Singleness of Purpose

We don’t multitask well, say the experts. I’m afraid my experience supports their claims. And Feynman found that some people could talk and mentally count at the same time, and others could not—he was one who couldn’t.

Some tasks partition well enough that we can come close to multitasking. When a knitter is expert enough she can concentrate on talking while her hands do the automatic motions.

Some tasks go together naturally—listening to music and joining in with song or dance, for example. Eating with friends makes the food and conversation better.

But…

Gandhi is said to have believed so strongly in the dignity of work that he respected the effort that went into the making of each pencil—respected it strongly enough that he would not throw away that piece of work until the nub was too small to hold in his fingers.

Back before the University in its infinite wisdom redid the windows (it now gets colder in my office than it used to) I could pick up some radio stations and I’d sometimes listen to music while I worked. And then one day I realized I was missing half the detail while concentrating on something else. Sitting in a concert hall and doing nothing but listening brought out aspects I’d never heard before in a piece I’d heard dozens of times.

Apple pie can be great. Apple pie a la mode is a good contrast of flavors and textures and temperatures. Apple pie a la mode with chocolate drizzle and candy sprinkles? We’re not just talking diminishing returns here; the complex dessert is worse than the simpler one and the pie maker could justly complain about what we’ve done to her creation.

In order to hear consistently above the background noise of the road or the waiting room, music needs to be flattened dynamically. That leaves us with less to listen to in the first place. With some musician/singers in the family, and from listening to practice at church, I know the care that goes into getting each bit right—often my untrained ears can’t tell the difference—and I wonder what they think of their effort being treated so carelessly.

"Money can’t buy happiness," nor even rent it for long; the thrill passes and you need a bigger one, and a bigger—the handful of M&Ms isn’t enough anymore, you need a 8-oz bar, or perhaps even the "TurnGreen" 24-oz of chocolate stuffed with caramel and peanuts and coconut and drizzled with white chocolate, leisurely devoured while soaking in a whirlpool and listening to your favorite band and watching videos on the big screen and getting a neck rub.

’Tis the gift to be simple. One of the things we enjoy in children is their focus on the moment. Their "moments" don’t always last long—long term dedication is more of an adult attribute—but they’re often thoroughly involved while it lasts. It seems like a useful discipline to cultivate—doing one thing at at time. Life militates against it, of course. Creating this post lasted considerably longer than I expected, partly because people wanted to talk to me and they take priority. And I remember what life was like with little kids running about. But when I have the time to enjoy something, I don’t need to make it as complicated as the rest of the day.