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after 3 months, i finally finished reading mihaly csikszentmihalyi's "flow".
it's not a long text, and it shouldn't have taken me so long, but i found it difficult to push through even though i was invested in reading it. eventually i only made it through by allowing myself to skim portions that didn't interest me - for instance, a portion on amateur science.
it is ironic because reading is a source of flow, and i found myself feeling guilty exactly about that as i was reading the portions about teenagers (people) who cannot appreciate their own solitude and boredom, who seek out the easy entertainment of tv and social companionship. that's me to a T - restless and ill disciplined and perpetually distracted and seeking a inner source of companionship and entertainment only recently.
that's why i am reading "flow" in the first place. i am grappling with the concept of rest, beyond the physical act of being horizontal and doing nothing. the concept of rest also involves an emotional and mental dimension, and that is the domain i struggle the most with. i have somehow operated some 30+ years only knowing how to expend energy and focus, and not knowing how to fill my tank again. little wonder that i have burnt out again and again, and emptied out so wholly that it left me cored and brittle.
in any case, activities that give one a sense of flow are ostensibly what will top one's mental and emotional fuel tanks up. i borrowed this text from my therapist's clinic in an attempt to better understand the concept, to identify it and see how to harness it, to have an idea of where all this is supposed to go.
it's been fruitful in those regards. when i first started reading this book, the only activity i knew for sure gave me a sense of flow was playing the piano. now i feel sure that my work gives me flow; but writing, actually, doesn't - i am always too tightly conscious of the passage of time, and how many words i have produced. neither does reading, actually. gardening does, and so does cooking - i can do those for hours, and not feel pain until i stop (which is what happened recently when i strained my back while repotting plants). climbing too, probably - and climbing is one of the first few examples frequently mentioned by csikszentmihalyi (back in 1986).
looking at this list, it strikes me that many of these are physical activities, that require my hands to be moving, and i feel that level of hand-eye or hand-leg coordination is what is needed to concentrate my attention. i have known since my schooldays that i am kinesthetic learner; i wonder now how much of this is because i began playing the piano as early as i began to read and write. and i was always an active kid, who loved to run and skate and be free.
another dimension of this that interests me is memory, and relatedly, language. by coincidence i had lunch yesterday with a college friend who is pursuing his doctorate in the memorisation of poetry. he is motivated by its pedagogical applications, but we discussed at length the emotional comfort of being able to recall a loved poem or song, in times of boredom or hardship. csikszentmihalyi mentions this too, about how icelanders have a high rate of self-publishing as a result of high creative literacy, which begins from using poetry as a companion to make sense and tide through the long, terrible winter. he also mentions it in the context of surviving interminable detention and torture. my friend and i extended the conversation, as is our wont, to the practice of the memorisation and the recitation of the quran, not only for its intended didactic purpose, but also its secondary benefit of being an easy source of comfort for believers during times of distress.
his studies interested me greatly because i have never been able to memorise a poem in my life. the closest i have ever come to successfully doing so is jabberwocky, but i am certainly not reaching for "one, two! one, two!; and through and through, his vorpal blade went snicker-snack!" in times of agony. (or am i? this might explain a lot, come to think of it.) i have always put it down to a lack of attention span, but i inspected that hesitation a little closer yesterday and realised it is also because i don't know where to even begin. also i find it hard to keep my mind on words on a page. they simply slip away.
i return to the kinesthetic learning. i have a much better memory for things that are said rather than things i have read. i used to be able to recall lines almost perfectly after watching a play once. i can remember nuances of tv dialogue months after watching the episode. there is, perhaps, an audio or visual element that i need in order to remember words. i also suspect my body also has to be present and living through it as an experience.
which takes me to why i find the memory/language dimension of this interesting. because i find memorising piano pieces much easier than memorising poetry. except that is not exactly right, because i don't consider what i do as recollection, when i play a song from memory. instead it is a mix of muscle memory, and hearing the song in my head and recreating the sounds on the piano as i go. the latter is only possible because i have perfect pitch, which gives me a direct access path from ear to hands.
now that i'm arranging a lot of bts and svt music on the piano, i am feeling this keenly. a lot of these arrangements don't exist on paper, which means as i'm making decisions on what to do for each part i am working entirely every without reference, and every time i play them i am necessarily playing them from memory. except my memory is actually not that great so i feel like i am just hearing the song in my head and recreating it on the instrument, which means there is a chance it is a little different each time. (and in fact, i locked down a see/saw arrangement months ago, but today i tinkered with one of the middle verses again.) what helps each recreation not be made anew is the muscle memory from all the previous times i have played, and my own personal limitations in technique as an amateur pianist.
and bringing all these disparate thoughts together makes me wonder, what does this mean for the language that has primacy in my head, for the ways i wish to express myself? i am only just beginning to realise that it is probably not one coded in words, but in music.
