Two months ago I returned home from an extended stay outside of the US. I was eager to go back to my routine but as the days passed I noticed time felt a little blurry and it was difficult for me to focus. While it could be due to life difficulties, instead of finding obscure answers to these feelings I decided to modify external factors to try to change the way I perceived my day.
My first experiment was to have a jug of water and a snack in my desk so I could work a couple extra hours before lunch: My basic needs were covered and I reduced the reasons to get off my desk. I worked like this for a week, and while I did not get as distracted as before, I still had to make an effort to focus.
After a week of observation I noticed that the music I listened to before work determined the music I listened to while working, and the music I listened set the mood for whatever I was doing: Chaotic music led to a blurry chaotic day, and calm music led to calm day. It seems pretty obvious, but I had never contemplated the way music affects me. When I need deep concentration music becomes the driving force behind my thoughts, it influences the solutions I take, the problems I want to work on and even my tolerance for certain tasks.
I listened to Jazz for a week straight. The first days went well but after I got familiar with the playlist my days began to feel blurry once again. Since I was not able to work efficiently I tried the exact opposite: I stayed in silence for a week.
Silence was heavy at the beginning. I can compare it to the sensation of swimming in the ocean, well below the surface, and suddenly feeling your body asking for oxygen: I was so used to music all day every day that when I stopped my mind went through some sort of withdrawal. I desperately craved a tune to distract me, anything that could get me through the uneasiness. I didn't give in and after half an hour of feeling uncomfortable I found the peace I was looking for all along.
Once there was no music to follow I could finally listen to my thoughts. My mind rambled about a million things unrelated to what I was working on, so I directed my focus to what was physically in front of me. This sounds very obvious, but in practice it is not. Letting go of your worries doesn't feel natural since we are encouraged to be working, receptive, constantly "turned on" to whatever.
I started to pay close attention to all my thoughts. Having to sort through them, organize them, discard the ones that didn't make sense became a full time job; some of these I could simply forget, others refused to leave and I wrote them down to revisit later. The few that persisted were the ones that needed my immediate attention, usually no more than three: My day finally became manageable and it stopped feeling like a blur.
I found joy in the things I worked on but my craving for music never really left. The benefit of silence is that it gave me room to deeply understand my moods and figure out what kind of music I actually wanted to hear: Some days I needed the apparent chaos of Jazz, others I needed the heaviness of Joy Division, and on other days I craved the self assuring lyrics of Prayers. I used lunch time to consciously listen to music with the same anticipation I felt when I bought my first CD and heard it on repeat: It felt like a treat! Just as good as ice cream.
I am glad I was able to redefine my relationship to music and silence: Music boosts my mood and enhances my life experiences. Silence has become an ally that allows my mind to drift for a while and understand what really worries me, what I need to let go, and what needs my immediate attention. It stopped feeling intimidating and is now a very welcome friend.
It takes discipline, but making conscious time for both silence and music is part of what's allowing me to be fully present in life.
My first experiment was to have a jug of water and a snack in my desk so I could work a couple extra hours before lunch: My basic needs were covered and I reduced the reasons to get off my desk. I worked like this for a week, and while I did not get as distracted as before, I still had to make an effort to focus.
After a week of observation I noticed that the music I listened to before work determined the music I listened to while working, and the music I listened set the mood for whatever I was doing: Chaotic music led to a blurry chaotic day, and calm music led to calm day. It seems pretty obvious, but I had never contemplated the way music affects me. When I need deep concentration music becomes the driving force behind my thoughts, it influences the solutions I take, the problems I want to work on and even my tolerance for certain tasks.
I listened to Jazz for a week straight. The first days went well but after I got familiar with the playlist my days began to feel blurry once again. Since I was not able to work efficiently I tried the exact opposite: I stayed in silence for a week.
Silence was heavy at the beginning. I can compare it to the sensation of swimming in the ocean, well below the surface, and suddenly feeling your body asking for oxygen: I was so used to music all day every day that when I stopped my mind went through some sort of withdrawal. I desperately craved a tune to distract me, anything that could get me through the uneasiness. I didn't give in and after half an hour of feeling uncomfortable I found the peace I was looking for all along.
Once there was no music to follow I could finally listen to my thoughts. My mind rambled about a million things unrelated to what I was working on, so I directed my focus to what was physically in front of me. This sounds very obvious, but in practice it is not. Letting go of your worries doesn't feel natural since we are encouraged to be working, receptive, constantly "turned on" to whatever.
I started to pay close attention to all my thoughts. Having to sort through them, organize them, discard the ones that didn't make sense became a full time job; some of these I could simply forget, others refused to leave and I wrote them down to revisit later. The few that persisted were the ones that needed my immediate attention, usually no more than three: My day finally became manageable and it stopped feeling like a blur.
I found joy in the things I worked on but my craving for music never really left. The benefit of silence is that it gave me room to deeply understand my moods and figure out what kind of music I actually wanted to hear: Some days I needed the apparent chaos of Jazz, others I needed the heaviness of Joy Division, and on other days I craved the self assuring lyrics of Prayers. I used lunch time to consciously listen to music with the same anticipation I felt when I bought my first CD and heard it on repeat: It felt like a treat! Just as good as ice cream.
I am glad I was able to redefine my relationship to music and silence: Music boosts my mood and enhances my life experiences. Silence has become an ally that allows my mind to drift for a while and understand what really worries me, what I need to let go, and what needs my immediate attention. It stopped feeling intimidating and is now a very welcome friend.
It takes discipline, but making conscious time for both silence and music is part of what's allowing me to be fully present in life.
Alan