How to Focus: Five Talks Reveal the Secrets of Concentration

Dis­agree though we may about what’s wrong with life in the 21st cen­tu­ry, all of us — at least in the devel­oped, high tech-sat­u­rat­ed parts of the world — sure­ly come togeth­er in lament­ing our inabil­i­ty to focus. We keep hear­ing how dis­trac­tions of all kinds, but espe­cial­ly those deliv­ered by social media, frag­ment our atten­tion into thou­sands of lit­tle pieces, pre­vent­ing us from com­plet­ing or even start­ing the kind of noble long-term endeav­ors under­tak­en by our ances­tors. But even if that diag­no­sis is accu­rate, we might won­der, how does it all work? These five video talks offer not just insights into the nuts and bolts of atten­tion, con­cen­tra­tion, and focus, but sug­ges­tions about how we might tight­en our own as well.

In “How to Get Your Brain to Focus,” the TED Talk at the top of the post, Hyper­fo­cus author Chris Bai­ley relates how his own life devolved into a morn­ing-noon-night “series of screens,” and what result­ed when he did away with some of those screens and the dis­trac­tions they unceas­ing­ly pre­sent­ed him — or rather, the over­stim­u­la­tion they inflict­ed on him: “We think that our brains are dis­tract­ed,” he says, “but they’re over­stim­u­lat­ed.”

Reduc­ing his own lev­el of stim­u­la­tion fur­ther still, he delib­er­ate­ly engaged in such low-stim­u­la­tion (more com­mon­ly known as “bor­ing”) prac­tices as read­ing iTunes’ entire terms-and-con­di­tions doc­u­ment (and not in graph­ic-nov­el form), wait­ing on hold with Air Canada’s bag­gage depart­ment, count­ing the zeroes in pi, and final­ly just watch­ing a clock.

Bai­ley found that, absent the fre­quent dopamine hits pro­vid­ed by his screens, his atten­tion span grew and more ideas, plans, and thoughts about the future came to him. “We think that we need to fit more in,” he says, but in real­i­ty “we’re doing too much, so much that our mind nev­er wan­ders.” When we have noth­ing in par­tic­u­lar to focus on, our mind finds its way into new ter­ri­to­ries: hence, he says, the fact that we so often get our best ideas in the show­er. He ref­er­ences data indi­cat­ing that these men­tal wan­der­ings take us back into the past 12 per­cent of the time and remain in the present 28 per­cent of the time, but most often fast-for­ward into the future, a habit also explored by neu­ro­sci­en­tist Amishi Jha in the TED Talk just above, “How to Tame Your Wan­der­ing Mind.”

“Our mind is an exquis­ite time-trav­el­ing mas­ter,” says Jha, “and we land in this men­tal time-trav­el mode of the past or the future very fre­quent­ly. “And when this hap­pens, when we mind-wan­der with­out an aware­ness that we’re doing it, there are con­se­quences. We make errors. We miss crit­i­cal infor­ma­tion, some­times. And we have dif­fi­cul­ty mak­ing deci­sions.” In Jha’s view, a wan­der­ing mind can be dan­ger­ous: she labels its “inter­nal dis­trac­tion” as one of the three fac­tors, along­side exter­nal stress and dis­trac­tion in the envi­ron­ment, that “dimin­ish­es atten­tion’s pow­er.” Her lab­o­ra­to­ry research has brought her to endorse the solu­tion of “mind­ful­ness prac­tice,” which “has to do with pay­ing atten­tion to our present-moment expe­ri­ence with aware­ness. And with­out any kind of emo­tion­al reac­tiv­i­ty of what’s hap­pen­ing,” keep­ing our fin­ger on the “play” but­ton “to expe­ri­ence the moment-to-moment unfold­ing of our lives.”

As a mind­ful­ness prac­tice, med­i­ta­tion does the trick for many, although pre­ci­sion shoot­ing cham­pi­on Christi­na Bengts­son rec­om­mends star­ing at leaves. “I focused on a beau­ti­ful autumn leaf play­ing in the wind,” she says of her deci­sive shot in her TED Talk above. “Sud­den­ly I am com­plete­ly calm, and the world cham­pi­on title was mine.” That leaf, she says, “relieved me of dis­tract­ing thoughts and made me focus,” and the expe­ri­ence led her to come up with a broad­er the­o­ry. “We need to learn to notice dis­turb­ing thoughts and to dis­tin­guish them from not-dis­turb­ing thoughts,” she says, a not-dis­turb­ing thought being one that “knocks out all the dis­turb­ing and wor­ry­ing thoughts.” In this frame­work, the thought of a leaf can drain the dis­tract­ing pow­er from all those nag­ging what-ifs about our goals and the future ahead.

