For thousands of years philosophers and religious scholars around the world have been outlining principles for living well, along with guidance for how this might be achieved.  Each evolutionary step in the production and distribution of the written word has encouraged successive waves of wisdom to flow.  In the last hundred years this has become a torrential outpouring of educational and self-help material apparently focused on increasing our understanding of contemporary living and, in very many cases, explaining in detail how it can be mastered.

A common approach has been to represent modern life as a game and to provide a broad definition of the landscape with detailed descriptions of the rules of engagement.  Some descriptions are specific to certain cultural environments, while others seek to transpose values from one culture to another.  Qualifications and specific qualities needed for success are described in such a way as to seem just about attainable.  

Both the rules and how to succeed are presented as a given, reflecting the originator’s confidence in their particular viewpoint.  The problem for the reader is which playbook to choose.  In many ways the landscape has significantly changed through the years which suggests that what enabled people to be successful a hundred years ago might not necessarily bring the same results today.  There would seem to be core rules and then situation specific guidance, with certain themes running across all settings.

As important as the rules are the definitions of success, how success is measured and what the rewards will be.  Success seems to have been consistently defined either in terms of achieving a particular standard of material worth or arriving at a form of spiritual contentment.  For some these are interdependent, one is not possible without the other, other people choose to focus their efforts on one element believing that the other will follow.  Many of us keep switching our attention, risking missing both targets.

The rules and the subsequent prizes are not arbitrary.  They have been developed over time to reward those qualities believed by many to be necessary strengths.  This hierarchy of skills and abilities is not based upon any universal standard, but would seem to have been agreed by those with power based on their cultural values.  They reflect, as well as confirm, the existing social and political hierarchies.

Those who feel excluded may see this as a conspiracy, while those who are on the inside regard any attempt by outsiders to challenge what they believe to be their deserved privilege as a sign of envy and a threat to their supremacy.

If we are unable to develop these qualities or achieve those qualifications, can we still choose our position or must we accept the one that is offered to us?

However pervasive a system or structure may appear to be, it is not inevitable.  It has been put in place by people and kept in place by other groups of people.  The details of the game are not fixed even though there may be some come core principles about power and influence which seem to have applied in many settings throughout history.

It is also important to note that just because our skills seem to fit does not make it the right game for us to play.  Many people walk a path that seems to fit only to discover later that precious needs were not being met and have started to whither.  If something comes easily then it might be a reason to continue but there must be other measures to confirm besides the amount of effort required.

I believe that there are two important steps in the journey we take to find where we fit.  For me there is a need for a fundamental set of beliefs that form the reference point for all of the decisions and choices that we make.  It feels like these can apply across cultures and through time.  We must then focus upon matching our needs with those of the environment in which we find ourselves, while staying connected to the root system of our beliefs.

I see the role of early education to encourage us to develop these core beliefs and then to learn the fundamental skills to be able to engage effectively with our environment and the people around us.  Later education encourages the development of specialist skills, or perhaps a wider breadth of less specific knowledge, which allow us to flourish.

When skills are learned that are not grounded in a positive personal value system we risk developing a talent to respond superficially to our experiences without fully engaging with the world around us.  Driven either by our own perceived needs or our perception of what is required, the disconnection may not become apparent for some time.  It will be evidenced by an ongoing dissatisfaction, which may be hidden by evidence of temporary success.

Matching our needs with our environment, including the people around us, is perhaps the main prerequisite for a successful life however it is measured.  This requires us to be able to identify and understand what is needed and then to have the ability and assurance to match one with the other.

I believe that we need to develop, and continue to evolve, a set of core principles which are tailored to fit not handed down through the generations by academics, politicians or prophets.   We then need to fully appreciate what is important to us.  As we look beyond ourselves we must try to understand what those around us need and how best we can respond.  This begins with those living close by and extends through and beyond our own culture to include all others. The better the fit between these two worlds, the more successful, and content, we will be.   Finally, we need to regularly sense-check these conclusions to ensure that they continue to meet our collective needs.

It is not for us to shape ourselves to the structure but rather to identify a structure that is a comfortable fit and if we cannot find one that is good enough then it might be necessary to build our own.

© 2015 Michael Golding

Whenever we interact with others, how we feel at the time will colour the experience and affect the outcome.  The stronger the emotions are the more significant their role will be and the greater their impact.

