I'm working, it's morning, and I have a desire to do something non-productive, pleasurable, interesting. Get a snack, read an unrelated book, do a no-brain task that I should save for the afternoon surf the web, etc. I decide not to. Immediately the urgency increases. It almost feels like I'm drowning. Somewhere, deep down in an illogical but powerful part of my brainstem is the belief that if I don't satisfy this desire, something horrible is going to happen to me. I need this tidbit of information or I'll make a mistake in the future. I need to do this insignificant errand or I'll forget about it. I need to give myself this bit of pleasure or I will be forever hungry for it, distracted and craving.
Not true, not true. I recall this fact, and start breathing underwater. I keep doing whatever it was I was planning on doing. The call gets more intense, more urgent, but then, I realize, I discover that yes, I can still breath. Life is going on just fine now, without catering to my every impulsive whim. I am not miserable and deprived. I am just...normal. About the same as if I had gratified it.
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| (The article this picture is from is relevant, link here. The summary of scientific findings is good.) |
This underwater breathing is fascinating. This is a new discovery for me, though I can only assume for the majority of people with good self-control, it's common. Well... no, maybe not. I think at least some of people perceived as having "good self control" have it because of abject terror. Fear. They are terrified of not making rent, of being seen as incompetent, of living a worthless life, something along those lines. It then is not really an exercise in willpower. They are going with the current (of fear), not against it. If the external fear was taken away somehow, they would likely revert to a less motivated state.
And there's nothing wrong with that. Most of motivation is not going against the flow, it's using a bit of willpower to set up systems and thought structures that redirect the flow towards where you want to go, so you don't have to use willpower. (The linked article talks about one of many facets of that a little)
I'm sad it took me so long to figure out this breathing underwater, sense-control thing, though. Wasted time.
I think another way to describe it (and I'm trying my best to explain it in a way past-me could understand, so others don't have to take the long route that I did to understanding) is it's like how our thoughts about injury effect our experience of injury.
You can see this especially clearly in little kids. One falls and scrapes their knee, but they're in the middle of a game of tag, and they just get up and keep running. Or, they fall and scrape their knee, look to see if anyone see's them, thinks they'd gone unnoticed, and continue on their way. Or, they fall, scrape their knee, they're sitting there, silent, trying to figure out how they feel about all this, and then an adult rushes over with an alarmed "oh no!" and they start crying loudly.
But it happens with adults too. I used to be terrified of blood tests and shots. cold sweat, terrified. It was an excruciating experience, every time I had to get one. Then, as I got older, I started remembering that every time I got a shot, as soon as it was over, I felt just fine. I decided I wasn't going to be afraid of them any more, and I looked directly at the needle as it went in, noticing with curiosity the pinch-like, minor pain. Noticing with curiosity the remnants of my fear, in my increased heart rate and nervousness. There was nothing about the sensations of the shot itself that was particularly terrifying. It was just a pinch. Stubbing my toe hurt more. It was all my thoughts surrounding the shot, about the meaning, the anticipation, imagining it going into me, that made it such an unpleasant experience.
This sense control/discipline thing is the same way. It is the thoughts I have about denying myself sense-gratification, that makes it so repellant to me, so difficult to get myself to do. The act of doing it, sans the stories about it is a minor discomfort, nothing more.
Point of refinement: this sense control thing is not suppression. More like redirection (which we do all the time with kids, to great effect.) I admit that trying to push down a desire or thought is counter productive. All that energy just gets stored like a spring-snake in a can of mixed nuts, ready to pop out full force at the next opportunity.
We can't stop ourselves from having thoughts and feelings, but we do have the choice of what we put our attention on, and we do have a choice about what actions we do. I think the best thing to do is cordially, respectfully acknowledge whatever the thought/feeling is, accept that it's there non-judgmentally, and then let it go. Don't push it away, just let it go, drop it like it's (a) hot (potato), and put your focus back where you want it. It may come back, like a venturesome fly, but you can just keep doing that process, and eventually it will go away. And if you keep doing that, it comes back less and less frequently, and less strongly. Though sometimes initially it gets more intense before dying down. Kind of like a someone who realizes they're about to be removed, desperately fighting and struggling to stay.
I think this is precisely the practice you do when you meditate: you have a focus, whether it's a candle or a mantra or an image etc, and your job is to keep your focus there, gently. Thoughts come, and you persistently but not aggressively direct your attention back to your chosen focus. Meditation strengthens that mental muscle, which is super useful, but I know a lot of people who don't take advantage of that strength in their normal day-to-day life, which seems like a waste. It happens passively, but with conscious practice it would happen more often.
Amusing aside and honesty: I'm still a beginner, who makes lots of mistakes: cue two and a half hour youtube aside that started with me looking for images to go along with this post. Stopping once I've accidentally already started is much more difficult. An once of prevention and all that.
Ah well. Dust myself off, get up, begin again.
