Introduction

This is the inaugural post in a new series, in which I will explore the ideas behind each of the exercises in The Next Ten Minutes. The concept for this series arose as I was writing the book. With each exercise, I found that I there were materials that I really wished I could have incorporated into the book. But most of these materials existed on-line. And to my mind there’s just no good way to incorporate on-line materials into a physical book. So, rather than sprinkle the pages of the book with a bunch of web addresses, I decided to supplement the book with a series of blog posts in which I can link directly to on-line material. These posts will undoubtedly vary in their narrative coherence. Some will be short essays. Some will take the form of a list. All will include links to the additional reading (or listening) references which appear at the end of each exercise.

If you haven’t yet read the book, you won’t have all of the information you need to place the material in these posts in context. Even so, you should find some interesting and entertaining things here. My hope is that you’ll find the information in these posts both fun and helpful as supplements to the book. I would like for this to be a dynamic project and a conversation, so I’m also hoping that readers will suggest additional on-line materials and will provide links in the comments section. My plan is to post an entry about a new exercise about once a week.

The roots of this exercise and the concepts behind it

Procrastinate was the very first exercise I wrote for the book, and it is one of the exercises which is most directly drawn from traditional psychotherapeutic techniques. It is an example of “prescribing the symptom” (a concept which I discuss elsewhere in the book), a technique which is meant to put the patient into a therapeutic double bind. The beauty of a well-executed double-bind is that it creates a situation in which every outcome is positive. When you are instructed to perform a “negative” behavior such as procrastination, you have two choices: you can follow the instruction or you can disobey. If you disobey you win, because you have overcome your procrastination. If you follow the instructions you also win, because you have transformed the act of procrastination into a conscious choice, thus demonstrating the power that you have over your own behavior.

This technique is most useful in situations where we feel powerless..or rather, where we aren’t acknowledging the power that we have. It works by giving us access to the part of ourselves that is making the choice to engage in the behavior. It’s a technique which, to the best of my knowledge, was developed by Milton Erickson, whom you can see at work in this video:


Erickson made use of small variations in habitual behaviors as leverage for larger change. In my exercise, the goal is slightly different. I want the reader to experience the “negative” behavior of procrastination as a conscious choice. The larger goal for me (as it is in all of the exercises in the book) is to enhance your “observing ego,” so that you have a greater ability to observe the workings of your own mind.

Another example of a therapeutic double bind

Recently a patient was describing to me how she frequently found herself doing things for other people that she really didn’t want to do. She was puzzled by why she kept doing this. I had her walk through one specific example of this behavior, in as much detail as she could. She described a recurring scenario in which her husband would ask her to do something that he was perfectly capable of doing for himself (“honey, would answer the phone, it might be my boss calling”). When this happened, she had a distinct emotional reaction: an initial flare of anger, followed quickly by an emotional damping down and a cognitive rationalization (“don’t make him get mad at me”). Then she proceeded to resentfully do what he asked.

I instructed her to keep doing exactly what she had been doing over the next week. But to observe herself as she engaged in that behavior. And each time she observed herself repeating this pattern, I told her to say to herself, calmly and without  judgment: “I am choosing to do something that I don’t want to do.”

When she came in for her next session, something had shifted. She didn’t feel helpless anymore in the face of her husband’s intimidating demands. In fact, she confessed, she’d disobeyed my instructions by starting to tell him to answer the phone for himself.

The technique worked because rather than trying to force her behavior to change it created a sort of cognitive dissonance in her own self-awareness. She was forced into a more mindful state about her own behavior. Being able to observe herself in this manner gave her the room to start making different decisions. By failing, she found success.

Etymology

The word “procrastinate” is rooted in the Latin verb that literally means in favor of (pro) tomorrow (cras). I find this interesting because, offhand, I can’t think of another English word that has the Latin root “cras” with this meaning. (If you know of one, please leave it in the comments.) There’s a nice explanation of the etymology at Word Power.

Procrastination: the traditional view

Here’s Ellen DeGeneres, with your basic stand-up comedy riff on procrastination:


Here’s an animated version of the same theme:


There are a few million variations on this theme. Procrastination is a universal experience, but the way we usually think about it isn’t particularly complex. The joke is simply that we humans keep hitting our head against the same wall, over and over again. We try to overcome our weakness, but after a few seconds we succumb.

Traditional techniques for fighting procrastination

Just as humor about procrastination tends to hit a single note over and over again, traditional advice for over-coming procrastination tends to try to stare down our resistance to getting things done by using strategies aimed at forcing our behavior to change, as evidenced in instructional videos like these:


And you’ll find similar advice on sites like these:

eHow

About.com

Mindtools.com

The idea, as I see it, is that you can change your behavior by forcing your behavior to change. But as those who have read The Next Ten Minutes will be aware, I’m not a big believer in this approach. I actually to think that trying to keep yourself from procrastinating is a fool’s errand. If you try to engage it in hand-to-hand combat, it’s not going to go well. In fact, you might actually wind up strengthening the very behavior you’re attempting to suppress.