“Focus is not about becom­ing some­thing new or some­thing bet­ter, but sim­ply about func­tion­ing exact­ly as well as we already are,” says Bengts­son, “and under­stand­ing that this is enough for both gen­er­al hap­pi­ness and great achieve­ments.” Among her oth­er, non-leaf-relat­ed rec­om­men­da­tions is to cre­ate a “not-to-do list,” a form suit­ed to a world “no longer about pri­or­i­tiz­ing, but about pri­or­i­tiz­ing away.” The not-to-do list also gets a strong endorse­ment in “How to Focus Intense­ly,” the Free­dom in Thought ani­mat­ed video just above. After open­ing with an elab­o­rate anal­o­gy about robots, box­es, and fac­to­ry fires, it goes on to break down the key trade­off of atten­tion: on one side direct­ed focus, “pro­vid­ing undi­vid­ed atten­tion while ignor­ing envi­ron­men­tal stim­uli,” and on the oth­er gen­er­al­ized focus, which does the oppo­site.

We human beings often don’t make that trade­off adept­ly, and the rea­sons cit­ed here include stress, engage­ment in tasks we dis­like because they aren’t inher­ent­ly plea­sur­able (even when they promise plea­sures lat­er on, since the arrival of those plea­sures can be uncer­tain), and the habit of short-term plea­sure-seek­ing. Along with med­i­ta­tion and the not-to-do list come oth­er fea­tured strate­gies like active­ly plac­ing bound­aries on your media con­sump­tion, struc­tur­ing your day with “blocks” of work sep­a­rat­ed by short breaks, and draw­ing up a pri­or­i­ty list, all while adher­ing to the gen­er­al ratio of spend­ing 80 per­cent of your time on “activ­i­ties that pro­duce long-term plea­sure” and 20 per­cent on “activ­i­ties that pro­duce short-term plea­sure.”

The Free­dom in Thought video also rec­om­mends some­thing called “deep work,” a set of tech­niques defined by com­put­er sci­en­tist Cal New­port in his book of the same name. But to do deep work as New­port him­self does it requires that you take a step that may sound rad­i­cal at first: quit social media. That imper­a­tive pro­vides the title of New­port’s TED Talk above, which explains the whys and hows of doing just that. He also deals with the com­mon objec­tions to the notion of quit­ting social media, fram­ing social media itself as just anoth­er slot machine-like form of enter­tain­ment — with all the atten­dant psy­cho­log­i­cal harms — that, because of its sheer com­mon­ness and eas­i­ness, can hard­ly be as vital to suc­cess in the 21st-cen­tu­ry econ­o­my as it’s so often claimed to be.

New­port explains that “what the mar­ket dis­miss­es, for the most part, are activ­i­ties that are easy to repli­cate and pro­duce a small amount of val­ue,” i.e. what most of us spend our days doing on Twit­ter, Face­book, and Insta­gram. “It’s instead going to reward the deep, con­cen­trat­ed work required to build real skills and apply those skills to pro­duce things, like a crafts­man, that are rare and are valu­able.” If you treat your atten­tion with respect, he says, “when it comes time to work, you can actu­al­ly do one thing after anoth­er, and do it with inten­si­ty, and inten­si­ty can be trad­ed for time.” When you train your mind away from dis­trac­tion, in oth­er words, you actu­al­ly end up with more time to work with — an asset that even Bill Gates and War­ren Buf­fett, both of whom famous­ly cred­it their own suc­cess to focus, can’t buy for them­selves.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Infor­ma­tion Over­load Robs Us of Our Cre­ativ­i­ty: What the Sci­en­tif­ic Research Shows

The Case for Delet­ing Your Social Media Accounts & Doing Valu­able “Deep Work” Instead, Accord­ing to Prof. Cal New­port

The Neu­ro­science & Psy­chol­o­gy of Pro­cras­ti­na­tion, and How to Over­come It

Alan Watts Presents a 15-Minute Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tion: A Time-Test­ed Way to Stop Think­ing About Think­ing

Lis­ten to Wake Up to Your Life: Dis­cov­er­ing the Bud­dhist Path of Atten­tion by Ken McLeod

