I would like to introduce to all of you my friend and author Jim Moorman.
I wrote a guest blog for Jim, "No Fairy Tale for Cleveland... Yet," a while back, and I'm excited that he is returning the favor. In his own words, Jim's mission is to entertain, inspire, and hopefully offer a few laughs along the way.
His mission is not unlike my own. I, also, try to end many of my stories on an upbeat tone, so this was right up my ally. I would say after reading this "Don't forget to stop and smell the roses." Or at least stop and appreciate their beauty and perhaps even snap a picture or two of them along the way.
A Beautiful Brain
I read recently that our brains process over 2000 bits of information every second. That’s right, every second. The article went on to say that with so much information being processed throughout our day, we tend to tune a lot of it out, naturally. She encouraged her readers to try and “retrain” their brain with a goal of selectively processing information that would have otherwise been tuned out. I was, of course, intrigued, and decided to investigate the possibility.
I wrote a guest blog for Jim, "No Fairy Tale for Cleveland... Yet," a while back, and I'm excited that he is returning the favor. In his own words, Jim's mission is to entertain, inspire, and hopefully offer a few laughs along the way.
His mission is not unlike my own. I, also, try to end many of my stories on an upbeat tone, so this was right up my ally. I would say after reading this "Don't forget to stop and smell the roses." Or at least stop and appreciate their beauty and perhaps even snap a picture or two of them along the way.
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| http://jimmoormanbooks.com/ |
A Beautiful Brain
I read recently that our brains process over 2000 bits of information every second. That’s right, every second. The article went on to say that with so much information being processed throughout our day, we tend to tune a lot of it out, naturally. She encouraged her readers to try and “retrain” their brain with a goal of selectively processing information that would have otherwise been tuned out. I was, of course, intrigued, and decided to investigate the possibility.
In order to “retrain” one’s brain there apparently has to
be a very clear vocalized intention. The word intention is defined by Merriam
Webster as, “a determination to act in a certain way: resolve.”
So what was is it that I would be newly resolved to notice? I pondered for a
while and then decided that, after what I took as a sign from the universe, I’d
like to begin taking better notice of all the beauty in the world.
It
seems simple, right? The world is, after all, a beautiful place, isn’t it? It
turns out that, until last week, I apparently didn’t think it was. Like most, I
progress through my day with my mind racing in a million directions, rarely
ever conscious of my present moment. The little voice in my head is always
clamoring on about this or that. He’s my little internal worrier. Who needs a
call back, what bill needs to get paid, will I be able to find time to get to
the gym, and is my daughter’s soccer game at ten or eleven? It goes on like
this all day from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. TV is a good
mind number but all that does is really just give my brain a break from the
chaos long enough to rev up again the next morning. This “voice” that lives in
my brain is probably the one that keeps me alive, but he stresses the hell out
of me in the process.
When
I came to this realization, I immediately thought of Peter from the movie,
“Office Space.” Peter was unhappy and decided to try hypnotherapy. During the
session, his hypnotherapist had a heart attack and Peter never really snapped
out of it. He walked around in a sort of haze, taking things a lot less serious
and essentially becoming more present to his wants rather than the demands on
him from others. He was suddenly very free.
While
this is a Hollywood comedy (and a good one at that), the underlying concept is
pretty awesome. If I can tell that little voice in my head to shut up, maybe,
just maybe, I’ll create freedom to be able to choose on which of the 2000 bits
of information my brain receives each second I’d like to focus.
So
I decided to give it a go. It’s been a
couple weeks and I’ve had mixed, though improved results thus far. That little
bastard voice of mine is a persistent son of a gun. When he rears up and I
catch him, I simply say, “Thanks for sharing,” and refocus on the moment. When
it happens, I’m amazed at what I see. I noticed that my plant, the one that
sits on the ledge over my left shoulder every day for nine or so hours has been
quite neglected. Brown leaves were plentiful and in need of pruning. The soil
had dried out, and a there was a pencil sticking out of the middle of it. My
guess is that the pencil was a makeshift stake used to keep the stem upright.
Any string that once tethered them was long gone yet there the pencil stayed.
The
“moments” didn’t stop there. I started to pay attention to all sorts of things
I’d taken for granted only days before. The drive to work had always been a
mental prep time for the day, usually wrought with me having pretend fights
with people with whom I anticipated a conflict. If I was anticipating a call
from my ex telling me I needed to sell something else for my daughter’s school,
my fierce rebuttal would be well rehearsed. If my boss tried to suck me in to
one of his projects for which I didn’t have time, my objection would not only
be ready, but clearly articulated with a sound logic to support it. Then, boom,
I’m in the parking garage.
This
morning, when started my drive, I received an imaginary phone call from a
customer who wanted to wiggle out of his contract because of something that had
nothing to do with my service. I scolded the voice and did so aloud, thankful I
was in the privacy of my car. It was only seconds after that I noticed the
sunrise. It was happening in time with my commute and I was grateful for the
opportunity to witness it. Grey clouds turned bright pink, then red. A song
started playing I hadn’t heard in a long time. As I sat at the intersection of
E.9th and Lakeside, I watched a dozen people walk by a homeless man
as though he were a fixture and not a person. I didn’t condemn them or look
down on them for walking by. I knew that they were likely slaves to their
voices as they embarked upon their day. I felt worse for them than I did the
homeless man and asked God for the strength to maintain my resolve in thinking
and seeing the world differently.
Last
night, after I grabbed my lottery ticket, I walked down to the beach. I never
do that, but it was a nice night and I found myself wanting to look for something
beautiful in the world at that moment. It was dark. It was chilly. But the
light from the parking lot illuminated enough of the beach that I could see
some amazing rock and branch formations. It was quiet. The water was black.
There wasn’t another person down there nor was there one within sight. It was
just me, alone. So when the Great Blue Herron flew down out of the black sky
and stood ankle high in the lake about twenty feet from me, I didn’t quite know
what to think. There he was just standing there all alone. He wasn’t fishing.
He wasn’t walking. He was just standing, chilling out, seemingly with me. He
looked over at me pretty intently and seemed content to just share the scene. I
did the same and when he finally flew off after about five minutes, I thanked
him for the company. It was a unique, cool moment that left me feeling good. I
wouldn’t have had it had I not voiced my intention to do so.
Then
I came home and read for a while instead of watching TV. I hopped on Facebook
for a few and saw that my friend, Zach Walczak, a very talented photographer,
had just uploaded some new images. I immediately checked them out, liked most
if not all of them, and then, as I was about to navigate away from his page of
albums, saw the cover image for an album of his called Sandy Ridge Reservation.
I’m sure you can guess what it was.
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
My
lesson in all of this, you ask? Well, obviously, it’s about the grace and
beauty of the Great Blue Herron and how overlooked this majestic creature is in
my daily life.
No?
Not the bird? Well then perhaps the exercise I’ve undertaken and will continue
to master is the simple concept of getting out of my own head. It’s pretty
amazing what’s there that we don’t see every day. I’m bummed that I’ve
unknowing trained my brain to focus on largely negative things and have, in the
process, missed a lot of life’s beauty.
Should
you feel so inclined, I think you’d find it a worthwhile endeavor to (even if
just for a week or two) retrain your brain and maybe see the world in a new, beautiful
way – the way Zach sees it.
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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| Photo credit: Zach Walczak (http://www.flickr.com/photos/zackdmb/) |
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