I was preparing to give a speech to young adults recently at the Innovation Center associated with our local college.  In doing so, I reviewed some of the interviews they did with past presenters.  The theme of the day it seemed was “disruption.”  Yes, I’ve read the salient books on the topic, and do recognize that disruption can be beneficial to wild success, especially with technology and systems innovation.  I do believe in change.  But as I pondered disruption and what I might present that would have lasting meaning, I kept thinking of my grandpa and his woodworking shop.

He lived a stones throw away from me where I grew up.  An immigrant from Switzerland, he had a very distinct German accent with a Scandinavian look and peaceful demeanor.  I remember he would nervously tap the fingers of his gnarled hands at the dinner table – he ate dinner often in our home.  My grandma passed early in life and grandpa was alone for many years.  He was generally at peace with a tinge of anxiety. As a widower, I think he was lonelier than I realized.

He arrived in the US before World War I and lived through the depression era.  He and grandma lost three boys under four years of age in a house fire and sent the three boys that followed off to World War II.  They lived through hard times and became examples of resilience with a quiet and enduring faith.  Nothing could have prepared them for the years of hardship they endured.  They just put one foot in front of the other, loved one another, put faith in divine providence, and let the chips fall where they may.  They were always sustained in their travels and travails.

When I was a boy, I would often wander over to visit my widowed grandpa.  He spent a lot of time in his rose garden and wood shop.  Next to his rose garden, which was interweaved with his fabulous rock garden, we would sit under the giant pine tree in lawn chairs.  There he would give me a wild cherry Life Saver, and we would chat.  I don’t remember the conversations, just that I felt safe and at peace sitting next to him.  I loved the smell of those wild cherry life savers amidst the smell of roses.

Often our time together would include a visit to his small wood shop.  We would take trips to the foothills from time to time as he walked for miles to retrieve the perfect cedar trees for carving.  He made tables and lamps from the aged cedar.  With his homemade tools he carved out the canyons and ridges of the twisted cedar trees.  Carving, sanding, sawing, filling in beetle holes, and finally staining his final products.  They were almost always gifts for others.

 This was a passion of joy for him, not to sustain him monetarily, but to toil for the joy of another person who would receive the gift.  Think of the hours of time he spent thinking of that person or family who would be blessed by a table or lamp which would be as unique as they were while he shaped the wood into its final form.  No two were alike – not the finished wood product or the people he gifted them to.

As he carved and sanded, I would be invited to grab a tool as he put his hands on mine to shape the wood.  The smell of cedar in my nose was delightful, and I didn’t want to clean up sometimes because I just loved the scent of his workshop on my clothes.  The scents wouldn’t last forever, but the lessons in the wood shop and beneath the tree and hiking in the foothills would stay with me forever.  Those lessons don’t dissipate with time, nor can they be washed out of the soul.

In one presentation I viewed, I watched the CEO of perhaps the most successful emerging business in Southern Utah tell the audience that it was more about the team and their values and relationships than the innovations of products and systems.  That was refreshing. He gets it. One student in the class asked him if they implemented Six Sigma stuff.  He didn’t know what that was, so he pivoted and talked about the value of trust and developing long-term relationships.  Good on him.  There is a reason they are listed in the top 5000 more successful companies in the world.

Please don’t misunderstand my message.  I do believe in innovation, technology, AI, and even disruption.  They all have their place.  But underpinning all of that should be the values and relationships of the teams involved in success.

My message to the class will be this.  Amid our changing world, REMEMBER the lessons from the past.  The hands (mentors) who guide the carvings, the smell of hard work, the time beneath the tree visiting with a lonely soul, and the walks in the wilderness searching for the gems that will emerge from their common existence into a life of beauty and meaning.  And of course, the smell of cedar dust and wild cherry life savers.

Maybe regarding “disruption,” we need to give a little more attention to disrupting the present rather than the past.

Early this year, acting from a yearning to include more hope and light in my life, and a way to reduce loneliness and build friendships, I formed a light-seeking group of six gentlemen aged 42-70.  I spent over a year vetting in my mind who might be a part of this group. 