How to Take Advan­tage of Bore­dom, the Secret Ingre­di­ent of Cre­ativ­i­ty

Lyn­da Bar­ry on How the Smart­phone Is Endan­ger­ing Three Ingre­di­ents of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Lone­li­ness, Uncer­tain­ty & Bore­dom

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

An Artist Crochets a Life-Size, Anatomically-Correct Skeleton, Complete with Organs

How to make a life-sized fac­sim­i­le of a human skele­ton:

  1. Down­load files pub­lished under a Cre­ative Com­mons license, and arrange to have them 3‑D print­ed.

or

  1. Do as artist Shanell Papp did, above, and cro­chet one.

The lat­ter will take con­sid­er­ably more time and atten­tion on your part. Papp gave up all extracur­ric­u­lar activ­i­ties for four months to hook the woolen skele­ton around her work and school sched­ule. Equip­ping it with inter­nal organs ate up anoth­er four.

To ensure accu­ra­cy, Papp armed her­self with anatom­i­cal text­books and an actu­al human skele­ton on loan from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Leth­bridge, where she was an under­grad. The brain has gray and white mat­ter, there’s mar­row in the bones, the stom­ach con­tains half-digest­ed wool food, and the intestines can be unspooled to a real­is­tic length.

The gru­el­ing 2006 project did not exhaust her fas­ci­na­tion for the intri­ca­cies of human anato­my. The Uni­ver­si­ty of Saskatchewan grant­ed her open access to draw in the gross anato­my lab while she pur­sued her MFA.

 

As she told MICE mag­a­zine:

I want­ed this work to illus­trate all of the organs and bones every­one shares and to not high­light dif­fer­ences. Much of anatom­i­cal his­to­ry is about defin­ing dif­fer­ence, by com­par­a­tive analy­sis. This can set up strange tax­onomies and hier­ar­chies. I was­n’t inter­est­ed in par­tic­i­pat­ing in that; I want­ed to expose the frag­ile, com­mon, and unseen things in all of us.  

The fin­ished piece, which is dis­played supine on a gur­ney she nabbed for free dur­ing a mor­tu­ary ren­o­va­tion, incor­po­rates many of Papp’s oth­er abid­ing inter­ests: hor­ror, med­ical his­to­ry, Franken­stein, crime inves­ti­ga­tion, and mor­tu­ary prac­tices.

Papp, who taught her­self how to cro­chet from books as a child, using what­ev­er yarn found its way to her grandma’s junk shop, appre­ci­ates how her cho­sen medi­um adds a lay­er of homey soft­ness and famil­iar­i­ty to the macabre.

It’s also not lost on her that fiber arts, often dis­missed as too “crafty” by the estab­lish­ment, were an impor­tant com­po­nent of 70s-era fem­i­nist art, though in her view, her work is more of a state­ment on the his­to­ry of tex­tile man­u­fac­tur­ing, which is to say the his­to­ry of labor and class strug­gle.

See more of Shanell Papp’s work here.

All images in this post by Shanell Papp.

via design­boom/Mymod­ern­met

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold an Anatom­i­cal­ly Cor­rect Repli­ca of the Human Brain, Knit­ted by a Psy­chi­a­trist

The BBC Cre­ates Step-by-Step Instruc­tions for Knit­ting the Icon­ic Dr. Who Scarf: A Doc­u­ment from the Ear­ly 1980s

The Beau­ti­ful Math of Coral & Cro­chet

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inkyzine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, Sep­tem­ber 9 for anoth­er sea­son of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Sir Ian McKellen Reads Kurt Vonnegut’s Letter to High School Students: Make Art and “Make Your Soul Grow”

Author Kurt Von­negut was pos­sessed of a droll, unsen­ti­men­tal pub­lic speak­ing style. A son of Indi­anapo­lis, he nev­er lost his Hoosier accent, despite lengthy stints in Cape Cod and New York City.

Actor Ian McK­ellen, on the oth­er hand, exudes warmth. He’s a charmer who tells a sto­ry with a twin­kle in his eye, alter­ing his voice and facial expres­sions to height­en the effect. (Check out his Mag­gie Smith.) Vocal train­ing has only enhanced his beau­ti­ful instru­ment. (He can make a tire repair man­u­al sound like Shake­speare.)

These two lions may have come at their respec­tive crafts from dif­fer­ent angles, but Sir Ian did Von­negut proud, above, as part of Let­ters Live, an ongo­ing cel­e­bra­tion of the endur­ing pow­er of lit­er­ary cor­re­spon­dence.