The feelings may be part of the reason for the action or may be anticipating the outcome.  Wherever the balance may lie, they will be an integral and influential part of the whole experience.  Nothing we do is devoid of emotions.  If they are not obvious then we need to look a little harder.  If they are easy to see, it may be useful to look beyond the surface to appreciate the real emotional drivers for any situation.

From infancy we have been developing our ability to recognise the emotions of others that echo through their words and actions.  Initially we may have needed these skills for our survival. This reduces as we become less dependent on others, yet continues to be an important source of social and cultural information throughout our lives.  We cannot help but feel the emotions behind the words and deeds of others. While it is easy to be distracted by the written word, watching and listening can give us all of the information we need. 

Professional actors have learned to inhabit a constructed world where they can feign emotions that convince us for the time we share with them.  Politicians must maintain their roles and over time a supposed requirement for presenting an externally acquired message irrespective of personal feelings has for many become a permanent part of their visible persona.  Much of the frustration we feel with those in authority results from a poor connection between their words and their emotions.

Real life relationships are required to last longer and do not come with props and music to help direct the mood.  We have all experienced people who believe they are successfully masking their real feelings by using a learned language of empathy.  At the time they may even be convinced their feelings are genuine.  We experience this as hollow, or at best confusing. The lack of congruence between their words and emotions will be communicated to us in a myriad of tiny ways that are sensed even when not completely understood. 

Parents or teachers who talk or act against their true feelings will leave children feeling something is wrong and possibly drawing unhelpful conclusions about the cause.  The same is true for any leader who disagrees with, or is ambivalent about, what they are asking others to do. This creates confusion in their troops, or staff, affecting morale and commitment that puts the task and possibly the wider project at risk. 

Public sector professionals required to pass on a message they are personally at odds with will not be able to convince or reassure their clients, patients or customers.  Only the finest actor can successfully espouse a conviction they do not genuinely feel.  There a very few of those, professional or otherwise, and even they can only maintain the illusion for as long as we allow.  The rest of us who try this will be experienced as liars, or at the very least lacking authenticity, undermining both our personal authority and the credibility of the message we are trying to communicate.

Any activity involves us in a sequence of decisions, some with more intention than others, as we measure out the different forms of personal effort and resources we believe are needed to accomplish the task.  It is all too easy to overlook the emotional content.

Consider preparing a meal for someone you do not like. Even if you do not deliberately spoil the experience, it is likely you will do no more than the bare minimum that is required.  Compare this with creating a meal for someone you love.  Whatever your abilities in the kitchen, you will do all you can to make the experience the best it can be.  I can imagine coming to the table in each of these situations and having a very different experience.

Words or actions with positive intent driven by negative emotion will only have limited success.  If we are fearful or uncertain before we begin it will be reflected in our words and actions.  We may be tentative when a firmer touch is needed, or fail to convince those whose contribution is also needed.   Our commitment may waver causing us to abandon a project before completion or not attend sufficiently to all of the details so that present or future failure is built in.  We can be sabotaged by our own emotional ambivalence as underlying conflicts undermine our concentration or commitment without even coming into awareness.

I wonder how it would be if before we act we were to reflect upon the emotional content of what we are about to do or say so that we can confirm that it is what we want it to be.  If we cannot be sure what lies behind our actions, then we might consider holding back until we are.  If there is a need to act then perhaps it is important to try to identify a positive emotion to drive the actions so as not to undermine the value of what we are doing.

If we are not able to act with love, compassion or kindness – maybe it would be better not to act at all.

© 2015 Michael Golding

The opportunity for spending time doing nothing in particular seems to be becoming extremely rare.  Like many children, my school days were ordered by a timetable which dictated where I would be and what I would be doing.  During the holidays, I faced a daily quiz each breakfast-time about how I would pass the hours till it was time for tea. 

For many of us, most of the hours spent at work belong to others and has to be justified in terms of what someone more senior believes we should be doing.  Within the time that is our own the range of responsibilities we have acquired, through whatever route, further impact on the opportunities we have for doing nothing in particular.

I believe that we are distracted by applying ourselves in a half-hearted way to tasks whose value is measured mainly in the time and effort we expend.  It would seem to be enough that we have been doing something without feeling the need to look too closely at what has actually been achieved.