The purpose of our group was defined, and we started meeting. We call our group “Porch Lights” and meet monthly.  Each month another member leads the discussion.  We sort of made up our own rules of engagement from such greats as Parker Palmer and Marcus Arrulius.  We meditate a few minutes to ground ourselves at the beginning of each meeting and to be present.  Then, each one in the group shares something of what’s going on in their lives.  Everyone listens with real intent. 

We established basic “rules of behavior” in this group there is no judgement, no one upmanship. Just transparent and thoughtful engagement.  No member is required to share or speak at all. Sometimes listening is the best way to share.

When we meet, each is given a bean bag, and if at any time one makes a point or comment that another finds they NEED to chime in on (pardon the interruption), OR feels like they are not being heard, they throw the bean bag into the center of the room and a discussion ensues (note, the bean bag has only been thrown once). 

The point of the group is to bring LIGHT into the conversations and each other’s lives from any direction.  It is not a “church” group, though we are each men of faith. We have had discussions on religion, faith, culture, personal challenges – beautiful aspects of light gleaned from good books, and perhaps most meaningful of all, the excavation of one’s soul as thoughts and experiences are shared.  Absolute trust to be vulnerable is what makes this gathering unique. It’s the most beautiful group I have ever been a part of.  I share this because it is foundational to what has happened since.

In this group each member knows of the challenges and grief our family has endured since the passing of our dear son who took his life at age 39, three years ago.  By no coincidence, this group has given me light, without even knowing it perhaps, to answer an inner call my wife and I have had to finally turn this grief around and have the burden lifted.  Though our personal faith has grown through this experience, we felt there was yet another part of this journey to explore.  Those of you who have read my previous articles regarding suicide ideation, know of the process this path has taken.

As we decided to act on the light that has been garnered, by no coincidence, we accepted an invitation from my oldest son and daughter-in-law to go to Switzerland on the third anniversary of our son’s passing to celebrate Skyler’s birthday – also the day of his passing.  This was Bear’s favorite country and he spent lots of time there with some family.  My grandfather is an immigrant from Switzerland, and we claim this as our “motherland.”

August 20^th will go down as a day filled with sacred meaning.  My oldest son had taken a trip to join Skyler in Switzerland a few years prior when he knew his brother was in trouble.  Together they walked Skyler’s favorite paths in the green and forested hills and mountains.  As we embarked on the trails he walked, there was no set agenda.  We brought his ashes to spread in his favorite spots, but otherwise had no set schedule as to how this day would go.  We felt deeply that this should be a day of celebration and not sadness.  Though in remembering, it’s hard to not also experience sadness due to our separation and deep love for one another.

This space we now found ourselves is where our boy found solace in his state of mental despair.   This is where he found peace and enlightenment.  He found an open chapel in the woods and meditated there.  This place is where he found the courage to face a world he simply did not understand.

As we walked, we found a beautiful unoccupied cabin porch overlooking the valley.  We borrowed it for a moment.  Ginger pulled out her phone and played her favorite recordings she had of Skyler.  We laughed and cried.  It was sooo good to hear his voice.  I took out a journal that had never been opened.  Leather bound and purchased at a spiritual garden store in Maui, I had saved it for a special occasion.   As I penned my thoughts, it was as if Skyler took my pen and helped record the moments.  All of us felt as though Skyler was penning or saying to us “Enough already” – “no more grief” – “no more long faces.”  “I’m just fine and all of us should move forward in joyous gratitude.” 

I closed the journal.  It was time to keep walking.  My son and his wife took a higher path where he and his brother had walked years before, and Ginger and I took a little lower one.  Each of us found a spot we knew Bear would appreciate being laid to rest.  Ginger and I found a grouping of three beautiful trees on the hill and laid on our backs beneath one of them them.  Seeing only the clouds drift above us and the tree standing over us, and the breeze on our face, we shed our final tears of grief and took up Skyler’s charge of gratitude.  We laughed and cried and hugged. 