The let­ter in ques­tion was penned the year before Vonnegut’s death, in reply to five stu­dents at a Jesuit high school in New York City, regret­ful­ly declin­ing their invi­ta­tion to vis­it.

Instead, he gave them two assign­ments.

One was fair­ly uni­ver­sal, the sort of thing one might encounter in a com­mence­ment address: make art and in so doing, learn about life, and your­self.

The oth­er was more con­crete:

Write a 6 line rhyming poem

Don’t show it or recite it to any­one.

Tear it up into lit­tle pieces

Dis­card the pieces in wide­ly sep­a­rat­ed trash recep­ta­cles

Why?

A chance for Xavier High School’s all male stu­dent body to air roman­tic feel­ings with­out fear of  dis­cov­ery or rejec­tion?

May­haps, but the true pur­pose of the sec­ond assign­ment is encap­su­lat­ed in the first—to “expe­ri­ence becom­ing” through a cre­ative act.

This notion clear­ly strikes a chord with Sir Ian, 17 years younger than Von­negut but by the time of the  2016 per­for­mance, clos­ing in on the igua­na-like age Von­negut had been when he wrote the let­ter.

Should we attribute the quiver on the clos­ing line to act­ing or gen­uine emo­tion on Sir Ian’s part?

Either way, it’s a love­ly ren­di­tion.

Novem­ber 5, 2006

Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lock­wood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Bat­ten, Mau­r­er and Con­gius­ta:

I thank you for your friend­ly let­ters. You sure know how to cheer up a real­ly old geezer (84) in his sun­set years. I don’t make pub­lic appear­ances any more because I now resem­ble noth­ing so much as an igua­na. 

What I had to say to you, more­over, would not take long, to wit: Prac­tice any art, music, singing, danc­ing, act­ing, draw­ing, paint­ing, sculpt­ing, poet­ry, fic­tion, essays, reportage, no mat­ter how well or bad­ly, not to get mon­ey and fame, but to expe­ri­ence becom­ing, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.

Seri­ous­ly! I mean start­ing right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a fun­ny or nice pic­ture of Ms. Lock­wood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the show­er and on and on. Make a face in your mashed pota­toes. Pre­tend you’re Count Drac­u­la.

Here’s an assign­ment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lock­wood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about any­thing, but rhymed. No fair ten­nis with­out a net. Make it as good as you pos­si­bly can. But don’t tell any­body what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to any­body, not even your girl­friend or par­ents or what­ev­er, or Ms. Lock­wood. OK?

Tear it up into tee­ny-wee­ny pieces, and dis­card them into wide­ly sep­a­rat­ed trash recep­ti­cals. You will find that you have already been glo­ri­ous­ly reward­ed for your poem. You have expe­ri­enced becom­ing, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.

God bless you all!

Kurt Von­negut

(Ian McKellen’s oth­er Let­ters Live per­for­mance is a fic­tion­al com­ing out let­ter from Armis­tead Maupin’s Tales of the City, from a gay char­ac­ter to his Ani­ta Bryant-sup­port­ing par­ents.)

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1988, Kurt Von­negut Writes a Let­ter to Peo­ple Liv­ing in 2088, Giv­ing 7 Pieces of Advice

Why Should We Read Kurt Von­negut? An Ani­mat­ed Video Makes the Case

Kurt Von­negut Offers 8 Tips on How to Write Good Short Sto­ries (and Amus­ing­ly Graphs the Shapes Those Sto­ries Can Take)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inkyzine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, Sep­tem­ber 9 for anoth­er sea­son of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Piano Played with 16 Increasing Levels of Complexity: From Easy to Very Complex

Remem­ber the feel­ing of accom­plish­ment as a child, pick­ing out a sim­ple tune after your first piano les­son?

Then the day you begin to play with both hands? So grown up.

Even­tu­al­ly you start using more than two fin­gers.

And then comes the par­ty where a proud par­ent, pos­si­bly with a drink or two in him, com­mands you to play for the guests, who indulge your efforts with applause and the sug­ges­tion that per­haps their child, a con­tem­po­rary of yours, take a turn at the key­board.

Mozart.

Beethoven.

Max­i­mum humil­i­a­tion.

How soon can you bail on those damn piano lessons?

I flashed on that uni­ver­sal expe­ri­ence whilst lis­ten­ing to pianist and com­pos­er Nahre Sol demon­strate the “end­less pos­si­bil­i­ties” of piano com­po­si­tion and inter­pre­ta­tion by sub­ject­ing “Hap­py Birth­day” to six­teen lev­els of increas­ing com­plex­i­ty.

