In our hyper-connected world, we are bombarded with more information than ever. Our brains are on overdrive as we try to take in and process everything coming at us. We have all these tools that are supposedly meant to be time savers and yet hardly anyone feels they have enough time to accommodate all the things they want and need and long to do. Articles on how to manage time or increase productivity reinforce a toxic capitalist message that we must be constantly doing and producing or we are failing at being human. Our lives fill up with activities and obligations — to work, family, friends, community, the planet — until we feel so overwhelmed we become paralysed, unable to do anything. Or we become a frantic mess, neglecting proper sleep and eating poorly as we multi-task to complete a seemingly endless to-do list.
The results of this hyper-capitalist, hyper-connected world are detrimental to our collective well-being. It breeds a culture of entitlement and urgency, where we feel like people owe us their time or that we must sacrifice time on the altar of work in order to be worthy of self-care or partake in something that brings us joy. We burn-out, spin-out and check-out as we are unable to cope with the social expectation that if we are not ‘doing’, constantly, then we are not enough.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
There is a natural quality of spaciousness which is accessible to any of us at any time. It’s something I came to understand well when I attended Yarne in 2018, a forty-nine-day retreat held at Gampo Abbey in Cape Breton, Canada. Because it was a retreat, mobile phones were switched off, and Internet access was restricted to one day a week, and only in one room. We had very full days as far as the schedule went, but much of what was scheduled was meditation — sitting in a shrine room connecting with the present moment through the medium of the breath.
One could argue that going on retreat, or going anywhere remote to things like web access, is the only way we can connect to spaciousness, and therefore a limited and often privileged opportunity for most people. One wouldn’t be wrong about this. But what I learned on retreat was that spaciousness is always there and always accessible, we just have to learn how to stop obscuring it with busyness.
Boundaries are good
The container of retreat can teach us a lot that is applicable to our day-to-day lives. When we enter a retreat, there are clear boundaries. There are the physical boundaries of the retreat area, but there are also the intentions we set and the many rituals that create space between each activity. Everything is done in its own time, for a set duration, and defined by a clear starting point and finishing point.
I only check my email once a day, Monday to Friday. I set a time to do this and while I’m doing it, I have a list where I write down anything non-email related that comes up, or anything I need to follow-up on later. This way I can focus on my email — just my email — and not get pulled off by other projects or leave things half-checked or risk a communication getting lost.
Creating specific times for certain things doesn’t have to be a huge challenge, and it also helps set expectations for others. I restrict my social media usage significantly, but I know that for some of my friends, it’s their primary mode of communication. They know, though, that I choose to restrict my access because it’s better for my mental well-being. We have a mutual understanding that just because you can be reached instantatneously, doesn’t mean people are entitled to your time or energy.
These boundaries improve the quality of my communication, but also the quality of the relationships I have. By setting boundaries around when I communicate on social media or via email, I am designating time to genuinely engage with the other person. I’m not just replying to clear my inbox or out of a sense of guilt or obligation. I’m showing up fully for that person by giving myself time to be fully present while I compose my response.
One Thing At a Time
Contrary to popular belief, retreats are not about relaxation. Or at least the meditation retreats I’m talking about aren’t. Relaxation could come out of it, but as a side-effect, and not because the retreat is some escape from obligations and chores. It isn’t. Retreats have very full schedules. Every single minute from the moment you wake up until the moment you go to bed is accounted for. There are set meal times, meditation times, work periods, discussion groups, and free time. Each activity has its place in the schedule, and while that activity is happening, it is given the fullness of our attention.
Multi-tasking is something I avoid because I know, if I’m not giving my full attention to one thing, then I’m sacrificing the quality of my experience. If I start scrolling through Instagram while I’m watching a movie, I’m not really paying attention to either thing. My brain is taking in a lot of information, but I’m not going to get anything meaningful from it and splitting my attention is fatiguing.
A point of clarification, when I say multi-tasking, I really mean doing two things simultaneously. It’s not multi-tasking if you put on a load of laundry and then go sit down to work on a project for the time it takes the cycle to finish. It is multi-tasking if you are on your computer and you have multiple windows open to multiple forms of messaging and multiple conversations happening. Feel free to narrow those conversations down to the ones that take the highest priority and tell the others, “I want to give this my full attention and an unable to do so right this minute. Can we arrange a specific time to talk about this further?”
When I try to tackle more than one thing at the same time, both things will end up taking longer than if I’d just sat down and focused on one and then the other, and my energy is depleted. It took me a long time to realise what an energy drain it was, since so often, these things we multi-task at involve sitting in one spot, while engaged on one or multiple devices. Jumping from an article to a text message to an email and back again—trying to compose one and pausing to read something else — this is a lot of work for our brains. By setting those boundaries and keeping to one activity in that space, I am engaging in an act of self-care. I do not tire out so quickly despite hardly any physical movement.
Remember to Pause
Even though the schedule is very full when on retreat, there is always transition time built in between each activity. This is anywhere from three to five minutes where we shift from one activity to the next and can pause and re-orient ourselves. This intentional pause in the agenda is a reminder to pause during the activities too, as needed. It’s a reminder that we do not need to act on our impulses. We can take time to move from one thing to the next, and take time whilst we are working on something. Being in silence for long stretches of time during the retreat was also good training for this. I had nothing but space to watch a thought come up, along with the impulse to speak, and to let that impulse go.
Part of creating, or rather, allowing for space, is in noticing how we fill it. I have long seen how I fill space with words, social media, and busy-ness. But it took me a long time to realise I was equally capable of not filling it. When I notice myself starting to tip into overwhelm or feeling frantic about my growing to do list, I make a point of sitting in meditation for at least ten minutes. I will sometimes do a brain dump of everything I’m carrying — all my plans and plots and ideas and tasks — just before I head to the cushion. This allows me to be in the present moment and not work myself up into a froth.
Once I’ve meditated for a bit, I find I’m grounded and able to look at my to-do list rationally, without a sense of panicked urgency. Then I can prioritise it, doing one thing at a time. It is also a way for me to see the things I was doing that were filling up the time but weren’t really accomplishing anything and could be dropped. Again, this is why I restrict my social media usage so much. I know scrolling is a pointless time suck, and pausing has helped me discipline myself to not checking in on Tumblr or taking a peek at Instagram. Instead, I consider the stuff I’d like to share on those platforms, like writing or art, and use that scrolling time to be creative instead. Or I realise how tired I am, and I reclaim time i might have spent scrolling mindlessly, taking a nap instead.
A pause is a way for us to consider what matters to us, and how something we might be doing is actually causing more harm than good. It’s a way for us to cut the chatter of our thoughts or drop that gossipy text thread that isn’t really helpful. It’s also a way for us to unlearn the capitalist message that we must be in a constant state of productivity to prove our value or worth. Pausing is an act of resistance.
Spaciousness is there, for all of us, at any time. It’s not something we have to work to get to by plowing through our to-do lists. It’s something we can touch in with right now, by setting clear intentions for how we are going to use our time each day, stating the boundaries of that time, and choosing to focus on what’s next instead of trying to do All The Things All At Once. When we create more space in our own lives, we model that for others, which is encouraging self-care in our communities, social circles and professional spaces.
Life shouldn’t be about how much we get done or produce, but how we feel and the quality of living. When we connect with spaciousness, we allow ourselves time to consider what really matters and to use it for that which is meaningful. When we take our time and make time to be present, to set boundaries, to pause, our wisdom becomes accessible to us. And that is a beautiful thing.
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This blog was originally published on Medium.
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