, you’re cast back upon yourself in relationship to them, that becomes a kind of mindfulness alarm.
Sam Harris
However, for the neophyte practitioner, and even sometimes myself, awakening to that alarm by recognizing yourself in or escalating to the stress response can be a challenge, in instances of self-consciousness or any other anxiety—that’s why a routine periodic mindfulness break can be highly advantageous.
Routine Self-Observation
Being on devices generally pulls me out of my body, but like many people these days, it’s a necessity for work life. Even if you’re staying on task and are able to fend off the onslaught of distractions that come your way, it’s easy to lose consciousness of the breath and the body (posture) when overexerting yourself, elevating from a restful state to one of stress and anxiety, in both the physical and mental senses.
As a DJ, I would often screen songs for potential use in a mix, listening to a few seconds of each before moving on to another. This process made for a lot of information being taken in in a short timeframe, and with very little contextualization.
This again gets at intuitive listening. Even though I could tell that so much sensory input in such a short time span agitated me, I continued down the list until my head spun and I could no longer recall the vibe or tempo of the majority of the tracks I had just listened to, two key considerations for creating continuity in a mix—working in this way defeated the point entirely.
And even if you aren’t undertaking some activity that requires intense effort, just the sheer amount of stimulation we’re subject to nowadays can quickly take you out of the present and create mental strain, which can ultimately lead to becoming lost in anxiety-inducing thoughts.
Let’s be honest: Just the sound of a text alert typically brings people from a state of mindful rest to one of excitement (though in this instance, you may be able to quickly recover).
Thich Nhat Hanh’s Plum Village Monastery in France is equipped with various temple bells that are sounded routinely as a reminder to return to the present moment. When the bell is sounded, no matter what they are doing, the monks stop their talking, their thinking, and bring the awareness back to the breath and the surrounding environment.
You can replicate this practice by setting an alarm with a bell tone on your phone that goes off periodically when working on an intensive project. Coincidentally (or maybe not), the renowned iPhone notification sound seems like it was intended to be a mindfulness bell—which should make it easy to serve as a reminder to come back to the present after the initial excitement that ding stirred in you.
Though there’s little else we can do about a lot of the daily occurrences that cause you to constrict, finding your point of rest becomes easier when you don’t willing make life arduous. I’m again alluding to mono-tasking and a structured schedule, but also allocating time between activities to reflect and decompress.
Easing Into (and Through) Your Day
My final application of stillness is in the sense of doing what you can to not rush about your day—taking things at my own pace is another method that keeps me from getting swept up by the external world.
I know that when I leap from one thing to the next – especially frantically in the morning after waking up at 5:20 when I have to leave the house by 6 – besides just being out of my body, I often feel like I’m subjecting my brain to information overload.
As soon as you recognize that state, try to bring yourself back to one of mindful rest, allowing yourself to relax and thus carry out all tasks more efficiently.
For me at least, this overstimulation is particularly true of screen time early in the day. Beyond the negative emotions that are characteristic of social media exposure, scrolling Instagram or even my Gmail first thing in the morning seems to break my centeredness and mental clarity, and prevents me from being able to recall the novel ideas I had been pondering during the night or first thing upon waking. I also find it tougher to recover from that overactivity at daybreak than later on—it seems to set the tone for the day.
Colored images and motion graphics are a tremendous amount of information for the brain to process (especially right out the gate), and the influx of new context it presents can quickly move you from a receptive, mindful state to one of agitation, replacing the creative thoughts you were just having with more mundane ones.
I’ve learned to follow my intuitive intelligence (listen to my gut) and not subject myself to such stimulation, with each additional time that I refrain serving as an additional small moral victory that adds to my momentum.
But with a world of escapism at your fingertips, it certainly takes willpower. My turning point came when I persistently reflected on my observations of how much better I felt and much more clarity I had when I didn’t succumb to the urge to death scroll.
Dr. Andrew Huberman touts the advantage of quicker engagement with a new task when allocating a transitional period in which you take in minimal sensory information (namely, staying off devices) between activities, but I feel the boon to memory consolidation and nervous system relaxation to be just as great of benefits.
I’ve really taken this practice to heart recently and begun to embody it. I’m talking “not even looking at my phone to check the weather when waking up” stringency.
Just like periodic self-observation during a span of sustained effort, I prefer to figuratively (and literally) digest things adequately in the parasympathetic (rest and digest) state before moving on—no matter if exercising, writing, reading, or eating.
Transitional time between a state of dreaming or rest to a state of activity – or even between activities, for that matter – allows me to more effectively take inventory and process what I took in.
I understand the appeal of binging, but in my experience, it’s usually coming from a place of escapism and non-restraint. When reading a novel, listening to a podcast, watching a show, ending a phone call with my parents, whatever, I have better understanding and retention of information when I reflect on it. And in the instance of books and television, more appreciation for them because of their sparsity.
I let myself sink to the level of distress I was at by failing to heed my intuitive intelligence—always craving and obliging another ____, or needing to stack something else on top of what I was doing.
Up next – Part VII: Restraint
Conscious Consumption 