it's not a long text, and it shouldn't have taken me so long, but i found it difficult to push through even though i was invested in reading it. eventually i only made it through by allowing myself to skim portions that didn't interest me - for instance, a portion on amateur science.
it is ironic because reading is a source of flow, and i found myself feeling guilty exactly about that as i was reading the portions about teenagers (people) who cannot appreciate their own solitude and boredom, who seek out the easy entertainment of tv and social companionship. that's me to a T - restless and ill disciplined and perpetually distracted and seeking a inner source of companionship and entertainment only recently.
that's why i am reading "flow" in the first place. i am grappling with the concept of rest, beyond the physical act of being horizontal and doing nothing. the concept of rest also involves an emotional and mental dimension, and that is the domain i struggle the most with. i have somehow operated some 30+ years only knowing how to expend energy and focus, and not knowing how to fill my tank again. little wonder that i have burnt out again and again, and emptied out so wholly that it left me cored and brittle.
in any case, activities that give one a sense of flow are ostensibly what will top one's mental and emotional fuel tanks up. i borrowed this text from my therapist's clinic in an attempt to better understand the concept, to identify it and see how to harness it, to have an idea of where all this is supposed to go.
it's been fruitful in those regards. when i first started reading this book, the only activity i knew for sure gave me a sense of flow was playing the piano. now i feel sure that my work gives me flow; but writing, actually, doesn't - i am always too tightly conscious of the passage of time, and how many words i have produced. neither does reading, actually. gardening does, and so does cooking - i can do those for hours, and not feel pain until i stop (which is what happened recently when i strained my back while repotting plants). climbing too, probably - and climbing is one of the first few examples frequently mentioned by csikszentmihalyi (back in 1986).
looking at this list, it strikes me that many of these are physical activities, that require my hands to be moving, and i feel that level of hand-eye or hand-leg coordination is what is needed to concentrate my attention. i have known since my schooldays that i am kinesthetic learner; i wonder now how much of this is because i began playing the piano as early as i began to read and write. and i was always an active kid, who loved to run and skate and be free.
another dimension of this that interests me is memory, and relatedly, language. by coincidence i had lunch yesterday with a college friend who is pursuing his doctorate in the memorisation of poetry. he is motivated by its pedagogical applications, but we discussed at length the emotional comfort of being able to recall a loved poem or song, in times of boredom or hardship. csikszentmihalyi mentions this too, about how icelanders have a high rate of self-publishing as a result of high creative literacy, which begins from using poetry as a companion to make sense and tide through the long, terrible winter. he also mentions it in the context of surviving interminable detention and torture. my friend and i extended the conversation, as is our wont, to the practice of the memorisation and the recitation of the quran, not only for its intended didactic purpose, but also its secondary benefit of being an easy source of comfort for believers during times of distress.
his studies interested me greatly because i have never been able to memorise a poem in my life. the closest i have ever come to successfully doing so is jabberwocky, but i am certainly not reaching for "one, two! one, two!; and through and through, his vorpal blade went snicker-snack!" in times of agony. (or am i? this might explain a lot, come to think of it.) i have always put it down to a lack of attention span, but i inspected that hesitation a little closer yesterday and realised it is also because i don't know where to even begin. also i find it hard to keep my mind on words on a page. they simply slip away.
i return to the kinesthetic learning. i have a much better memory for things that are said rather than things i have read. i used to be able to recall lines almost perfectly after watching a play once. i can remember nuances of tv dialogue months after watching the episode. there is, perhaps, an audio or visual element that i need in order to remember words. i also suspect my body also has to be present and living through it as an experience.
which takes me to why i find the memory/language dimension of this interesting. because i find memorising piano pieces much easier than memorising poetry. except that is not exactly right, because i don't consider what i do as recollection, when i play a song from memory. instead it is a mix of muscle memory, and hearing the song in my head and recreating the sounds on the piano as i go. the latter is only possible because i have perfect pitch, which gives me a direct access path from ear to hands.
now that i'm arranging a lot of bts and svt music on the piano, i am feeling this keenly. a lot of these arrangements don't exist on paper, which means as i'm making decisions on what to do for each part i am working entirely every without reference, and every time i play them i am necessarily playing them from memory. except my memory is actually not that great so i feel like i am just hearing the song in my head and recreating it on the instrument, which means there is a chance it is a little different each time. (and in fact, i locked down a see/saw arrangement months ago, but today i tinkered with one of the middle verses again.) what helps each recreation not be made anew is the muscle memory from all the previous times i have played, and my own personal limitations in technique as an amateur pianist.
and bringing all these disparate thoughts together makes me wonder, what does this mean for the language that has primacy in my head, for the ways i wish to express myself? i am only just beginning to realise that it is probably not one coded in words, but in music.