Taking time for meditation is often expressed as doing something, even though successful practice requires us to strictly limit our focus.  Perhaps we feel a need to ascribe intention to what may feel like an absence of intention, to the point where we must express inaction as an action.

Our bodies are constantly active in all the various processes needed to support life, without our explicit involvement, and most of these continue even when we sleep.  When we choose to act there is a layer of intention that involves a greater degree of engagement as we attend to particular details.  Between these two positions there is a space when we are conscious without consciously acting.

I may be sitting staring out of the window with my eyes focusing on an unseen horizon, or gazing into the fireplace as fingers of flame reach up the chimney.  Something is taking place even though I may not be fully aware of what it might be or my contribution to the process.  My heated creativity drips slowly through the grounds of my knowledge and experience to produce something of value. 

Whatever its origins, the idea of needing to be occupied with something regarded as worthwhile, either by you or those around you, undervalues this time used for percolation.  The issue is not just about the name we choose to apply to the activity of inactivity, but about the value we ascribe to it and our expectations of the experience.

I believe that there is a need for regular reflection, which becomes more pressing as we fill our time with other activities.  This is not something that we can pursue explicitly as it has more to do with creating an environment in which it will take place.  The focus needs to be on a passive allowing rather than an active doing.  Even when this happens, does there need to be an output to evidence process, and do we need process to justify the time that we have set aside?

It helps to have a blank page to allow the creation of something new.  Any lines, shapes or colours already in place will restrict or even direct our actions.  It may be that the blank page is intimidating or creates an obstacle to that first pencil’s touch, though I wonder if this is only the case when there is a compulsion to produce.  Can we usefully contemplate the blank space and still leave it untouched?

There will always be times when we must resist the pressure to justify our stillness, so that we can stare into the space between conscious and unconscious action.   Only then may come the slow dripping of creative flow that will sometimes distill a precious brew but which is just as likely to trickle away leaving very little behind. 

To appear to be doing nothing without expecting any result can bring far more satisfaction than filling the space with an empty something whose final outcome will be worth so much less.  

© 2015 Michael Golding

When asked how we are, many of us will reply that we are, or have been, busy.  Using busy as an adjective in this way seems to separate the state of being busy from any of the actions that this busyness entails. The Myth of Being Busy is that it is enough simply to have lots to do without there being any need to identify, reflect upon or justify, what it is we are actually doing. 

The difference between the state of being busy and the act may well be about perception.  Believing we have lots to do can give us a sense of purpose and make us feel valued, while having little or nothing to do can lead to listlessness and even depression.  

Being an employee usually means committing to working specified hours for someone else.    For people who have any degree of autonomy over their work, there is often little distinction made between hours spent at work and time spent actually working.  All of it can be described as being busy, almost as if being busy has become the baseline from which all activities are measured.

Keeping busy can be a distraction which can help us get through difficult times, such as a relationship breakdown or the death of a loved one.  However, such distractions can also keep us from taking time to consider the implications of such events and to come to terms with the different futures we are now facing. A busy work schedule can keep us from having to look at things we find difficult, giving us an excuse for avoiding challenging or troublesome aspects of our lives.  When we do not have specific work to do, keeping busy can fulfill the same function.

From childhood we are encouraged to be busy by having our time scheduled, both at school and play, with few opportunities for day-dreaming.  People who have recently retired from full-time employment often report feeling dislocated and may even start to question their value as citizens or their roles within the family.  It can take some people several years to find a new rhythm and sense of values, while others may never achieve this.

Types of people and animals are characterized as being lazy because they appear to be doing very little or their physical appearance seems evidence of a lack of activity.  This is the opposite of busy.  To confess to doing nothing or having nothing to do would seem to be an admission of a failure to fully engage with the world.  The language of guilt is easily applied and only evidence of ceaseless activity can overcome it.

Perhaps it is only during our holidays away from employment that we can legitimately cease being busy.  Yet lazy days on a beach can be re-framed as getting a sun tan, creating an intention out of what seemed at one time to be passivity.  The perpetually busy will be busy enjoying themselves when they are not busy working.

There used to be a negative caricature of the busybody who devotes their time to involving themselves, usually unwanted, in the lives of others.  Having been consigned to period fiction and replaced with the more positive busy bee tirelessly carrying out their tasks is perhaps evidence of the rehabilitation of busyness.  