‘Round about lev­el five is where our respec­tive tal­ents began to part ways.

After a lot of prac­tice and false starts, I can some­times man­age a sim­ple arpeg­gio.

That’s greasy kid stuff to Nahre, whose YouTube chan­nel abounds with expert advice on how to sound like var­i­ous clas­si­cal com­posers and robust inves­ti­ga­tions of gen­res—fla­men­co, rag­time, Bossa nova, the Blues…

Now I know what made the vis­i­tors’ kid so much more advanced than me—broken octaves, glis­san­dos, great mus­cu­lar spans, a con­fi­dent com­mand of har­monies and rhythm…

Sol blows that per­for­mance out of the water, with seem­ing­ly very lit­tle effort, breezi­ly explain­ing what she’s doing each time she takes things up a notch, cul­mi­nat­ing in lev­el 16, which encom­pass­es all pre­vi­ous steps.

As home­less­ricegum observes in the com­ment sec­tion of the video, “Lev­el 17: you will now need your third hand.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Con­cept of Musi­cal Har­mo­ny Explained in Five Lev­els of Dif­fi­cul­ty, Start­ing with a Child & End­ing with Her­bie Han­cock

Learn How to Read Sheet Music: A Quick, Fun, Tongue-in-Cheek Intro­duc­tion

A Vin­tage Grand Piano Gets Reengi­neered to Play 20 Dif­fer­ent Instru­ments with a Push of Its Keys

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inkyzine.  Join her in NYC on Sep­tem­ber 9 for anoth­er month­ly install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

 

Cartoonist Lynda Barry Teaches You How to Draw

Friend, are you par­a­lyzed by your iron­clad con­vic­tion that you can’t draw?

Pro­fes­sor Chew­bac­ca aka Pro­fes­sor Old Skull aka car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry has had quite enough of that non­sense!

So stop dis­sem­bling, grab a pen and a hand-sized piece of paper, and fol­low her instruc­tions to Anne Strain­champs, host of NPR’s To The Best Of Our Knowl­edge, below.

It’s bet­ter to throw your­self into it with­out know­ing pre­cise­ly what the ten minute exer­cise holds (oth­er than draw­ing, of course).

We know, we know, you can’t, except that you can. Like Strain­champs, you’re prob­a­bly just rusty.

Don’t judge your­self too harsh­ly if things look “ter­ri­ble.”

In Barry’s view, that’s rel­a­tive, par­tic­u­lar­ly if you were draw­ing with your eyes closed.

A neu­rol­o­gy nerd, Bar­ry cites Gir­i­ja Kaimal, Kendra Ray, and Juan Muniz’ study Reduc­tion of Cor­ti­sol Lev­els and Par­tic­i­pants’ Respons­es Fol­low­ing Art Mak­ing. It’s the action, not the sub­jec­tive artis­tic mer­it of what winds up on the page that counts in this regard.

For more of Barry’s exer­cis­es and delight­ful­ly droll pres­ence, check out this playlist on Dr. Michael Green’s Graph­ic Med­i­cine Chan­nel.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lyn­da Bar­ry on How the Smart­phone Is Endan­ger­ing Three Ingre­di­ents of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Lone­li­ness, Uncer­tain­ty & Bore­dom

Fol­low Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Barry’s 2017 “Mak­ing Comics” Class Online, Pre­sent­ed at UW-Wis­con­sin

Lyn­da Barry’s Illus­trat­ed Syl­labus & Home­work Assign­ments from Her New UW-Madi­son Course, “Mak­ing Comics”

Join Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry for a Uni­ver­si­ty-Lev­el Course on Doo­dling and Neu­ro­science

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine… Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Oliver Sacks Promotes the Healing Power of Gardens: They’re “More Powerful Than Any Medication”

Ear­ly Euro­pean explor­ers left the con­ti­nent with visions of gar­dens in their heads: The Gar­den of Eden, the Gar­den of the Hes­perides, and oth­er myth­ic realms of abun­dance, ease, and end­less repose. Those same explor­ers left sick­ness, war, and death only to find sick­ness, war, and death—much of it export­ed by them­selves. The gar­den became de-mythol­o­gized. Nat­ur­al phi­los­o­phy and mod­ern meth­ods of agri­cul­ture brought gar­dens fur­ther down to earth in the cul­tur­al imag­i­na­tion.