Meditation on procrastination

That’s a lot of carping about the unhelpful ways that people try to help us with procrastination. But there are also some people out there who think about procrastination in really interesting ways. For instance, I rather like this approach to “structured” procrastination because it attempts to make use of the inevitability of procrastination rather than trying to defeat it outright:

Structured Procrastination

And this is a wonderful piece which looks at the psychological mechanisms underlying procrastination, leading us to think differently about how our minds are working when we’re in the process of procrastinating:

You are not so smart

Finally ,here’s another very good essay on the psychology of procrastination, which gets you thinking differently about the whole subject, and which might just inspire you to get some really important things done:

Paul Graham

Procrastination songs

In my fantasy about this series I have a theme song for each of the exercises in The Next Ten Minutes. But I’m off to a bad start because I honestly cannot think of many hit songs about procrastination. Some people have suggested John Lennon’s “Watching the Wheels,” but that’s not really about procrastination. It’s about detachment. The best procrastination songs I can find are home-made, like the one below. (If you can think of any good songs about procrastination, please list them in the comments.)


Half-assed procrastination

One more thought. In one of the variations on this exercise in the book I ask readers to do something that they’ve been putting off, but to do it without enthusiasm. I challenge readers to see if they can mindfully do a half-assed job on something. It’s a challenge because usually when we do a half-assed job on something it’s a sort of semi-conscious protest.

This variation relates to an idea that has been bouncing around in my head for a long time, one which informs the entire book. I believe that we often discount the value of positive behaviors which we perform poorly or inconsistently. I’ve thought about this a great deal in regards to my own meditation practice….or lack thereof. I know that I am an extremely inconsistent meditator. What I’ve found though, is that this awareness of how poorly I meditate tends to keep me from meditating at all. In writing The Next Ten Minutes I attempted to turn this idea on its head. Because I truly believe that even meditation practices that are done poorly and without much commitment are beneficial. And I believe that giving ourselves permission to practice meditation in a half-assed manner is a great way to build a micro-meditation practice into our daily lives. Rather than telling ourselves that we are failing because we can’t focus on our breath for more than a few seconds, why not build a practice whose goal is to make the most of those few seconds that you can meditate?

Toward that end, I created the League of Half-Assed Meditators, which now has its own page on Facebook. When I come across articles or research supporting the benefits of “micro-meditation,” I link to them there. If you too believe that taking a single, focused breath can make a positive difference in your day, then I encourage you to join the group.

Further reading

The individual reading references for this exercise are:


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can find an Amazon list of references for this exercise here. The find a full set of lists for every exercise here. And if you’ve got suggestions for other books on any of the topics in the exercise or in this post, I’d love to hear them. Please leave them in a comment.

Open questions

Finally, a few question for discussion:

  • What is the most effective tool you’ve ever found to distract yourself from a task that you know you should be doing? Or, to give the question a more sinister twist: if you were a secret agent whose task was to keep your enemies from being able to concentrate on their work…what program or website would you sneak onto their computer to achieve your goal?
  • And what are your ideas for further variations on the basic procrastination exercise?

 

Read the next post in the Beyond the Book series – Relax Your Face – here.

 



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Part 7: Surrender

[In part six of this series I paused to summarize my efforts so far in my quest for a diagnosis.]

Step one

We admitted that we were powerless.

A lot of people who start up in 12-step programs have trouble with the first step. Personally, I’ve always liked it.

Our lives had become unmanageable.

To me has, that has always seemed like simple statement of fact about the human condition. We are, when it comes right down to it, powerless over our unmanageable lives.

That’s not to say that I don’t often resist this truth. Like everyone else, I try to create the illusion that I’m in control of my own life.

But the wiser part of me, the existentialist in me, knows better. This part of me doesn’t believe that our lives are guided by some intrinsically meaningful forces, higher powers that are waiting to be discovered. This part of me understands that the only meaning in our lives is the meaning that we ourselves create.

People often balk at that. The idea that our existence has no meaning seems, on the surface, so negative.

But I actually find it to be a tremendously affirmative statement. Because if our lives do not come with pre-determined meaning, we have this incredible freedom to make meaning from our experience. That freedom is both invigorating and terrifying. Because, of course, along with that freedom comes a sobering responsibility.

Still, I understand that this is not the most popular way of understanding human existence. If you’re even a little bit religious, the idea that life is meaningless is…well, sacrilege. And if you’re in the 12-step world, you think of powerlessness and unmanageability as symptoms of an illness. They’re problems to be resolved, not conditions to be tolerated.

