What to Do with Distraction (Making Time for Art, Part 2)

The word “focus” is a Latin term meaning “hearth” or “fireplace;” it was used for some time to mean “fire” itself.

Think about the last time you were sitting around a campfire, or in front of a fireplace, or across from a candle, gazing upon it. If you gaze long enough, eyes soft but still, the flame begins to disintegrate everything around it. You can’t see anything but the bright licks of heat themselves. Fire consumes your attention. It’s a magnet.

So it is with focus.

When we’re truly focused, we can feel the intense fire burning behind our eyes, stirring up the energy in our hearts until all the distractions that tempt us fade away in the light of that energy. Focus self-replicates excitement and forward-motion, opens us to standing in its light in a way that blocks out all other distractions.

If we’re continually pulled away — by fear or self-doubt, by telephones or texts, by tasks that suddenly seem so much more important than our art — then focus has no chance to catch fire inside of us. But if we can stir the flame of attention long enough to attend fully to the task at hand — deep enough so that all other distractions fall by the wayside — then we can begin to develop focus; we can begin to settle into a way of doing things that is present-minded and deep.

Distractions are like winds blowing around us at all times. They threaten to put out the flame before it really gets going. But if you can protect the flame long enough — if you can guard your creative time jealously when it’s still young and somewhat fragile — then the flame, the focus, begins to feed itself. Your undivided attention becomes easier to access, and although the winds of distraction may not die down — ever – the fire before you grows strong enough to resist it, bright enough to warm and slow the winds licking at its edges.

But you have to know what your distractions are.

Many of us are very good at blaming other people, or TV, or the Internet, for distracting us. We tell ourselves, in irritation, that if only the neighbor hadn’t talked at us for 25 minutes on the porch, we would have done some art today. We would have written that next chapter. We would have practiced Moonlight Sonata.

But distraction is as deep inside of us as focus could be.

Distractions are not just external. If you think that you’re serving your focus by “getting things out of the way” before you sit down with your art — things like vacuuming or catching up on e-mail or running to the grocery store for one more thing for dinner — you’re lying to yourself. These things don’t need to be done before your art. No no no really: They don’t.

In fact, I’ll tell you a secret: If you take the time to write or perform or make art before the household chores or the extra work, if you do art first instead of last, the whole rest of your day is more energized, excited and focused. Because you don’t resent the laundry, then, or the e-mail; you’re not trying to hold onto that shred of idea or inspiration you woke up with; your mind is clearer and more open to each unfolding moment.

And then you have more focus everywhere in life, not just in your creative work but in the household drudgery and the workplace overwhelm and the commute and the marriage and the kids and whatever else you’re carrying around.

You have to ask yourself:

This last one is the clincher. Seriously. My big distraction is e-mail and social networking sites like Facebook. About two seconds of reflection showed me that that distraction is trying to fill my need for connection. And clearly, as much as I adore my Facebook friends, my distraction is telling me that I need to nurture connection in other — face-to-face, flesh-and-blood — areas of my life.

So, hearkening back to Part 1 of this series, which discussed priorities, Facebook and Twitter are not priorities, but connection — love and belonging — are. The next step, then, is to ask myself how I can focus on those things in my flesh-and-blood life so I can dispel the distraction that threatens my focus.

Your distraction may be different. You might feel the need to clean the entire house before sitting down to write, or finishing the book you’re reading before you get your paints out. It’s not just the talky neighbor or the thank-you notes to be sent or the absolute need for a sandwich right now. Your distraction is whatever’s blowing your creative focus over before you can even set it afire.

What’s that distraction serving? Connection, like mine? Is it providing comfort? Appeasing a snarling inner critic? Do you tell yourself that it’s “clearing your head”? What do you get out of it? An excuse for not writing today? A daily report to your spouse that’s well within your comfort zone (“No, I didn’t sculpt today — too busy.”)?

For whatever is keeping you from your art, sure, you need clarity. Sometimes you need to actively banish it for a while so you can get to your art: No e-mail, say, for a whole hour while you write. But those aren’t the main things.

But the main thing to do with distraction is to turn away from it — to turn toward fire.

In many esoteric traditions, fire is associated with passion, intensity, and inspiration. If you can’t find the fire in what’s in front of you, you’re distracted. You need to turn. Turn your whole body, not just your head. Take up the thing of passion. Focus will come so much easier.

And when you do, the rest of your life will feel more focused, too. Because you’ve given focus space and energy and attention. Your body knows how to do it now. Keep teaching it. Light a flame and fan it.

You’ll have more time for everything. Really.

Campfire photo
Woman sweeping photo

2 Responses

Subscribe to comments via RSS

  1. [...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Kathy Crabb, Kathy Crabb. Kathy Crabb said: What to Do with #Distraction (Making Time for #Art, Part 2) http://ow.ly/2Njwv #focus #writing #creativity [...]

  2. [...] or feeling control over your time, is the proper management of four things: priorities (Part 1), focus (Part 2), awareness (Part 3), and energy (this [...]

Subscribe to comments via RSS

Leave a Reply