Yet the gar­den remained a spe­cial fig­ure in phi­los­o­phy, art, and lit­er­a­ture, a potent sym­bol of an ordered life and ordered mind. Voltaire’s Can­dide, the riotous satire filled with gar­dens both fan­tas­ti­cal and prac­ti­cal, famous­ly ends with the dic­tate, “we must cul­ti­vate our gar­den.” The ten­den­cy to read this line as strict­ly metaphor­i­cal does a dis­ser­vice to the intel­lec­tu­al cul­ture cre­at­ed by Voltaire and oth­er writ­ers of the peri­od—Alexan­der Pope most promi­nent among them—for whom gar­den­ing was a the­o­ry born of prac­tice.

Exiled from France in 1765, Voltaire retreat­ed to a vil­la in Gene­va called Les Délices, “The Delights.” There, writes Adam Gop­nik at The New York­er, he “quick­ly turned his exile into a desir­able con­di­tion…. When he wrote that it was our duty to cul­ti­vate our gar­den, he real­ly knew what it meant to cul­ti­vate a gar­den.” Enlight­en­ment poets and philoso­phers did not dwell on the sci­en­tif­ic rea­sons why gar­dens might have such salu­tary effects on the psy­che. And nei­ther does neu­rol­o­gist Oliv­er Sacks, who also wrote of gar­dens as health-bestow­ing havens from the chaos and noise of the world, and more specif­i­cal­ly, from the city and bru­tal com­mer­cial demands it rep­re­sents.

For Sacks that city was not Paris or Lon­don but, prin­ci­pal­ly, New York, where he lived, prac­ticed, and wrote for fifty years. Nonethe­less, in his essay “The Heal­ing Pow­er of Gar­dens,” he invokes the Euro­pean his­to­ry of gar­dens, from the medieval hor­tus to grand Enlight­en­ment botan­i­cal gar­dens like Kew, filled with exot­ic plants from “the Amer­i­c­as and the Ori­ent.” Sacks writes of his stu­dent days, where he “dis­cov­ered with delight a very dif­fer­ent garden—the Oxford Botan­ic Gar­den, one of the first walled gar­dens estab­lished in Europe,” found­ed in 1621.

“It pleased me to think,” he recalls, refer­ring to key Enlight­en­ment sci­en­tists, “that Boyle, Hooke, Willis and oth­er Oxford fig­ures might have walked and med­i­tat­ed there in the 17th cen­tu­ry.” In that time, cul­ti­vat­ed gar­dens were often the pri­vate pre­serves of land­ed gen­try. Now, places like the New York Botan­i­cal Gar­den, whose virtues Sacks extolls in the video above, are open to every­one. And it is a good thing, too. Because gar­dens can serve an essen­tial pub­lic health func­tion, whether we’re stressed and gen­er­al­ly fatigued or suf­fer­ing from a men­tal dis­or­der or neu­ro­log­i­cal con­di­tion:

I can­not say exact­ly how nature exerts its calm­ing and orga­niz­ing effects on our brains, but I have seen in my patients the restora­tive and heal­ing pow­ers of nature and gar­dens, even for those who are deeply dis­abled neu­ro­log­i­cal­ly. In many cas­es, gar­dens and nature are more pow­er­ful than any med­ica­tion.

“In forty years of med­ical prac­tice,” the physi­cian writes, “I have found only two types of non-phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal ‘ther­a­py’ to be vital­ly impor­tant for patients with chron­ic neu­ro­log­i­cal dis­eases: music and gar­dens.” A gar­den also represents—for Sacks and for artists like Vir­ginia Woolf—“a tri­umph of resis­tance against the mer­ci­less race of mod­ern life,” as Maria Popo­va writes at Brain Pick­ings, a pace “so com­pul­sive­ly focused on pro­duc­tiv­i­ty at the cost of cre­ativ­i­ty, of lucid­i­ty, of san­i­ty.”