We had our own little ceremony, left a part of Skyler under this tree to become a part of it over time, placed some fresh cut flowers and walked away, hand in hand.  Ginger said she finally felt the burdens of grief lifted.  We were tired from walking all day but felt renewed and filled with a hope that was palpable.

I credit my oldest son and my “Porch Lights” group for providing the impetus for this pilgrimage.  This experience was a fitting close of one chapter and the opening of a new one – yet to be lived and explored.  We always remember the prior chapters, but we must keep reading and moving forward, living into the unknown.  Occasionally, we will need to toss in a bean bag and allow some grief to be voiced.  We must allow for the authentic and what comes naturally. But overall, as we gather together, we shall evoke the light which has been garnered with a renewed sense of gratitude, not grief.  The light will continue to flow and fill us as we live into the best life our son expects us to be living.

For some time now I have boldly researched the topic of suicide ideation and related mental health concerns.  I’m not a scientist or a doctor, rather, I’m a grieving father who lost his son to suicide two and a half years ago at the age of 39.

“Bear” still makes an occasional visit in my mind.  I’m enough of a believer in how connected the entire universe is to believe that my son even graces us through butterflies and birds – even through a buck deer who one time paused to pose and speak to me.  I know to some that sounds strange, but I’ve also learned to relish the unknown and make that a part of my faith.

My wife, Ginger, and I and our entire family were graced with certain experiences in Skyler’s passing that have anchored us in a solid foundation of things divine.  In fact, the circumstances, and events we were graced with at that time caused us to delay, or perhaps even believe it unnecessary to deeply grieve our loss. 

But the pain never really goes away. And because we love him so, frankly, it shouldn’t dissipate like fog in the morning sun.  No, it needs to linger from time to time so we can sit and celebrate our Bear.  Sometimes he even stops by to comfort us with a figurative bear hug.

Since his passing, at Christmastime we put up a small tree and decorate it with Skyler’s ornaments.  It’s a tender time as we relive how these ornaments came to be. We laugh and cry and miss him so.  Recently, the day after Christmas, my wife and I looked at each other and both felt to take down Christmas and move on. 

As I was taking the bulbs off the tree, a royal purple one with a lovely manger scene and Skyler’s name imprinted near the top, slipped from my hand.  In slow motion I cried “noooooo” and then it shattered on the wood floor.  Suddenly, the pent-up grief that had never been released, gushed out of me as I sat and sobbed.  This bulb would never grace the tree again.  It was broken and beyond repair.

Ginger was kind and came from the other room to witness the commotion.  She joined me in the intermittent sobs as I picked up the damage.

We have some of Bear’s ashes on our mantle in the form of a bear.  He was watching over this entire episode.  I heard him say in my mind “That’s OK Dad, it’s just a bulb.” And later, “I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t put too much energy in the things I had. I’ve moved on. Those things don’t hold my soul, God does.”

My intent in researching and writing about suicide ideation and mental health is to provide foundational truths that can change the way one deals with these issues, and hopefully heal some of the unknown and delayed sorrow and grief. 

I recently learned that living in the world of wonders is better than living in a world of answers.  Ultimately our path is defined by love. When we love into the wonders and the unknown, we also invite a peace and tranquility that sifts reality from broken Christmas bulbs to a reminder of who it is who holds our soul. 

Not coincidentally, I was recently reading the book Art + Faith by Makoto Fujimura and learning about Kintsugi, the art of taking broken fragments or chards of glass and pottery and restoring them.  The idea is to embrace flaws and imperfections and turn them into even more beautiful art than before they were broken.  I momentarily looked at the broken Christmas bulb, wondering if this might be possible. But then I heard a voice again telling me “Your son is in no need of repair, let it go.”  Understanding that my son’s brokenness was no longer in need of repair helped me to see what “is” rather than what “was.”

So, I begin this new year with added perspective.  Makoto Fujimura said, “There is no art if we are unwilling to wait for the paint to dry.”  Time is a healer, and for those of us living beyond the most painful sorrow imaginable, WE can move forward too.  Continue to hold space for the occasional sobs of sorrow but understand the bulb that was broken is not in need of repair.  We need only to love and see the beauty that continues, even if it is from and through loss.

