Connected and invisible

These last days I thought about a particular state of mind that I may have partially described before (https://aghisladraws.wordpress.com/2017/11/20/on-disappearing-while-observing/ as a past version of this post), that is the state I feel most comfortable in – comfortable as in fully present-effective, not as cozily quiet.

This particular state of mind manifests itself when I’m able to pay attention to what I see best with my mind’s eyes. It’s the small changes in nature or in some person in flow busy with their task, and with a special joy, watching over someone taking a break. I blend in the surroundings (in the social meaning of it, as I don’t talk or move much, so not interacting means disappearing) and I become a sentinel, attentive and protective.

I first clearly felt and described it in a memorable sunrise back in my university years where we hid in the mountains to observe and count chamois (we ended up seeing none, but did see deer and wild boars). Our scientific success was dependent on our ability to be invisible to the animals around us. I enjoyed that so deeply! I was a pair of eyes and a logbook: I was nothing else. I have rarely felt self-fulfillment that intensely, the feeling of doing what I do best, and doing it very well.

I tried to explain that to my employers over the years, but mostly they thought I intended to be passive (which is the opposite of that state) or at least not ambitious (in the sense of ready to break old schemes). They managed to miss that it’s the necessary first step for me to become one with my task space and introduce manageable improvements. Starting to change things before even grasping their nature is at best a risky path (not because it never works; but when it works, it’s by chancey match and not by plan).

On a more personal level, I am often in this mindset with the people I can spend a lot of time with. I become good at spotting where their attention is, without them telling me, and make their work/actions easier. Some found it creepy, because they felt constantly monitored; others basked in the attention and enjoyed the assists. To rule out the creepy interpretation I have started to be clear upfront that I do it with a helpful intention and that I stop if that feels uncomfortable. This is when I act. When I don’t act, and neither does the other person, it’s the quietest mix of relaxation and reciprocal motionless attention.

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The radar – a way of paying attention to others and being focused on your task

I have been visiting a Montessori preschool this week, and had my usual joy in observing without participating. I appreciated how the two teachers had all twenty children in mind, and moved from one to another to attentively guide them in a given exercise, gave ideas for further work, paid attention to all children who asked for a moment of it; and the children were calm and mainly focused on their occupations, called the teachers only seldom and always got an answer – even a “I’m busy now, but I come to you when I am done”. I found that profoundly calming, and a wise economy of communication (and noise. It was a smallish room with 20+ people in it, no way that everyone can talk simultaneously and be heard. Think of how restaurants can become incredibly loud!). If children grow in this two-way attention, they know that each call gets a feedback, so there is no need to call ten times in order to hope to be heard once – or worse, to make sure that the other person hasn’t forgotten you are there (how many children I have seen crying or calling their parents repetitively, without any more hope to be heard, but attempting to get attention by being annoying).

I reflected on that point on my way home. Some time ago I wrote a note about the ways of paying attention to someone else in the background, and be responsive when this person actually starts interacting. I experienced how some friends switch between full attention to me to full focus on something else, and I always felt as a nuisance when I interrupted them with the start of a conversation. There was no concept of background for them, there was no chance to me to pick the good time to chime in.

On the other extreme the radar process could take too much of the foreground space: I could pay attention to everything and get distracted by every new input. I find this exhausting, and disrespectful for the current task, that must pray that nothing pops up while it is being dealt with.

The sweet spot could be hard to reach and it depends much on how the inputs behave (some would like to get attention immediately, others would prefer to never disturb…), but I have seen people doing that with such a mastery that I am totally confident it can be done by everyone, with a bit of practice. My drum teacher can keep an eye on me when we play in the orchestra, such that he invariably spots if I’m lost, and we can debrief the concert afterwards with great accuracy. I strive to reach that ability when I will finally become a kindergarten teacher. I have experienced how relaxing it is to be in someone’s radar and to know you can ask for a moment of attention, so I definitely aspire of being that attentive kind of person for the children.

Doe Pair – by Carl Monopoli

“Nature connection through deliberate attention and curiosity” – John Muir Law’s TEDx talk

I was introduced to John Muir Law‘s learning materials for natural illustrators by fellow participants of NHI101x, bought his book “Nature Drawing and Journaling”, enjoyed the bubbling stream of ideas and excellent illustrations (I’ll write a review as soon as I finish it, stay tuned!) and now I follow his blog, where he regularly posts drawing tutorials and other useful tips. Today I watched his TEDx talk about enhancing the quality of our observation of nature, by the means of simple and effective methods that unleash our curiosity on natural subjects. I find it a brilliant summary on the art of observation – a compact starter kit like very few others. Enjoy!

On managing focus in everyday life

I have been challenged to productively plan my own days since I left my last employee job. It has been hard at the beginning, because I had no experience in integrating sudden inspirations into a structured day program. I had also little conscious feedback about how much to structure the day: meals at fixed times? Timeboxes or do an activity until the planned result is achieved?

After quite a long test phase I settled for a simple planning system, based on a weekly cycle. At the beginning of each week I plan the 4 or 5 goals I want to reach. I pick these goals from a bucket list that I occasionally update. Every day I select maximum 3 activities I want to do and decide a rough outline of the day. I usually don’t put exact times, as I prefer to finish a given activity rather than switch when it is not yet done. If an activity is not completed or not done at all, I shift it to the next available day, or think of which problems are preventing me to complete it.

I find that this loose planning helps me focusing on each activity, because I know that I planned for it, I decided it was important; I can forget other activities and deadlines, because I am confident that each of them has been marked in the planning and will get a dedicated timeslot. It also gives me clear feedback on how productive my week was.

That made me think about the focus of attention of a rider in an obstacle course (it applies in other disciplines and riding moments, but the obstacle course makes it especially clear). The rider has the whole sequence of jumps in mind (that’s my guess!), but not in the immediate focus of attention. Approaching a jump, the focus narrows solely on that obstacle. Right after the obstacle, the attention turns to the next obstacle – and the body faces it too, as a physical message for the horse. Between jumps there are some moments where the focus of attention can embrace a wider part of the jumping course, but they are (should be) usually brief, because the next obstacle approaches fast.

ABS Horse – from MazetMan on Flickr — I like how rider and horse look straight to the obstacle, even if their bodies are in an unstable, dynamic equilibrium

My difficulty was in finding a good way of planning, that is efficient and not too demanding in terms of time and attention. I felt I was alternatively being the rider, the horse and the instructor. Sometimes I would have loved to be only the rider, or only the horse, but it was never an option (or at least not a good one). I found a lot of inspiration from friends and the wider Internet, who suggested me planning tools, tips and tricks – but the ultimate feedback came from myself. Quite a hard lesson for my obedient side, which prefers to take pride in completing an assigned task, rather than taking responsibility on choosing one task among many.