Voltaire’s pre­scrip­tion to tend our gar­dens has made Can­dide into a watch­word for car­ing for and appre­ci­at­ing our sur­round­ings. (It’s also now the name of a gar­den­ing app). Sacks’ rec­om­men­da­tions should inspire us equal­ly, whether we’re in search of cre­ative inspi­ra­tion or men­tal respite. “As a writer,” he says, “I find gar­dens essen­tial to the cre­ative process; as a physi­cian, I take my patients to gar­dens when­ev­er pos­si­ble. The effect, he writes, is to be “refreshed in body and spir­it,” absorbed in the “deep time” of nature, as he writes else­where, and find­ing in it “a pro­found sense of being at home, a sort of com­pan­ion­ship with the earth,” and a rem­e­dy for the alien­ation of both men­tal ill­ness and the grind­ing pace of our usu­al form of life.

via New York Times/Brain Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Oliv­er Sacks’ Rec­om­mend­ed Read­ing List of 46 Books: From Plants and Neu­ro­science, to Poet­ry and the Prose of Nabokov

A First Look at The Ani­mat­ed Mind of Oliv­er Sacks, a Fea­ture-Length Jour­ney Into the Mind of the Famed Neu­rol­o­gist

How the Japan­ese Prac­tice of “For­est Bathing”—Or Just Hang­ing Out in the Woods—Can Low­er Stress Lev­els and Fight Dis­ease

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Jeff Tweedy Explains How to Learn to Love Music You Hate: Watch a Video Animated by R. Sikoryak

Punk rock peer pres­sure forced Jeff Tweedy, founder of Wilco, to shun Neil Young and oth­er  “hippie“musical greats.

Ah, youth…

Were Tweedy, now a sea­soned 51-year-old, to deliv­er a com­mence­ment speech, he’d do well to coun­sel younger musi­cians to reject such knee jerk rejec­tion, as he does in the above ani­mat­ed inter­view for Top­ic mag­a­zine.

Not because he’s now one of those grey beards him­self, but rather because he’s come to view influ­ence and taste as liv­ing organ­isms, capa­ble of inter­act­ing in sur­pris­ing ways.

That’s not to say the young­sters are oblig­ed to declare an affin­i­ty for what they hear when ven­tur­ing into the past, just as Tweedy does­n’t fake a fond­ness for much of the new music he checks out on the reg­u­lar.

Think of this prac­tice as some­thing sim­i­lar to one mil­lions of child­ish picky eaters have endured. Eat your veg­eta­bles. Just a taste. You can’t say you don’t like them until you’ve active­ly tast­ed them. Who knows? You may find one you like. Or per­haps it’ll prove more of a slow burn, becom­ing an unfore­seen ingre­di­ent of your matu­ri­ty.

In oth­er words, bet­ter to sam­ple wide­ly from the unend­ing musi­cal buf­fet avail­able on the Inter­net than con­ceive of your­self as a whol­ly orig­i­nal rock god, sprung ful­ly formed from the head of Zeus, capiche?

The nar­ra­tion sug­gests that Tweedy’s got some prob­lems with online cul­ture, but he gives props to the dig­i­tal rev­o­lu­tion for its soft­en­ing effect on the iron­clad cul­tur­al divide of his 70s and 80s youth.

Was it real­ly all just a mar­ket­ing scheme?

Unlike­ly, giv­en the Viet­nam War, but there’s no deny­ing that edu­cat­ing our­selves in our pas­sion includes approach­ing its his­to­ry with an at-least-par­tial­ly open mind.

If you want to snap it shut after you’ve had some time to con­sid­er, that’s your call, though Tweedy sug­gests he’s nev­er com­fort­able writ­ing some­thing off for­ev­er.

If noth­ing else, the stuff he dis­likes teach­es him more about the stuff he loves—including, pre­sum­ably, some of his own impres­sive cat­a­log.

Kudos to direc­tor Kei­th Stack and Augen­blick Stu­dios, ani­ma­tor of so many Top­ic inter­views, for match­ing Tweedy with car­toon­ist R. Siko­ryak, an artist who clear­ly shares Tweedy’s cre­ative phi­los­o­phy as evidenced by such works as Terms and Con­di­tions and Mas­ter­piece ComicsHere is anoth­er who clear­ly knows how to make a meal from mix­ing old and new, tra­di­tion­al and exper­i­men­tal, high and low. One of the bonus joys of this ani­mat­ed life les­son is catch­ing all of Siko­ryak’s musi­cal East­er eggs—includ­ing a cameo by Nip­per, the face of His Mas­ter’s Voice.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Kurt Cobain Lists His 50 Favorite Albums: Fea­tures LPs by David Bowie, Pub­lic Ene­my & More

The Out­siders: Lou Reed, Hunter S. Thomp­son, and Frank Zap­pa Reveal Them­selves in Cap­ti­vat­ing­ly Ani­mat­ed Inter­views

‘Beast­ie Boys on Being Stu­pid’: An Ani­mat­ed Inter­view From 1985

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist ofthe East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in New York City June 17 for the next install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Daily Rituals of 143 Famous Female Creators: Octavia Butler, Edith Wharton, Coco Chanel & More