A pastor noticed that a parishioner had stopped attending his services.  The parishioner evidently felt he was no longer noticed, loved, or missed by his attendance, so he simply stopped coming.

The pastor gave it some prayerful thought and paid a visit to the elderly man on a very snowy and cold winter day.  He knocked on the door.  The man opened the door, and they had a cordial greeting, but beyond that, neither said a word. 

The man motioned to a chair to join him by the fire. After a good time of only the sound of wood and coals crackling and feeling the warmth of the fire, the pastor picked up the fire prod and began poking at the coals.  He moved a glowing coal away from the fire.  They both sat watching as the coal lost its heat and eventually stopped glowing.  Several minutes went by in silence.  Then, the pastor pulled the coal back to the edge of the fire as they watched it rekindle and glow again, adding heat and luster as the glowing embers glistened off their warming faces. The pastor put the prod down, tipped his hat and walked to the door and let himself out. 

The following Sabbath, the man returned to the congregation.  The pastor welcomed him by name and asked what brought him back.  The man said “Pastor, at my home by the fire, you gave the best sermon I’ve ever heard you give without saying a word.”

This story I recently heard is directly relatable to the epidemic of anxiety and depression in our world today, especially among our youth.  Feelings of anxiety and depression often lead to isolation. The healing process is a two-way street.  Those who notice the dying ember must reach for it and bring it back into the fire.  Those who are the dying ember must allow themselves to be open to authentic outreach and be willing to be moved (both on their own and by the love of the community).

The question is how to begin this outreach.  One of the more evident answers is to do as the pastor did, and not say a word—just listen and be there for each other.

In his book, Happy Mind Happy Life, Dr. Rangan Chatterjee articulated 10 rules for listening to others.

1. Be non-judgmental.
2. Be curious.
3. Practice true sympathy: not “I know how you’re feeling,” but, “I don’t know how you’re feeling but I am here for you.”
4. Take time to really listen; don’t just think about the next thing you’re going to say.
5. Show them you are listening with your body language—posture, tone of voice, eye contact, not being distracted by your phone.
6. Don’t try to predict where the conversation will go next.
7. Embrace silence.
8. Repeat back what they’re saying in your own language.
9. Don’t try to fix them or rush in to tell them what you would do.  Instead, try asking “How did that feel for you?” and then actively listen without interruption.
10. Have no attachment to the outcome of the conversation.

There are also keys for listening to ourselves and surrounding ourselves with people in selective circles of trust. Parker J. Palmer, talks about developing circles of trust in his book, A Hidden Wholeness.  Not surprising, he notes both the need for companionship and community in our journey, as well as being able to live in silence to effectively “listen” for our inner voice.  He writes“….We all have an inner teacher whose guidance is more reliable than anything we can get from a doctrine, ideology, collective belief system, institution, or leader.”  

Becoming acquainted with our inner voice (or teacher) is essential.  Though it is a unique voice for each of us, it still requires community for our inner truth to leave isolation.  This journey toward inner truth, he said, is too taxing to be made solo, too deeply hidden to be traveled without company, and needed to find the courage to venture into alien lands (a new life of fulfillment).

The space we make to discover and listen to this inner voice is highly individual.  No two people may take the exact journey, and that is the beauty of discovering our inner voice It is OUR personal teacher—no one else’s.  It is OUR personal tutor and speaks only to us if we are listening.

For me, finding my inner voice requires peace.  In some recent travels I had a chance to compare total chaos in a busy city to the absolute peace of a secluded lake.  What was the difference between them?  The city was a cacophony of noise with masses of people like salmon swimming upstream. While at the lake, I could sit and hear myself breathe as I viewed the large expanses of mountains and water.  The silence around me brought the peace I was seeking, and my inner voice began to speak to me.  Those trusted friends who were with me were kind enough to watch me breathe without saying a word, until I was ready to reveal some of what my inner voice was telling me.  I extended the same courtesy to them.  This became a beautifully healing experience.

