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

It would be easy to assume that because we use the same vocabulary as our colleagues, friends and family that we all share a common language.  Our experience would seem to confirm this as we are able to communicate reasonably effectively with one another most of the time. 

However, much of what we routinely express only requires a broad brush without the need for nuanced detail.  When the message is more personal or complex, or the need for accuracy more acute, it may be harder to make ourselves understood.  Conversely, there are also times when we might fail to fully appreciate what is being said to us.

Successful communication is not about having a broad vocabulary and a good grasp of grammar.  Words are just one element, with the beliefs and emotions that lie behind them having equal importance.

For example a power differential will affect the value of the words being expressed.  The needs or wants of one person may override those of another, even when the same vocabulary is being used.  This could reflect an acceptable and recognised organisational hierarchy or one that is being covertly imposed.

It is not always the case that being fully understood by others is the main objective.  Sometimes people simply wish to be heard, to give their speech while others take a supporting role to the main drama.  In this case the deeper meaning lies even less in the words that are used than in the intention behind them.

The meanings of words are not restricted to those provided by dictionaries.  Regional differences in the use of language are well-known, but more importantly there are individual differences.  Appreciating all of the meanings that particular words may have for an individual paves the route that connects us.  This requires us to put our assumptions to one side so that we can identify and agree specific contextual meanings.  Confusion is often the result of incongruence between the words that are used and the meanings, or the assumed meanings, we ascribe to them. 

Authenticity is all important and if the message continues to be confused, then that may be all that can be communicated at the time.  For me it is very important that we develop our own authentic script, not take lines that we have inherited from other people in other contexts.  

I believe that intention is rooted in our beliefs and our emotions.  When these do not align with our words it is possible for two people to appear to be following the same course in their conversation, but as they are not using the same map arrive at very different destinations.  Neither has sought to check for common reference points along the way.  Had this occurred then it would have been apparent they were not journeying together and that their connection was superficial.

In all cases there will be an initial response to what is being said, which can assist or become a barrier to understanding and fully connecting with the speaker.  If there are hidden feelings or intentions, there is every chance they will be noticed and any contradiction with those that are being expressed will cause confusion.  This may lead to hostility, but will certainly result in a mixed message being communicated and the risk that one or the other will erroneously fill in the blanks. 

When speaking positively perhaps the emotion overrides any need for detail so that compliments may not require much clarification.  This may also be the case when we are being negative.  However if our intention is to offer a route for improvement, rather than simply to punish, it is important that the detail is communicated in a way that can be accepted.   Whatever roles we inhabit, there will always be times when it is necessary to be able to criticise and be understood without encouraging intrusive negative emotions in the other.

Within specific relationships many of us develop a language of intimacy over time which involves taking a series of small risks as we explore and share meanings.  Just as we develop a language of intimacy and friendship, we need also to agree a language of dissent so that we can communicate our dissatisfaction, or even anger, in a way that is properly heard and understood.

Short words like love and hate can have a multiplicity of meanings, in effect a specific set for each of us.  To really understand what is meant by what is being said, we need to take the time to understand as closely as possible what each word means for the other person.  This applies equally to the speaker and the listener, which is where the negotiating begins.  While you try to understand exactly what my spoken words mean for me, I endeavour to use words in a way that I know will have a particular meaning for you.

We cannot control how our messages are received.  We can make sure that the messages we are sending match our intention and are constructed to maximize the likelihood of being understood.  In this way communication can deepen, whatever the content, and mutual understanding can grow.

What is our intention and how accurately does it reflect our authentic feelings?  What is there in the other person that we might need to take account of to reduce any obstacles to the exchange?   The answers come from paying attention to the way another person talks and listens and being fully aware of how they are responding in real time to all that is being said.

Conversation is a dynamic process with many opportunities to check meanings through explicit questions and by monitoring responses.  Let us not assume that we know all of what is being said to us.  Let us recognize the need to confirm our understanding and to be willing to renegotiate language again and again to achieve the shared meaning that will bring us closer to each other.

© 2014 Michael Golding

People have long used models, metaphors and constructs as a way of trying to understand and explain the inner and outer worlds that we experience.  These can be physical models to describe the natural world we inhabit, or abstract models to attempt to describe the less tangible aspects of our lives. 

Some of these physical models, such as those depicting the relationship between the planets in our solar system, have been influenced by political and religious beliefs.  Labelling copper spheres and placing them in a particular order does not change the reality of planetary orbits, but does affect our perception of them. Over time these have been verified through scientific observation and amended if needed and when societal pressures allowed.  Abstract models are even more susceptible to political and religious influence as they are harder to prove.

Among each new wave of influencers, whether philosophers, physicians or politicians, are those who wish to cordon off an area of what they believe to be unique understanding.  Each new paradigm creates a fresh discourse which is supported by a new set of models, metaphors and constructs.  Putting it another way, each new way of looking at things leads to a new way of talking about them which often seems to require a language of its own.  If the central idea becomes generally accepted then so do the terms used to describe them and any mechanisms used to illustrate and explain.

An example would be Sigmund Freud's description of the Ego, the Super-Ego and the Id.  Many people, not just psychoanalysts, continue to use these words as nouns, which makes it easy to believe that they are describing real things.  They will refer to them as influencing or even directing our behaviour in such a way that while they are part of us they are also apart from us.  However, these are only constructs.   It would be far more accurate to refer to the Concept Freud called the Ego.  Clearly there is a need for short-hand but one that can be used without losing sight of the actual meaning.

Part of the legacy of Freud and his contemporaries is to have carried over the discourse of physical medicine into the abstract realm of our mental processes.  The proliferation of single nouns to describe ever more complex collections of feelings and behaviours now underpins an industry that has a significant impact on millions of people as well as generating huge profits for many of those involved.  

Applying the words health, illness and disease to our mental state suggests a direct comparison with our physical state.  However, these are only metaphors.  It is clear that we do not have a mental illness in the same way that we might have a physical illness.  While it can be helpful to use language that is understood in one setting to explain another, there is the risk that we will then make assumptions about the second based on our knowledge of the first.  This is clearly the case in the way we generally approach mental     dis-ease.  The metaphors become constructs before solidifying into accepted models.

We have long had an interest in trying to categorise ourselves and others through the use of IQ and Personality Tests.   The so-called Intelligence Quotient has a dark history rooted in the attempt to discriminate between ethnic groups in favour of the home team.  Like many experiments, it set up parameters and then measured people’s ability to meet their requirements.  When the objective is to identify people with a certain set of skills and abilities the process is relatively benign.  However, when certain parameters are elevated over others we are in danger of creating a hierarchy of winners and losers that is based on cultural values expressed as absolute values. 

Politicians frequently reduce their arguments to a case of either/or and good and bad, splitting the population between those who are for and those against.  Too often the explanation involves the simplification of a complex narrative that seems intended to make it easier for us to understand, but which also allows a bias to be embedded within.  

These many forms of illustration are a way in, a step towards understanding a more complex scenario. However once we are inside the view can be expanded, so that as we understand more the illustration gives way to the thing itself.  As we develop the skills to navigate we no longer need the short-cut.

I think it is important to remember that models, constructs and metaphors are tools that are used to help us understand complex ideas.  However they can never fully describe or explain them, are not a substitute and can never be a replacement.  I would agree with the principle that first there is the thing and then there is the name for it and that there is already one thing too many.

By appreciating the way that models, constructs and metaphors are being used we can separate the words from the things themselves and come to our own conclusions as to their meaning and value.  It is possible to acknowledge their usefulness as a way of helping us to understand, without succumbing to their tyranny as a way for other people to tell us how things are. 

© 2014 Michael Golding