I wasn't thinking about anything.

Watching seagulls follow the boat to catch fish guts as they're thrown over, container ships passing in the distance, searching for and dodging patches of kelp; these activities gradually gave way to studying for high school exams, university courses, and starting a business.  

The anticipation of owning something I built from nothing was the only fuel I needed.  Long nights pouring through manuals and online forums, hours staring at a screen oblivious to whether it was daylight outside, let alone any shadows.  When I came across a sundial, I stopped for a moment to check if it was accurate, according to my fancy cell phone synchronized to an atomic clock.

It seems every day there's someone talking about the benefits of long rest periods, silent meditation retreats, and minimum uninterrupted vacation time of some number of days.  I would usually read them, agree with them, spend a few seconds dreaming about the day when I could relax, after I had arrived at my goal, some day in the future.

But no matter how well things went, how many goals were reached, I never felt like I had arrived.  Nor did I slow down, pick up any of the hobbies I lost, or take a day off, ever.  There was more to do, and only I could do it.  How could I ever ignore my responsibilities and take time off?  A mid day stretching class?  The mere thought brought pangs of guilt.

Enter the momentary reprieve of zoning out - it's simple, and can be done anywhere, even for a few seconds, but a bit longer brings exponential rewards.

1. Look up
2. Put your attention on something that moves (second hand on a clock, leaves on a tree, clouds in the sky, ripples on the ocean, watch a pot boil - spoiler alert: it does happen!)
3. Observe it

The list of things not to do at the same time are endless, and irrelevant.

Try it now.

How do you feel?

After only 10-20 seconds, I usually realize the thing I was focusing on was not the only thing in the Universe.  This sounds rather obvious, but it's the experience of switching from undivided attention on something, to letting go and flushing my mind, that is magical in the moment.  Often the next thought is some bodily or natural function, like thirst, sore neck, posture, which I then just let myself  take care of - walk to the fridge and get a glass of water, stand up and stretch, or visit my other "office", as they say.

Take time to sharpen the axe, especially if I don't have time, and there's too much to do.

Here's the bonus, and the real benefit for high achievers; zoning out recharges the focusing muscle, of sorts.  Even without the short walk to get water, just the gap in concentration - the mini zone out - I feel much clearer and able to focus again.

What about the endless questions,

• How much recharging is enough?
• How much recharging is too much?
• How long should I focus between breaks?
• How long should I recharge between work segments?
• Which do you do first in the day?

There are certainly named strategies out there - Pomodoro Technique (online timer), Flowtime, etc - and they can be used as a starting point, from which you can refine by increasing/decreasing/mixing/alternating until you find the patterns and amounts that work for you.

To be clear, recharging is not relaxing.

Recharging is a short segment of time, with a change in activity, to release the mind from its current draining/performing tasks, for the purpose of increasing its capacity to focus and perform afterward.

Zoning out, for 10 seconds, is such a simple activity that I can do standing in line at the grocery store, in the middle of a long draining task, or just on a weekend with no instigating factor.

To enhance this practice, read my post on Cultivating Boredom and the related TEDx talk on the concept.

If you feel a draw to grab your phone or start doom scrolling your social media feed, check out this post on Dopamine Detox with some books and a TEDx video I found fantastic to help cut the withdrawal.

The occasional time I got sucked into purchasing another trendy meditation subscription - promising to make my life better, beat procrastination, decrease alcohol's influence, and improve focus - it would seem as if I was "looking" inside my head, in a dark room, chasing away thoughts from the present or past with a small stick that couldn't reach them, in an attempt to relax.  Maybe if I could find some way to push through some amount of time or days building the routine, I may "get better" and float away on some beam of light.  But the crux of the problem was exactly that, pushing through it daily, and that simply was not happening.

Then, in the middle of my second of twice per year meditations, the voice - guided meditation voice that is - said, "Keep 50% of your attention on your inner core and the clear space we have created, and let 50% of your attention take in your environment."  I shifted my attention to the sounds around me, but it took over 100% of my attention very quickly, and I felt myself and my inner peace disappear, as if to keep the space clear required focus.  To correct this sudden loss of inner peace, I shifted back to the space inside me, as if shining a light in a room to increase the portion of lit area, but my surroundings disappeared again.  It seemed almost like being on a mountain focusing at my hand while the scenery blurred, then focusing on a distant mountain and my hand blurred.  Each time I adjusted focus, I occasionally increased the amount of the "other side" I kept within my awareness.

After a few rounds of attempting to keep track of two seemingly opposing concepts, it became clear it would only be possible by letting both my inner world and outer world occur independently of effort, and simply allow increasing amounts of each to fill the space which I labelled my awareness.

This semi-action/non-action of holding both the cleared space inside, and awareness of the environment outside, struck a chord in me that felt for the first time like the perfect balance of intention and allowing.

The next few minutes were the cleanest I'd felt in as long as I can remember.  I felt as if I had a semi-permeable wall between myself and the world, or rather some gradient like a gently sloping shoreline between water and land.  There was land, there was water, and there was a passive border of both, not in favour of one or the other.