In all my research and lived experiences dealing with these issues, I’ve felt simple observations and suggestions like these are helpful.  The formula that works for me in lowering my anxiety and limiting bouts of depression are these:

• Find a place for peaceful silence without being too isolated; a space to hear the inner voice guiding your next steps. 

• Be with trusted friends and family who have the skills to listen, really listen (sometimes without saying a word), and to enjoy the warmth of their figurative fires to keep the embers of hope alive. 

• Practice the art of listening as you figuratively reach for the fire poker and gather in the dying embers to ignite hope.

Evolution requires reflection.  I hope as you reflect on the impressions of the inner voice, ponder the story of the dying ember, and commit to a being a better listener, you will discover ways to be reignited and experience the glow and warmth you truly deserve.  

In part one of this two-part series, we learned a few steps to increase our focus and purpose in this world of information overload and multi-tasking. In part two, we will dive deeper into the mechanics and disciplines that extend our focus and purpose to a higher level.

The Psychology of Focus

When I left Wyoming to pursue other interests, my mother was distraught. She wanted me to stay on at the bentonite plant until I could be hired by the oil industry where my father and brother worked. In her mind, this was my destiny. I totally respect those who have worked hard in the oil fields, and for many families tied to this industry this is the path to success. This is what they know, and their world other options are not imaginable. At least, that was my mother’s way of thinking.

Many people follow a path of familiarity, because “it’s always been that way.” Traditions become truth, and sometimes these traditions can limit our ability to gain deeper truth and also limit our discovery of how to bring purpose and real joy into focus.

In the early 1980’s, the Harvard professor B.F. Skinner was famous for his study of human behavior. He found that you could train the focus and attention of animals by reinforcing behavior. If a pigeon lifted its wing, and the response was to feed it, that behavior would repeat itself if there was a reward. Skinner suggested that free will was an illusion, believing that human action was the result of conditioning. He believed what he learned from the animals could be transferred to human psychology.

In fact, this type of instant reinforcement is now used by social media companies whose users number in the billions, getting their instant rewards for their actions.  But instant gratification and reward doesn’t always transfer to an ability to focus and think deeply.  In fact it can subdue them.

Mihaly Csikszentmihaly came to America challenging Skinner, believing there had to be a more positive explanation to the psychology of behavior. In part of his study, he observed a group of painters in Chicago working on their paintings patiently for hours on end. He observed that creative people were not so interested in the rewards, but rather the outcome of their work was more important. He observed other groups of people in other activities that required long-term focus, like chess players and rock climbers. He discovered that focus was a result of “flow” and created the concept of “flow state.”  This happens when a person becomes so absorbed in that which they are doing, it carries them forward with pleasure.

Mihaly discovered, not surprisingly, that distraction and multi-tasking kill flow.  Flow can only be achieved through monotasking. Choosing this path of flow requires a clearly defined goal, with meaning to you behind the goal, and working to the edge of your ability.  If the goal is too easy, we go on auto pilot, but if it’s too difficult, we become anxious and do not strike the balance of flow state.  As we progress in our abilities, the edge of our abilities also moves forward, but we need to be in a flow state to get there.  This pocket is a recognizable mental state where we become one with the task. 

When I flew airplanes, I could have the controls in my hands and could feel every axis of the flying experience, or I could put the airplane on auto pilot.  On autopilot, I would easily forget about the immediate tasks of flying; but it didn’t take me to the edge of my abilities.  Interestingly, no pilot keeps the airplane on auto pilot all the way to the runway.  At some point they must have had the experience of having the controls in their hands and knowing exactly how to absorb the conditions around them to fly safely to the ground.  In this flow state I would become one with the airplane – a joyful experience.

The Skinner approach suggests rewards at each step of the process, but does not allow the space to enter deeper focus. The Mihaly approach allows the focus to be derived from the goal and passion, rather than the conditioning for results method of thinking. The Skinner theory rewarded learned behavior sometimes at the expense of focus, while the Mihaly theory discovered the pleasure and joy people experience during periods where focus is fully absorbed. This makes sense to me when I think of the few times my focus was so centered, I really did enter a new dimension and I evolved.

