Flow

Mikhail Nikolaevich Baryshnikov was probably the most graceful dancer to ever set foot on stage.

“Those who flow as life flows know they need no other force.” — Lao Tzu

When we hear the word flow we think of a kind of fluidity, one with power and grace, something that moves along so easily. It’s the kind of state of mind and body where things are in harmony and everything works. It’s both pleasurable in the present and enjoyably rewarding afterwards. Creatives and athletes alike often call it “being in the zone.”

In Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s brilliant book Flow, he discusses the power and beauty of being in such a state and how incredibly fulfilling it is to experience it. We’ve all been there at one time or another: we’re drawing/painting/animating and everything looks right and feels easy; we’re in the middle of the ball game and we feel like we can score at will; we’re working on a difficult task and yet the time flies by and we don’t notice any distractions nor do we feel hungry or tired; or, what normally feels fast and hurried slows down, and we can see/hear/taste with absolute clarity and precision as if we can control time and are at one with our environment. These are moments of being in flow. We all dream to achieve it and hope to fall into its chasm more often. We know it when we’re there and also when it ends.

“Attention shapes the self, and is in turn shaped by it.” — Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Flow

The question then becomes why does flow occur and whether it can be experienced more often. Csikszentmihalyi says that flow, like anything else, can be practiced and its enablement more likely and more frequent under the right conditions. The key, it appears, lies in what has been discussed here often — the idea of attention or what he calls “consciousness as intentionally ordered information.” In other words, flow arrives not merely out of luck or chance, but by a prevalence of certain conditions, the most important being a mindset of fully conscious awareness.

Contrary to the impression his paintings might give to the amateur eye, artist Jackson Pollock was a thoughtful and lucid individual who was deeply engaged in pure consciousness when he worked.

As suspected, like happiness, flow is not something to be found or discovered (although the sudden awareness of its arrival might bring us to such a conclusion), but rather it is earned. Ultimately flow requires, as we can guess, sincere effort and concentration. And to do so, we must be guardians of what and how we take in data (stimuli).

“An individual can experience only so much. Therefore, the information we allow into consciousness becomes extremely important; it is, in fact, what determines the content and quality of life” — Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Most of the time, we spend our energy wastefully or at least unintentionally. That is, we do so without mindfulness. And in such state, our actions possess little in the way of focus, coordination or connection with the immediate environment or even the object in hand. All too often we drift along half listening to someone as we glance at our phones or casually watch tv while cooking or eating our meals. As such, the attention and care we give to any activity is not only sporadic but also passive. In fact, it’s so passive that the time passes by without consciousness — an experience empty of meaning. The time spent loses all value. In the business or economic sense, this transaction, which costs labour and time, has produced a loss. In the scenario of watching TV during dinner, we neither fully enjoy the viewing nor the sensations that come with the cooking or consumption of our meal. Or, in the case of our smart phone obsessiveness, we’re in the presence of others, but are absent of any significant connection. The actions taken produce neither tangible experience worth remembering or a product worth consuming.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi “Flow” chart indicating the various states of mind-body as a result of varying combinations of challenge versus skill.

But when we align our concentration singularly, we at least put ourselves up to the challenge of attaining optimal experience. But to arrive at flow, a certain sufficiency of skill is required. Only then, when our challenges are met in alignment at or just above our current skill levels, can we accomplish that because as we rise to the level of our challenges — raising the level of complexity involved — we experience growth. The further beauty of this is that not only does it present the possibility of endless growth, but we can start from anywhere. We need not be a master or top flight professional to experience flow. We need only to place our desires in order (goals) and take action in a fully attentive manner.

“The shape and content of life depend on how attention has been used.” — Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

We can see now that sliding towards the side of insufficiency in terms of ability is a dangerous place to be. In any economic or social system, to be low-skilled raises the odds of anxiety, worry or apathy — all of which lead to deep unhappiness and, if left unalleviated for too long, psychological disorder. It is why, both in this blog, and in my actions as a teacher, I stress vehemently the importance of raising one’s abilities — skill is crucial. It’s not safe to be a weak-legged or lazy gazelle in the wild, nor is it a happy existence. When we have skill, we can exercise both effectiveness and efficiency.

Bruce Lee was the epitome of someone who created himself by first building an extremely high skillset through sheer focus, discipline, and will.