But I would argue, using a bit of Buddhist logic, that much of human suffering is not the result of our powerlessness itself, but rather that it comes as a consequence of hanging on too tightly to the illusion that we are ever other than powerless over our unmanageable lives.

To be clear (as I have said before), I’m not against religion at all. But I am deeply, profoundly agnostic. I’m not against 12-step programs either. Quite the contrary. I refer my clients to them regularly. But personally, I can never truly move on to the second step. For all the reasons I’m describing, that whole higher power thing just doesn’t sit well with me.

So my personal 12-Step program is pared down. It’s a 1-Step program. Just keep taking that first step, over and over again.

I don’t need or expect you to agree with me on this. I’m describing it simply so that you can understand the decision I was about to make for myself with regard to my own search for a diagnosis.

I took the first step. I acknowledged that I was powerless over my own diagnosability. But I needed to figure out where to go from there. Since there was no higher power to “restore me to sanity,” how could I find a way to remain in that powerless state?

I turned to the only true guide I know for dead-end situations and that is Victor Frankl, who describes so powerfully how the only absolute power we ever have is the power to shape our attitude toward our experience.

I began to ask myself: what attitude did I want to take toward my own health? What meaning could I make of it?

Homeostasis

In the Spring of this year, as the anniversary of our trip to Mayo came and went, I was settling into an awareness that there were no more doctors left for me to see. There was not a specialty I could think of that might offer any new or different perspective on my undiagnosed symptoms. It really seemed like I’d reached the end of the line.

Nothing much had changed with regard to my symptoms. They were always evolving, but they’d seemed to reach a sort of homeostasis. They ranged from annoying to worrying to occasionally debilitating, but they weren’t getting significantly better or worse. The muscle spasms had grown somewhat less intense, although they occasionally flared up. The fatigue had improved a little bit after the sleep studies, but I was still subject to intermittent bouts of overwhelming exhaustion. Most things came and went with varying degrees of intensity – the migrating neurologic symptoms, the metallic taste, the waves of  “cellular” pain. The cognitive fog was probably the most constant and bothersome symptom. I felt constantly at a slight remove from everyone around me, and most of the time it was just plain hard to think.

So things weren’t great. But they also didn’t seem dire. It seemed likely that I could go on living like this indefinitely.

And I’d grown so tired of going to doctors.

So I began to ask myself: what if this is it? What if the answer is that there is no answer? What if this condition is truly undiagnosable?

I confess that I felt some relief in allowing myself to ask this question. The cycle of hoping for an answer and not getting one had worn me down. It was mentally and physically exhausting. And, more importantly, it kept me focused inward, constantly monitoring my symptoms, which prevented me from being able to direct energy into my work and my relationships the way I wanted to.

So I began, for the first time, to let myself consider a possibility that had seemed unthinkable earlier. Perhaps this is simply the condition of my life from now on.

In the past this admission would have seemed like a weakness. Like I was quitting because things had gotten too hard for me. But the more I considered it, the more it actually seemed like the only sane approach to take. It was a way of changing the terms of my relationship to my own health. Rather than let my symptoms control me, perhaps I could decide for myself how much influence I gave my them over my own self-definition.

I accept

I asked myself what it would take for me to let go of my search for a diagnosis?

I would have to find a way to treat my symptoms with equanimity.

I would have to find a way to re-focus my energy on the future. One of the ways in which my illness had affected my thinking was that it limited my awareness of my own future potential. It had narrowed my vision, kept me from attending well to any long-term goals.

And more than anything, I would have to find a way to take a positive attitude toward my own life. I’d spent so much time wondering about the ways in which my existence might be curtailed…it would be a significant shift to focus instead on what was possible.

I understood the techniques for making this cognitive shift. After all, I taught them to my psychotherapy patients all the time. And I practiced them in my own half-assed but heart-felt meditation practice. It was a matter of mindfully attending to the ways in which I held my symptoms in mind. Trying not to attach to those symptoms as the definition of my entire being. Instead, I could just notice them and let them go.

When I felt a muscle spasm, for instance, what did my mind do with it? I had a choice about how much emphasis I gave it. I could start scanning anxiously for other spasms, reviewing when and where they occurred. I could make spasms the filter through which I understood the world.

Or I could just let it go.

I received some unexpected assistance in this work of shifting my thinking from my weekly yin yoga class. Yin yoga was one of the few things that had actually made me feel better during all of this. It’s a practice which emphasizes the slow stretching of the body’s connective tissues. Most of it is done on the floor. A pose might be nothing more than a simple, forward fold, held for four or five minutes. You try to relax your muscles, to give yourself access to the deeper tissues. It has helped me in ways that seem to me to be beyond words.