Cer­tain kinds of con­tent have flow­ered on the inter­net that we can’t seem to get enough of, and if you fre­quent Open Cul­ture, you may well have a weak­ness for one kind in par­tic­u­lar: the dai­ly sched­ules of notable cre­ators. When we know and respect some­one’s work, we can’t help but won­der how they spend their finite time on this Earth in such a way that allows them to cre­ate that work in the first place. Mason Cur­rey, cre­ator of the blog Dai­ly Rit­u­als, knows this well: not only did all his post­ing about “how writ­ers, artists, and oth­er inter­est­ing peo­ple orga­nize their days” lead to a book, Dai­ly Rit­u­als: How Great Minds Make Time, Find Inspi­ra­tion, and Get to Work, it just last month pro­duced a sequel, Dai­ly Rit­u­als: Women at Work.

“In the first Dai­ly Rit­u­als, I fea­tured far more men than women,” writes Cur­rey. “In this sec­ond vol­ume, I cor­rect the imbal­ance with pro­files of the day-to-day work­ing lives of 143 women writ­ers, artists, and per­form­ers,” includ­ing Octavia But­ler, “who wrote every day no mat­ter what,” Isak Dine­sen, “who sub­sist­ed on oys­ters and cham­pagne but also amphet­a­mines, which gave her the over­drive she required, Martha Gra­ham, “who eschewed social­iz­ing in favor of long hours alone in her stu­dio,” and Lil­lian Hell­man, “who chain-smoked three packs of cig­a­rettes and drank twen­ty cups of cof­fee a day (after milk­ing the cow and clean­ing the barn on her Hard­scrab­ble Farm).”

You can read a few excerpts of the book at the pub­lish­er’s web site. Coco Chanel, we learn, usu­al­ly arrived late to the office but “stayed until late in the evening, com­pelling her employ­ees to hang around with her even after work had ceased, pour­ing wine and talk­ing non­stop, avoid­ing for as long as pos­si­ble the return to her room at the Ritz and to the bore­dom and lone­li­ness that await­ed her there.” Edith Whar­ton, by con­trast, “always worked in the morn­ing, and house­guests who stayed at the Mount — the 113-acre estate in Lenox, Mass­a­chu­setts, where Whar­ton penned sev­er­al nov­els, includ­ing The House of Mirth and Ethan Frome — were expect­ed to enter­tain them­selves until 11:00 a.m. or noon, when their host­ess would emerge from her pri­vate quar­ters, ready to go for a walk or work in the gar­den.”

The oth­er sub­jects of Dai­ly Rit­u­als: Women at Work, a full list of which you can read here, include every­one from Maya Angelou to Diane Arbus, Joan Did­ion to Mar­lene Diet­rich, Dorothy Park­er to Emi­ly Post, and Agnès Var­da to Alice Walk­er. Not only do no two of these cre­ators have the same rou­tines, their strate­gies for how best to use their time often con­flict. “Screw inspi­ra­tion,” said Octavia But­ler, but her col­league in writ­ing Zadie Smith takes quite a dif­fer­ent tack: “I think you need to feel an urgency about the acts,” Cur­rey quotes her as say­ing in an inter­view, “oth­er­wise when you read it, you feel no urgency either. So, I don’t write unless I real­ly feel I need to.” For all tips as you might pick up from these 143 women, as well as from the cre­ators of both sex­es in the pre­vi­ous book, the most impor­tant one might be a meta-tip: devel­op the set of dai­ly rit­u­als that suits your per­son­al­i­ty and no one else’s.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ursu­la K. Le Guin’s Dai­ly Rou­tine: The Dis­ci­pline That Fueled Her Imag­i­na­tion

The Dai­ly Habits of Famous Writ­ers: Franz Kaf­ka, Haru­ki Muraka­mi, Stephen King & More

The Dai­ly Rou­tines of Famous Cre­ative Peo­ple, Pre­sent­ed in an Inter­ac­tive Info­graph­ic

74 Essen­tial Books for Your Per­son­al Library: A List Curat­ed by Female Cre­atives

A Space of Their Own, a New Online Data­base, Will Fea­ture Works by 600+ Over­looked Female Artists from the 15th-19th Cen­turies

The Dai­ly Habits of High­ly Pro­duc­tive Philoso­phers: Niet­zsche, Marx & Immanuel Kant

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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