On the other hand, higher skill, when met only with tasks too easy, lead to boredom. Taking the safe and easy way out, results in this. And like in the wild, indifference and excessive comfort makes us weak, if not less than inspiring. One can see, from analyzing Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow chart, that it wouldn’t be hard to slide from control to boredom very easily. And, with time, skills deteriorate without practice and we fall into those other ugly categories — a likely scenario given society is constantly moving forward (given growing competition and growing populations). Things grow or die. Our aim, both as artists and humans, is to keep growing. This doesn’t necessarily mean advancements in wealth, status or even productivity, but rather it’s a matter of mind and presence that we keep learning to find purpose in our journey.

“I live in a landscape, which every single day of my life is enriching.” — Daniel Day-Lewis, Actor

Daniel Day-Lewis plays Daniel Plainfield, in one of the most stirring performances ever seen on screen. From P.T. Anderson’s Oscar-winning film There Will Be Blood.

What’s most important to realize in all this is that much of our happiness relies more on how we do something rather than what we do. As stated here often, our approach to our tasks at hands alters the mindset and experience. Csikszentmihalyi calls this having an autotelic character.

According to his book, Csikszentmihalyi describes that “the autotelic personality is an individual who generally does things for their own sake, in the “here and now” rather than for some later goal. In other words, their mindset is such that they don’t get involved with anything outside of the activity they’re doing and are measurably happy when they’re engaged in it. They are, in a sense, fully mindful, attentive, and yet personally detatched from any expectations or outcomes. They’re completely committed to the process and nothing else.

“Enjoyment is characterized by forward movement: by a sense of novelty, of accomplishment.” — Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Yes, some people seem to be in the right conditions more often (i.e. wealth and privilege to do what they want), or even have a predisposition, either genetically or from their social upbringing to be more likely to possess an autotelic trait. But for the most part, both Csikszentmihalyi and I believe, that developing an autotelic approach to life is not only possible but essential for raising the frequency for the enjoyment of life. In fact, studies have shown that those who benefit from extensive material possession and easy access often find only pleasure and not enjoyment which isn’t, even if it’s often mistaken for, the same thing. (To know the difference we only need to ask ourselves how memorable or fulfilling the experience is after the event is over.) In fact, privilege might even be an impediment to growth and learning because creativity and effort isn’t required.

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven” – Matthew 19:24, The New Testament

Martin Scorsese is perfectly cast as Vincent Van Gogh in Akira Kurasawa’s Dreams. We can easily imagine the artist so deeply focused and in a frenzy — with no time for distractions that would take him away from his painting.

I’ve always contended, especially to those who have studied under my tutelage, that if we can create joy from even the most mundane activities in the doing of our craft and even the many seemingly minor acts of our daily lives, then a sense of worthiness can arise from our efforts. Time and energy then, is no longer wasted. Each activity, or at least more activities more often, begin to have meaning. And as such, the game of life can become one that is very pleasurable to play.

“Flowing water never goes stale.” — Taoist proverb

Emptying the Cup

“The usefulness of a cup lies in its emptiness.” — Zen proverb

It’s more important than ever today to find rest. Not mere sleep — which is important for its restorative value to the body — but dedicated time set aside to unwind the mind, time apportioned for emptying the cup. Of course, the first thought to come to mind is the idea of meditation, especially the sit down kind practiced by Buddhists or other religious devotees. But I’m talking instead about activity or non-activity in the presence of nature, rather than any formal or religious practice to “achieve” peace or harmony. I know of no better place to find reprieve from anxious, constantly-reactive mental activity than to be amongst the wonders of nature.

After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love and so on — have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear — What remains? Nature remains; to bring out from their torpid recesses, the affinities of a man or woman with the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of the seasons — the sun by day, and the stars of heaven by night.” — Walt Whitman, Specimen Days

Film still from Frederick Back’s magnificent short film The Mighty River, a story about the history of the St. Lawrence River. Back’s gorgeous hand-painted animations with its message about preserving our environment has been a huge inspiration to many artists like myself.

Modern life is always so busily packed, always on, always adding, always accumulating such that our mind’s capacity becomes so completely filled that there’s literally no space left for anything else. Furthermore, studies have confirmed time and again, that we repeat most of the same thoughts (and its corresponding stresses) throughout most of the day. So not only is the mind full, it’s full of mostly junk (and why I have little tolerance for advertising or any other forms of propaganda). It’s little wonder why we struggle so mightily to change our patterns of undesirable behaviour even if we desperately desire to do so, as rehearsal solidifies old habits. We are, after all, what we repeatedly think and do.