At the beginning of one class the instructor had us do a very simple breathing exercise. Breathe in deeply. Then exhale. And at the bottom of the exhale, the pause before the next breath began, say to yourself: “I accept.”

She didn’t give any instructions on how to direct that acceptance. But I felt immediately what it was that I was needing to accept. And breath after breath, as I spoke those silent words to myself, I sunk deeper into the awareness that acceptance was what I needed more than anything. I was on the edge of tears. This is the state of my life, of my body, of my mind. This is my existence. This is what is.

I accept.

The bottleneck

I made a list at the things I wanted to accomplish in the near future.

In addition to everyday household and parental tasks and the work of maintaining my private practice, most of my list involved things I wanted to do to begin promoting my upcoming book. I wanted to put together proposals for presentations I could make at conferences. I wanted to produce a short video. And I had a fantasy of composing music for some or all of the chapters in the book.

All of these things had come to feel overwhelming to me. Before my health had gone south – before, especially, the brain fog had set in – I could have moved through each of these tasks fairly quickly. I would have been able feel the satisfaction of completion. Now I was going to have to learn to take satisfaction in much smaller steps. In order to feel like I was moving forward, I was going to have to look at these things with a much longer time frame.

Because the simple truth was, I didn’t know, day by day, just how much energy and concentration I’d be able to muster. I usually had a few decent hours in the morning, but the afternoons were a total crapshoot. There were often times when I had two or three open hours to work in the afternoon, but when I sat down to do it, my mind simply froze. I would read the same sentence in a book dozens of times without being able to move forward. I would stare at my notebook, unable to conjure a single coherent thought.

In the past I would have been able to power through these blocks. Because of this habit, it took me quite awhile to realize that things had changed. It was exceedingly difficult for me to accept that it was pointless to try to keep trying. But it was true. When I felt like this, the best thing I could do was to lay down and take a nap. That, I slowly came to understand, was what my mind and body were really needing.

I felt it in my psychotherapy practice as well. Mercifully my caseload was very small at this time and limited to the mornings. Because seeing just two clients in a morning pretty much wore me out.

It was, as my wife kept saying to my doctors, as if I was about to turn 70 instead of 50.

The way I experienced it, it was as if my creative energy had once flowed through a broad pipe, but now one end of that pipe had narrowed into a very small funnel. There was only so much I could get through that bottleneck at a time. I had to develop a lot more patience, and also a bit more faith in my own ability to persist at a project that was moving in slow-motion.

Often I’d sit down to start writing (a piece like this, for instance, which I imagined I would post at least a week early than I actually am), and I’d find that my mind simply refused to function. I simply had to accept this limitation. I wasn’t going to finish the piece that day. It would get done when it got done. I wasn’t going to give up on it, but I wasn’t going to push myself to do what wasn’t possible.

Slowly, day by day, I found a way to accept this new reality. I learned to appreciate how much I was actually able to do, over time, in spite of how I felt. And that wasn’t just happy talk. It genuinely felt good.

The more I was able to get myself into this frame of mind, the more I felt relieved not to be spending all my mental energy focused on my health. I was able, with effort, to think of myself less as someone who was sick, and more as a person who was maintaining a small, successful psychotherapy practice, who was composing music and doing everything he could to promote his forthcoming book.

One last test

So there I was.

I was pretty much at peace. I wasn’t happy not to have a diagnosis. I wasn’t happy with the limitations I experienced. But I knew that I could move on with my life. Maybe things would get better. Maybe they’d get worse. Either way, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I had come to accept that I was powerless over my undiagnosability.

And this was where this story was supposed to end.

But then my wife opened another door.

While visiting her sister in upstate New York, she’d met a woman who called herself a healer. This woman offered to try to diagnose my condition through my wife’s energy. My wife agreed and at the end of the session the healer told her that I had babesiosis. I felt weary at the word. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt overwhelmed by the mere idea of starting up again on another fruitless quest to get a diagnosis.

My wife expected me to be skeptical and I was. The arguments spun around in my head. I’d started down this path so many times. How could this possibly be a proper way to diagnose anybody?

But then again, I told myself, if I was open to having chickens sacrificed in my kitchen, I ought to stay open to this as well. I looked up babesiosis and learned that it was a tick-borne infection that commonly co-occurred with Lyme Disease. The symptoms resembled those of Malaria. My symptoms weren’t malarial. And I’d already had a test for Lyme. Upstate New York was Lyme Disease territory, so of course that’s the sort of thing she’d come up with. I’d never heard of anyone with Lyme in Montana. It just seemed sort of wacky.

Still, my wife said, what’s the harm in getting you tested for it?

She was right. What was the harm in that?

[Part eight of this series will describe the unexpected turn of events that began with this "final" test.]

 

 

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