The challenge of our day centers on this question “How do I change my focus to that of a flow state, rather than a “click and switch” lifestyle”?

Here are three considerations to achieve a higher degree of focus and purpose:

1. Get your sleep. The National Sleep Foundation has found that 40 percent of Americans are chronically sleep deprived. Even during off hours and what would normally be sleeping hours, employers now commonly ask their employees to be accessible and expect them to respond to their devices like Pavlov’s dogs. Once the device goes “ding” and the screen comes to life, it takes another 20 minutes minimum for the senses to quiet themselves to achieve sleep.

A lack of sleep destroys the ability to focus, deprives one of creativity, and doesn’t allow one to enter the deepest sleep which heals and restores. You can’t cheat your way through lack of sleep with caffeine or other substances; these stimulants have their own set of damaging issues. 

2. Learn to read again. Gallup found that 57 percent of Americans now don’t read a single book from cover to cover in a single year. Though I read around a hundred books a year – the real hold in your hands books – I find most of my friends either listen to books or read them on devices.

Apparently, the way we read books makes a difference.  Johan Hari in his book Stolen Focus, interviewed Anne Mangen, a professor of literacy at the University of Stavanger in Norway who performed a two-decade study on this.  She found that reading on screens causes us to read differently, with more tendency to skip and skim and not dive deep into the pleasurable immersion of reading from a book. Her research from fifty-four studies has labeled the difference as “screen inferiority,” which concludes that reading on screens diminishes understanding, retention, and the pleasure of reading.  All told, it reduces our ability to focus.

3. Redefine Prosperity. Consider what prosperity means to you. We live in a world where financial wealth and growth is the litmus test for success. If the companies we work for do not grow, we don’t prosper.  Financial wealth aside, If we don’t grow personally, we don’t prosper either. This is where the attention to improving our focus comes in.  In my view, real prosperity isn’t the balance in your checking account (though that can help), rather, it’s the measure of your joy and peace.  It’s the measure of the love that surrounds you.  Personal growth then requires a deeper measure of focus, which in turn increases the reservoir that defines true prosperity.

Imagine a world where we spend more quality time with family, get enough sleep to be restored and healed every night, spend enough time and focus on our flow states, limit our intake, slow our roll, and learn to read again. This is the world I want to live in more fully. I am using these steps to enter and stay in that world. If these are your desires also, I invite you to join me in this journey.

So much information bombards our minds these days. We absorb more information than ever before. Let me re-phrase that. We are fire hosed with more information than ever before, but we actually don’t absorb any more – UNLESS – I’ll get to that in a moment.

In my early married life I had a job at a bentonite factory. I swept the floor from one end of the plant to the other.  I would dutifully sweep in one direction, only to look back and see about the same amount of dust had accumulated on what I had just swept. Then I would turn around and repeat the process. 

I hated that job.  But in my mind it was a means to an end.

After a particular hard day at work I walked out from the plant in boots and mud and my wife picked me up.  She announced as I hugged her, that she was pregnant with our first child, AND, there was no way she was having our baby in Lovell, Wyoming.  At that moment I became acutely aware of my situation and my responsibility as a husband and future father, and I made a conscious decision. Just like Jed Clampett, we loaded up the truck and moved to California.

It was that experience that pushed me forward, out of that plant and into something that caused me to evolve. 

Dr. Roger K. Allen, an expert on personal transformation, says we are not “locked in to earlier decisions; re-deciding requires that you be aware, take responsibility…and then act from a conscious decision.”  The writer James Baldwin opined “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

The process of moving forward with intention, regaining focus and purpose, or in other words evolving, is not an easy process. Evolving, rather than running on the same hamster wheel all day and repeating, requires intentional decisions. Intentional decisions require focus. HOW to focus amid all the information and distractions is the question. Here are a few observations that may help.

Four Steps To Achieve Greater Focus and Purpose:

Limit the intake. Limiting the intake from the firehose of information available brings with it the usual dangers of detoxing from any other addictions. Often a chasm forms that must be bridged to move forward.  It seems like an oxymoron at first, limiting the intake to move forward. Let me explain.