As I write this, I notice my environment has disappeared.  I looked up and let some attention drift to my ears and heard the persistent sound of the ocean water gently lapping against the hull of the boat, and a chainsaw in the distance.  Was this there the whole time?  Then back to my posture, I can feel the annoying dull pain under my left shoulder blade.  My laptop disappeared.  I've gone back into Hungry Hippo mode, switching between concepts and artifacts; slow, notice an internal stimulus (legs getting cramped from sitting), external stimulus (water lapping on the boat hull), now both.  Add internal (let my shoulders relax and move my head back), external (sound of an airplane), now all joining together in a symphony; shoulder pain decreased, water sounds are muted but present, airplane has passed by.  The boat is rocking side to side, how long has this been happening?  How long has my belly been so flabby?  I can feel it moving independently from my core.  The sun is peaking through the clouds and warming my left side; another plane passes over head.

This exercise can happen anytime, for as long as I like.  I don't need to close my eyes, and I don't need an app; but I do want a way to remember to do this throughout the day, even for a few seconds...

Lately, as I've added a non-zero digit after the 4 in my age, I've been considering many things I can arguably no longer do, or more accurately that I no longer think are worth the effort for the portion of time I have left.  

When I was in my early twenties, fresh on my own from the family household, everything was a possibility; I wanted to do everything, learn everything, and meet everyone.  The more I did, the more I wanted to do, new opportunities kept arising and I said yes to all of them on the spot, not wanting to miss and event, activity, experience, or time with a friend.  When I asked people how to do something, I was met with the well-meaning albeit dismissive and unhelpful comment, "You've got lots of time."

Yes, that was true.  I did have lots of time.  But I was rather frustrated by the comment, and didn't know how to ask my questions differently, such that I could get some useful guidance from someone older than me, and at the time, everyone was older than me.  As time went on, I met more people that were younger than me, some of them asked for any helpful advice I could impart from my apparent successes.  Even thought experiments I had about what I would say to certain younger people, what could I tell them to help them stand on my shoulders, and get them past the mistakes which wasted so much time for so little gain.

Short aside to define "waste" and "gain".  Gain in this sense is progress toward the life I want to live, and being the person I want to become.  Waste is to discard recklessly, and as it relates to time, to spend time on things which I don't want, to impress others, or achieve something that I think I should achieve but isn't something I actually chose for myself.

A quote, from what I consider one of the best educational sitcoms, is when Roz is talking to a 19 year old who lists off many things that he can do in his life, in part because he is so young, and her response was, "Yes, you can do anything, but you can't do everything."  This hit me hard.  This was starting to get to the useful advice I was seeking.

"One must give up much, to get on with something."

Chorus from the well-meaning peanut gallery: "What do you want?" "What are your goals?"

These questions, for some reason, were like nails on a chalk board to me.  I didn't know what I wanted, and I certainly didn't want to write down goals and lock myself into that.  I didn't know everything yet, how could I chose from infinite possibilities, most of which I didn't know about to consider? I wanted the things I didn't have, and hadn't done, almost for that sake alone.  But what am I supposed to do?  I knew that question was "wrong" since it was externally directed, but what I meant was, what "should" I do so that I arrive at the end of my life satisfied, nay overjoyed with the results?  Certainly I couldn't avoid all unnecessary actions, but how could I at least head in the "right" direction?

"Work will expand to fill the time allotted for its completion." - Parkinson's Law

If I couldn't do the right thing, set the right goals, until I knew what there was to chose from, then the "work" was to find out everything, and the "time allotted" was as long as it took.  Here lies the fundamental error in my process.  I could spend the rest of my life "finding out", and never working toward anything in particular.

"Success is the progressive realization of a worthy ideal." - Early Nightingale

My insatiable hunger for self improvement, personal development, and life tools, lead me to become a "collector" of tips, hacks, quotes, insights, lessons, advice...  But the problem with constantly being in collecting mode, was a complete lack of practice in doing anything.  This went further to being afraid to do anything, because after so much time spent collecting, I had better do everything right, compounded with less time left to do whatever it is I wanted to do, which I still had yet to determine.

Alice: “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
The Cheshire Cat: “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”
Alice: “I don't much care where.”
The Cheshire Cat: “Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.”

In an essay by Peter Drucker, reprinted in Harvard Business School short books (what are these called, link to them) he introduces the idea that one's 20's are to find out how they operate, and find out which circumstances lead to performing optimally, then use that in consideration for choosing a career by the age of 30.  

In this sense, I felt my years of doing everything that came up was useful, although I was missing a key step in the process: reflecting on what worked and didn't work, what I enjoyed and disliked, which environments were supportive and which detracted from my creativity and ability to perform, then refining on the next pass, specifically searching for and doing more of what worked, less of what didn't, progressively honing in on what works for me.  Also, he mentions a time to allot to the task, roughly one's 20's; this criteria would have been helpful, but I didn't get the memo.

Future article about MBTI and working from home and how most biz books say not to do it, but I've found I couldn't imagine any other way.

What is the advice I would give myself, and anyone else?

1. Start now - Pick something, anything, and do it.  It doesn't matter what "it" is.  There is nothing to measure, and no parameters for learning, if there is no application.
2. Learn - what you need, when you need it. I will come across tasks and concepts which require skills and training beyond which I already posses; go get them, avoid getting stuck in the land of navel gazing and unlimited learning, and get back to performing.
3. Reflect - This isn't just resting, this is taking time away from performing, to view my actions and results as if by a third person, then refine and chose intentionally what I will do next.
4. Enjoy - Regularly, at scheduled intervals to build the practice, practice gratitude.  Aside from its own emotional and psychological benefits, a lifelong struggle up a hill is exhausting.  Take time to enjoy (not reward) where I am, and who I am.

"You have lots of time, and it will go fast." - Dean Stratos