Do Less, Be More
Pamela Alma Weymouth, MSW, MFA
What if it was possible to do less in order to be more present? If you are rolling your eyes internally—I feel you. You have a child with a rare condition, you have a project with a deadline, you’ve got a roof that needs patching, three thousand emails, an insurance battle to fight and carrots to be chopped.
Yet mindfulness research suggests that when we single-task we are much more productive than when we multi-task. Technology however is constantly inviting us to distract ourself with all it’s bells and whistles. Beep: your best friend from third grade just had her fifteenth anniversary in Hawaii! Beep: your child’s school needs you to fill out another poll! Beep: your boss wants to know how that deadline is coming? Beep: the oven timer has just announced that you’ve burnt your pizza! Beep: there’s a new wrinkle cream! Prince Charles is angry at Meghan! There are one thousand more Covid deaths!
The young techies in Silicon Valley have figured out how to hit up our brains to trigger dopamine—that feel good brain chemical—that makes us crave more, more, more.
When I think about single-tasking—for me the single biggest obstacle is my phone—and the urge to check it while I’m doing something else. I painfully watch my teenagers with their new smart phones navigating this new seduction—constantly reaching and checking messages or surfing for silly videos because it’s easier to do this than just to sit on the sofa and read, or to just sit and look out the window, or just be. When I take away their phones (to horrified protest) they find a book, they begin to draw—they find the buried box of Legos.
Every Saturday if it’s not too windy or rainy I go paddle boarding (masked and at distance of course—until I’m out on the water). It’s the only place in my life where I leave my phone behind—just for an hour— but in that hour I am liberated—and I am forced to single-task, because on the board, on the choppy water, seagulls overhead, seals watching from the docks—I am not able to focus on anything except the board under my feet, the current, the passing boats. I must be in the moment, or the consequence of being distracted is falling straight into the very cold, murky water. This has happened on occasion—and it’s not something I cherish repeating—so instead I remain alert—feeling my feet, the wind, my arm muscles.
I push my way from dock past all the houseboats toward the harbor seals, and the pelicans. It is hard work when the wind is up—and there are moments when I am amazed at my own determination. I am a dancer by training not an athlete—and so finding this sport was a bit of a surprise—but it has kept me grounded through the pandemic—this one glorious hour a week that is dedicated to totally disconnecting from land, technology, my daily worries.
All I have to worry about on the water is if one of those big beautiful fancy sailboats is going to hit me—or if the wake they leave behind will throw me— the simplicity of these very concrete challenges is such a relief after a week of worrying about the complex stuff: my teenage sons, medical test results, work stressors, family drama.
On the dock today when I returned, a pregnant seal had parked herself right next to the kayaks and the paddle boards amidst the hustle of masked kayakers, parents with small kids, masked young people sanitizing the yellow kayaks. Women and men in shorts and colored masks lifted boards up onto platforms, all while keeping an eye on her. They had named her Estella. She was sunbathing, a leopard pattern on her back, a small bulge suggesting a baby. She looked peaceful, calm, content—unphased by all the bustle.
“She’s lazy,” said a small boy.
“She’s pregnant,” I said. Typical, I thought. Men see a resting woman as lazy—when in fact Estella was modeling the fine art of single-tasking. Growing a baby. Taking in the sun. Be-ing.
xo Pamela
When do you single-task?
When would you like to try single-tasking?
What would help make this easier?
Come talk more about mindfulness, single-tasking and how to stay centered through it all in our weekly Thursday Journaling & Resilience class. RSVP in Workshops, 11am PST this Thursday. Write a little, share a little. Confidential. Free. Fun. Nurturing.