The similarity to the word business, which has become the accepted narrative for describing all areas of daily life, may mean that common criteria are being applied.  It is enough that we are busy.  There is no requirement to validate, or even describe, the specific tasks or their outcome.

It is important that we continue to distinguish between worthwhile activity and what is merely a distraction. Through endless application of the business model, financial cost or reward has become a significant arbiter of value for all our activities, but there are many other criteria that can be applied.  I wonder about the importance of effort, whether physical or mental, in qualifying time spent usefully.  There is a difference between working hard and being busy, and while some forms of effort can be compared others will only ever have a value specific to each person.  We no longer care to consider intrinsic value, but choose instead to rely on a collective sense of busyness, or business, as the only justification we need for how we pass the time.  Our validity and status is becoming based upon what we are, instead of the impact and value of what we do.

Perhaps the Myth of Being Busy is that it keeps us from having to consider the true value of how we spend our precious time and what is important in our lives as a whole.

© 2015 Michael Golding

We use the words Past, Present and Future as ways of describing what has happened, what is happening and what may happen to us.   We cannot change the Past, although we can reimagine or reinterpret what has happened so that it seems to have been different from what it was.   We can affect the future, but only by the way we choose to act in the Present.  Our ability to directly affect our own futures is limited as there are a multitude of factors outside of our control, and perhaps even our understanding, that combine to impact upon what happens to us.

However what is happening to us now is the result, to some degree, of actions we took in the past, which was of course our present at the time those actions took place.  It is interesting to consider to what extent what we are presently experiencing is the direct result of choices we made in the past and what is happening without any apparent involvement or consideration from us.

There is a future that will come to pass if we do nothing different from what we are currently doing.  This can be called the Default Future.  Each change we make to our actions in the present will create a new default future, which will then be what comes to pass if we continue with this new behaviour. 

At a simple level this is like buying a lottery ticket so that you are included in the draw.  If you do not buy a ticket then a win is unlikely to be part of your default future, though you may still be included in another’s success.  Within the limits of our ability to influence, is there more that we can do to increase the likelihood of the outcome that we are hoping for?

For me a good starting point is to know what we want that future present to be.  We can then identify those actions to be taken in our real-time present that will be most likely to bring about the future present that we desire.  I would describe this as intention, as we are deliberately choosing to affect our default future by changing what we are doing in the present.

I believe that focusing on intention is important as it promotes a stronger sense of engagement in our lives which can also counter feelings of alienation.   The power of intention can apply equally whether we decide to let go and blow with the wind or take deliberate steps to create future opportunities for ourselves.

There is a challenge in trying to fully understand the specific details of the future experience we are hoping to have in our future present, though such knowledge is vital if we are to increase the likelihood of it coming to pass.  This also assumes that we believe we are sufficiently in control of our present so that we are able to act upon our own intention rather than succumbing to the intentions of others.

This might help us to understand feelings of a lack of control that sometimes overwhelm us.   As children we are expected to spend much of our time studying subjects we are told will bring us future benefits.  This possibility of improving our default future through specific efforts in the present is based on trust.  Children do not have the knowledge or experience to assess the likely impact of trading one set of time for another; one real and one that can only be imagined.  For many children traditional school style learning becomes mostly about the future and can seem dislocated from their present experiences.  I wonder if the most successful students are those who are able to find pleasure in those activities undertaken in the present that may also lead to a more satisfying future? 

The balance between enjoying the present and planning for the future changes from when we are children through to adulthood, as we learn more about the costs associated with this trade-off.  Is there something about this shifting balance that can motivate when it works yet create despondency and even depression when it does not?

Disappointment in the future that did not meet our expectations can lead to crisis, particularly when the investment was high.  Were we misled about the potential outcome, or did we fail to understand what it was about the imagined future that we sought and so invested in the wrong aspects of that future, or possibly in the wrong future altogether?

How much of our current time do we invest in ensuring that our experience in the future is the best it can be, and how can we be sure that this will be better than the default future?  Perhaps the present is too precious to be taken up with endless planning for a maybe future, and only when the time spent brings value in the present is it worth investing? 

When we know what we truly want to happen we can use our intention to shape our default futures.  When we are unsure of what we really want, that same intention can allow us to hold back so that the default future can be allowed to become our present.

© 2015 Michael Golding