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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.