I had one of the very first car phones (before personal cell phones).  Proudly mounted on my dash, it was a small phone booth-type telephone inside my car. The world became smaller. This was the beginning, I’m almost embarrassed to say, when the world of instant data coming from all directions was not only addicting for me, but it filled the voids of my own loneliness. My focus diminished, but my knowledge of many things was expansive.  I joined the hollow world of becoming a star in my own space. I was a “big deal,” and this mounted phone booth in my car proved it. 

This self-made blanket of security, which built each year to circa 2015,  was suddenly ripped away when I was fired from the company I had built and sold, exposing me to the real world and causing within me an identity crisis. It would, however, become an opportunity for growth and self-reflection. My cocoon of self-made narcissism had to be cracked open to let the butterfly within me get wings to fly. 

Limiting our intake of the noise surrounding us is key to learning the art of focus. It might take a sudden reality adjustment. But the process of detaching from the daily firehose must start.  If we can discipline ourselves regarding this intake of information and fake self-worth, we can then absorb the best life has to offer. For example, putting the cell phone down for dinner with the family, a movie, or a drive with your loved one is a small but important start. Even in church, I observe many people on their cell phones during the service. How did we get here?

Any detox has withdrawals and challenges. But control over the intake is key to evolving and not repeating the same processes of reaching for information every few seconds.  Being unplugged makes the brain think again and the initial blank space is soon populated with the color of a new palette.  

Learn the art of focusing. A recent study found that the average American college student switches tasks every 65 seconds. Adults in an office can only stay on a task for three minutes. This challenge of focus has been going on for centuries, but it has been accelerating in our time. In Johann Hari’s best-selling book Stolen Focus, he wondered if the motto for our era might be “I tried to live, but I got distracted.”  He notes that Professor Michael Posner at the University of Oregon found that if you are distracted, it takes on average 23 minutes to return to that focus. How many times are you distracted in a day? How many minutes are lost?

Understand that “multi-tasking” is a myth. It was invented to help computers. But then it was applied to humans, thinking it would be successful. Professor Earl Miller at MIT discovered through his research that we can only focus on one or two thoughts in our conscience mind at once. It was found in a study commissioned by Hewlett-Packard, that multi-tasking, can lower your IQ by more than ten points. This practice of multi-tasking is also referred to as “switching.”  If you do this, you will be slower, make more mistakes, be less creative, and remember less of what you ought to be focused on.

Slow the roll. Guy Claxton, a professor of learning sciences at the University of Winchester, analyzed what happens to a person’s focus if they deliberately engage in practices such as yoga, meditation, or other like practices that, as he puts it, “shrink the world to fit our cognitive band width.” Slowing our roll nurtures attention and focus, while adding speed shatters it.

I recently joined a group on a sailing trip. Our cell service was spotty, and we were “forced” to slow our roll. What happened? We visited, we read, we had meals together, and played card games at night. We had time to star gaze and ponder life. We nurtured things that otherwise were lost in our hamster wheel world. While sailing, it was impossible to multi-task as our attention was focused on the wind, the sails, the charts, and all that is required to not become shipwrecked. It was a detachment of real proportions from the world we live in.  Magic happens when we slow the roll. We gain focus, get smarter, and gain a portion of this asset we call uninterrupted time.

Remove the mask and reveal yourself. You cannot evolve behind a façade. Our social media world creates a nagging sense of hollowness.  As you detach from social media’s intended addictive conditioned behaviors, and your detox begins, it can create an absence of meaning. My friend who put himself through this detox found that the lack of all the texts, instant messages, emojis, likes, hearts, etc. were devastating—initially. Gradually, without the social web there to tell him how wonderful he was, he realized the shallowness of the substance he had previously counted strongly toward his self-worth.

We will continue this idea of increasing focus and purpose in part two of this series as we learn more about evolving, gaining focus, and purpose. Until then, if we can gain 20 percent more focus and become more fulfilled and happier as a result, isn’t it worth the effort?