"When people are not in the moment, they're not there to know that they're not there." - Ellen Langer, a psychologist at Harvard and author of Mindfulness“It doesn’t matter whether what you notice is smart or silly because the process of actively drawing new distinctions produces that feeling of engagement we all seek. It’s much more available than you realize: all you need to do is actually notice new things. More than 30 years of research has shown that mindfulness is figuratively and literally enlivening. It’s the way you feel when you’re feeling passionate." - Ellen Langer
Because of our work together, I've been thinking a lot about Ellen Langer and mindfulness. I am so adept at "spacing out" - zoning out - that I can sometimes spend much of my day never actually being where I am. I have lunch while I plan for the afternoon's play rehearsal or I navigate the halls of the school in the same old way, off ruminating in my head about a far away land. Or how many times do I have the experience of reading an entire page of a book and then realize I've not understood anything I've just (supposedly) read. So, I've been heeding Langer's advice that ANY activity can be done in a mindful manner just by doing it in a new way, taking a new approach, adopting a new point of view. This morning as I was listening to a gentleman, who came to speak at our school, I experimented with listening in new ways. At different times, I focused on his facial expressions, paid attention to how he tied his tie, listened with care to his NY dialect, attended to what words made his head move more vigorously. All of this I did while actually trying to take note of his content. I also shuttled between giving my attention to the speaker and allowing my attention to lapse. I got interested for a while in my boredom.
So, what does this have to do with our project? One of the pleasures of rehearsing this piece has been switching so effortlessly to a mindful mode. Some of this is out of a force of habit: I associate rehearsing with being alert and awake. But I think it has also been due to the design of the rehearsals. The very nature of the work we are doing - e.g., moving to Buddha boxes, "leading with my face," traversing the space in a smooth or sharp style, aligning my feet in a symmetrical manner (feels pigeon-toed but is symmetrical), connecting with others for a long period of time without talking, exploring the link between the muscles in my back and those in my arms, improvising for 45 minutes at a time, doing movement which is informed by the words of a cookbook, etc. - is filled with novelty and necessarily moves me into a more mindful place.
But part of the progression in rehearsal is shifting from being mindlessly mindless to being mindfully zoned out. Over the years there has been plenty of evidence pointing to the value of daydreaming. But recent research suggests that daydreaming is only creative and generative if you are aware that you are daydreaming while you daydream. i.e., there is a mindless and a mindful manner of daydreaming. It is in this mindful distracted state that I find myself starting rehearsal; aware of fatigue and unfinished business of the day. But I am tired and distracted with awareness. And therein lies the difference which makes the difference: the awareness. Eventually, I emerge from this state - when I focus with awareness on my predominant mood or feelings, I'm always amazed to discover my mood and feelings invariably change, shift, transform - and start making contact with others.
The structure of the rehearsals match my process of shifting from self to others. I've begun to wonder if this attentiveness to self is the cornerstone of building a community. After all, as the adage implies: You can't get to California if you don't know where you're starting from.
Additional thoughts on Ellen Langer and the concept of mindfulness:
So, what does this have to do with our project? One of the pleasures of rehearsing this piece has been switching so effortlessly to a mindful mode. Some of this is out of a force of habit: I associate rehearsing with being alert and awake. But I think it has also been due to the design of the rehearsals. The very nature of the work we are doing - e.g., moving to Buddha boxes, "leading with my face," traversing the space in a smooth or sharp style, aligning my feet in a symmetrical manner (feels pigeon-toed but is symmetrical), connecting with others for a long period of time without talking, exploring the link between the muscles in my back and those in my arms, improvising for 45 minutes at a time, doing movement which is informed by the words of a cookbook, etc. - is filled with novelty and necessarily moves me into a more mindful place.
But part of the progression in rehearsal is shifting from being mindlessly mindless to being mindfully zoned out. Over the years there has been plenty of evidence pointing to the value of daydreaming. But recent research suggests that daydreaming is only creative and generative if you are aware that you are daydreaming while you daydream. i.e., there is a mindless and a mindful manner of daydreaming. It is in this mindful distracted state that I find myself starting rehearsal; aware of fatigue and unfinished business of the day. But I am tired and distracted with awareness. And therein lies the difference which makes the difference: the awareness. Eventually, I emerge from this state - when I focus with awareness on my predominant mood or feelings, I'm always amazed to discover my mood and feelings invariably change, shift, transform - and start making contact with others.
The structure of the rehearsals match my process of shifting from self to others. I've begun to wonder if this attentiveness to self is the cornerstone of building a community. After all, as the adage implies: You can't get to California if you don't know where you're starting from.
Additional thoughts on Ellen Langer and the concept of mindfulness:
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