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October 22, 2010
Gather a group of friends in front of a table where the aroma of food is sumptuous. Play an old song in the background. Crack some jokes while you reminisce about the past or dream about the future. Discuss light travails and laugh at the comedy of human error. No one will ever feel that the sun has gone. No one will realize that the darkness of midnight has long taken over.
The first day of an anticipated dream job pumps the heart with excitement. Adrenalin flows through our veins with a heightened awareness to perform beyond expectation. So focused on the goals of excellence, the wall clock paced faster without a single sight from our eyes. No breaks. No coffee. No smokes. Suddenly, it was time to go. We can’t wait for a new cycle to begin.
We know that the peak of the hill is more than a mile away. When we get to the peak, we have been told that we could view the mesmerizing beauty of a lake surrounded by mountains. The peak itself will allow us to see the dale which would lead us to the lake.
Bush bristles and thorns flood our path towards the peak. Sweat drops fall yet we do not feel our calf muscle strain. We do not notice the sharp rocks stabbing our feet through our soles. We do not feel the scorching heat of the sun. All we wanted was to reach the peak. Up there, when we get there, we will know how to get to the lake. We will see the promised sight so many have told us.
When our skills and expectations are fully involved to overcome any challenge, when the task at hand is the task of our dreams, when the people around us are those whom we want to be near and close to us, when we experience a certain thrill like an intoxicated scenario, then we could have lived an optimal experience, the phase of an act that gives us joy.
These three are just some of the distinguishing marks that describe “flow”, an experience of full immersion, the optimal passage between time and action at the hem of happiness. Surely, in one way or another, we have experienced something similar, even if it were a deep slumber. At that time, we did try to extend the perceived bliss only to wake up to the thought that flow in life stops abruptly, that good things on earth are not eternal, that optimal experience wanes with our vigilance.
It is said that through this optimal experience of gliding past our hurdles, we overcome the obstacles before us, and attain the end that we so desire. Nonetheless, the theory behind the flow besides the experimental patterns observed in the University of Chicago by its main proponent, Mihaly Csikszentmihaly, is actually an intrinsic sense of the eternal through a momentary oblivion of time. It is when we forget the temporal sequence of seconds passing through our labored tasks and monotonous moments that we seem to delve in the maximum use of time. Indeed, this theory is like a counterpoint of human comprehension. How can we forget time when all our lives are obstinately immersed in time? We need to know the time for our meals. We need to know the time to work. We need to know the time to clean up ourselves.
Then it follows that it is not in the forgetfulness of time that flow takes place. Rather, it is in the undivided attention we emit to the object of our experience. Flow correlates to focus. When we pay attention to the flickering light amidst the blinding rays of radiation, when we set our hearts to the end of the road, when we commit ourselves to act upon a decision, we actually lose track of an entire calendar, sometimes even wanting to skip weeks, just so we could reach the end.
Optimal experience is the ideal thought each of us would not reject. As flow is attached to focus, focus is correlated to awareness. The more we increase our attention towards a specialized field of thought, the more that thought strives to be efficient. And the more an action seeks to emerge from that thought.
Almost every day, we have to rake our yard and collect the withered leaves, dump them in a huge paper bag, and then repeat the same cycle the next day. Since this task is not one of my favorite items on the list, I find the process arduous and tiring. Yet, for my son and for my wife, who seem to have fun piling leaves in a paper bag, their energy is incessant, filling one bag after another, until the grass is free from the crumbling pieces of old foliage.
Graduate students whine and wimp over papers. They hire people like me who find exquisite joy with jargon, technical expressions, convoluted explanations, and rhetoric vocabulary. I get lost in writing, almost in whatever comes to my mind. Doing things for others provide me with a structure to forge sticks and specks of research into a palatable presentation.
What is your flow? How do you attain it? When do you feel it? Mine is when I look at the skies and see the smooth laces of clouds hovered on top of each other, like cottons sprawled across the blue space. Mine is when I walk through the edges of a lake as I try to capture the sound of fluttering wings from geese that dive on the surface of a chilly water. Mine is when I try to envision the true reasons behind everything I do, when I try to recall the why’s of my what’s as I stumble upon the how’s.
I attain my flow every time I think less of myself and more of them whose commitment I have promised. When do I feel flow? I feel it the most when I work on it the least. This optimal experience of life is like taking a photograph. Before we can see a picture, someone or something else has to share an image while another takes that image through the imprints of a lens.
Back to work. Forget the clock. Enter that data as if it were a game. Talk to that client as if it were the last time to talk. Care for that patient as if life will not be there tomorrow. For perhaps, every latter portion of the statements I mentioned could be feasible. Might as well keep the thought and augment our experience to its utmost level of human joy.
Gather friends and laugh. Talk to your loved one without looking at your watch. Play with your dog around your yard. Flow is where your life is. And life is always there.