In Zen, it’s taught that without emptying the mind periodically, there’s no room to cultivate — either a new idea or even a new experience — because when we’re full, we’ll interpret any foreign stimuli as merely a different form of the same old data. When we’re at our limits we can’t be bothered intellectually or emotionally to challenge our biases and expand our understanding. Nor will we have the biological energy to do so. This is very dangerous for anyone hoping to see the world with greater clarity, create or live life with freshness. It kills our ability to grow and activates the ugly descend towards ignorance, close-mindedness and indifference.

“The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference.” — Elie Wiesel, Writer & Nobel Laureate

The only remedy to this dilemma is letting go in the presence of nature. Giving way to the sights and sounds of our natural surroundings, to the smell and taste of the air, to feel the pressure of our bodies against the earth or the texture of a leaf in our hands opens us up. The process grounds us yet at the same time make us feel alive again by getting us out of our own heads. We begin to fall away from the illusion of ego and escape the dualistic and ever-more mechanical life that takes hold of most of us most of the time. And when we let go of our thoughts — allowing them to pass thru as they please without hanging on to them — we begin that meditative cleansing process Zen masters expound — the journey towards liberation. It doesn’t matter whether we sit down in a crossed-legged position or merely take part in the simple act of walking because healing processes need not be formal. Emptying one’s cup isn’t food, it’s medicine. To take the time to restore our mental and spiritual capacities is neither a luxury that can wait nor something we can ignore. We take it when we need it. And in times like now, we need it more than ever.

As it is, we are merely bolting our lives — gulping down undigested experiences as fast as we can stuff them in — because our awareness of our own existence is so superficial and narrow that nothing seems to us more boring than simple being.” — Alan Watts, The Book

The Lotus flower is often used as the symbol for the harmonious beauty and peace that arises from the practice of meditation.

As for myself, I, like many others with the capacity or experience to do so, have a regular sustained meditative practice — I do, in fact, sit down in Zazen, and spend a portion of my mornings (and sometimes evenings as well) entranced in the act of focused breathing. I usually do this outside so as to be with nature. I also don’t do it to be “better” or even to relax but rather because it is quieting. In doing this “non-activity” meditators like myself become “goal-less” and succumb to the present. Any other kind of approach or mindset would render the activity pointless and ineffective. The idea is to liberate the mind from its tight grasp on the noise that keeps the cup full. And that can’t be done by force but only by seemingly monotonous repetitious actions such as breathing. Again, this can be accomplished just sitting or walking slowly by a tree, the waterfront or anywhere natural, even a tiny garden. Meditation is a form of quiet, still attentiveness and NOT a formulaic path towards enlightenment or escape.

Indeed, to garden — even merely to be in a garden — is nothing less than a triumph of resistance against the merciless race of modern life, so compulsively focused on productivity at the cost of creativity, of lucidity, of sanity.” — Maria Popova, Brain Pickings

Mont Sainte-Victoire by Paul Cézanne. One of the fathers of modern art, Cézanne helped bridge the movement between impressionism and cubism using nature as his inspiration.

Nature is healing and refreshing. It’s awesome existence, be it rain or shine, has the power to arrest you whenever you’re in its presence (outside) no matter what might be on your mind at the time. It’s why a beautiful day must be claimed. Just the mere acting of walking along a grassy patch does wonders; the fresh crisp air rushing into the lungs while the alternating waves of shifting grass titillate the eyes reminding us how fantastic it is to notice such things as when we were young, when we were still looking and truly experiencing things with a sense of wonder. It reminds us of the transience of things. It evokes humility and gratitude.

We are constantly being shaped by seemingly irrelevant stimuli, subliminal information, and internal forces we don’t know a thing about.” — Robert Sapolsky, Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst

So, when we feel mentally overwhelmed or fatigued, we know it’s a call to set aside time to cleanse our minds. Quiet, solitary, restorative moments close to a real natural environment heals and brings back balance. Without a clear mind, art can not emerge with clarity and neither can life.

“Art is a harmony parallel with nature. — Paul Cézanne, Painter