Flow...The Book, People. Honestly!

I want to share some thoughts from Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's book Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience; boy am I glad this is a blog not a podcast because no clue on pronunciation. MC (I really can't type his name repeatedly either) defines flow as "the state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter" (4). I was introduced to this concept by a fabulous Texas potter, Billy Ray Mangum; he puts the fun in funky (see below).


At the time I was extremely ill with Lyme disease and the amazing parental units had encouraged me to try an art class. So, there I sat listening to Billy Ray give me hope. If working with clay could get me in the flow, perhaps I'd find a window where I could forget the debilitating pain and fatigue. Clay became more important to me than Vicodin. It was the only time I felt a glimmer of *me* still alive and well. During my Lyme time I lost a lot of my abilities that I had previously taken for granted -- reading, following conversations and movie plots, walking to the mail box--and many times it felt like I had also lost myself. Clay brought me back to me.

MC suggests that to really achieve flow you need to have mastered a creative pursuit, i.e. at least 10 years of practice. I was brand new to clay when I started but it transported me in many of the ways that MC describes as flow. Why? This is not a self-proclaimed prodigy confessional; far from it. Last weekend I stumbled across a TED.com podcast featuring MC which had me re-pondering this query. MC mentions in this talk that the nervous system processes a maximum of about 110 bits per second. When you are listening to a speaker, that takes about 60 bits. This explains why we can't hear more than 2 people talking at once -- our brains just can't process that much, that fast. However, MC has a theory that when in flow, the brain is using most of the 110 bits to focus on the creative task at hand. Hence, the person loses track of time, sometimes reports feeling disconnected from his or her body, doesn't notice hunger or pain, etc.

Hearing this a light bulb went off. When I was sick I am pretty sure my brain wasn't able to process anywhere close to that norm of 110 bits. So here's my theory: when I had Lyme I could only process let's say 50 bits per second. Therefore, the threshold for reaching flow was actually lower. I didn't have to be a master potter to be transported by flow!

My encounter with Lyme created a deep respect for art as therapy. I met wonderful people via ceramics and became intrigued by how many of them originally came to art because of an emotional or physical loss. They came seeking to re-build themselves and stayed for the joy of creating -- for the flow. It scares me how the arts are cut from schools because they are seen as optional. Can the fields of science and psychology provide data to support the recuperative powers of creative engagement? Can healing be quantified?

Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly. Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. New York: Harper Collins, 1990.

Oh Sweet Stereotypes

I am not against stereotypes. A lot of people write off stereotypes as being false, racist, mean-hearted, or a waste of time. Though they may not always be flattering, stereotypes can many times be grounded in some snippet of truth or reality. The valley girl stereotype exists because, like, there are, like, totally people who, you know, act like that, right? Yesterday I was stereotyped in an innocuous way, but reminded me how many of our interactions and assumptions are based on these tricksy things called stereotypes.

I was in the elevator heading out for my lunch break. Ran into one of the executives who offices on my floor (eleven if you must know), he asked:
Exec: Where are you headed for lunch?
Moi: Actually I'm going to finish some more X'mas shopping. I really don't want to shop
the week of X'mas. Actually I just don't really like shopping.
Exec: (As he exits the elevator) Really? But you look so much like a woman.

Sidenote: I would like to pose a question to my lovely non-Texan readers, would that statement be made in Chicago? New York City? San Francisco? I'm really not sure any more because I have been re-immersed in Texas culture for 5 years.

I have lived a blessed life and had never personally felt the racial side of stereotyping until I lived in rural Mississippi. Before the school year even began, there were parents who tried to get their children out of my class based on my whiteness. I was called Cracker and the principal (remember spell it with an "a" because she's your "pal") told me to my face I would fail because I was white, talked to fast, and came from up North. Not the smoothest of beginnings. I understood why this community held such a negative stereotype of White People, but it made me sad to be lumped in.

Here's one final stereotype encounter: I wear scarves to work, many of which are brightly colored. In this conservative corner of the world, that is enough to have me labeled Artsy Bohemian. I don't mind being lumped in under these stereotypes especially because it means I can get away with more. Case in point. One day I was at work all day and then at a work function that night and no one mentioned to me that I was wearing two completely different earrings. When I realized my gaff I had a sneaky suspicion. The next day I asked my colleagues if they had even noticed -- one said no, the other confirmed my suspicion. "Well, sure I noticed, but I just thought it was a fashion choice..." Because of my status under the heading of Bohemian I don't even need to match. Awesome! Thanks stereotypes (this time)!

Calculators + Penthouses

I pulled up one of the mortgage calculators on the interwebs to see how much house I could, in theory, afford. I do this every once in a while to a) dream and b) marvel at how crazy banks are for wanting to give me too much money. The last time I did this little entertainment exercise was about 2004 and banks were throwing high sums at these calculators (that approach worked out really well).

So, I was curious to see if the numbers were more conservative now. I entered the basics, clicked calculate, and my eyes popped out. I placed my finger on the screen and started counting decimal places. Something was way wrong. The banks were crazier than ever. Oh wait. . . I entered yearly income on the monthly income line. Yup, that would do it.

What was even more eye opening, is a friend shared this website which advertises a Brooklyn penthouse for the tidy little sum of 25 million. Um, so if I made my yearly income every month that penthouse would still be a stretch. This really brought home the whole concept of wealthy for me. Holy cow, how much do some folks pull in on a weekly basis?! I probably shouldn't think about this before work!

Over-Inflated Optimism?

Let me set the stage. Today there was a very loud drilling noise in my office building to the point that the walls were shaking a bit.

Co-worker: What is that noise?
Me: I dunno.
Co-worker: Do you think we're okay?
Me: Oh we're fine. I'm not worried.
Co-worker: What would it feel like if the building were about to collapse?
Me: (From my vast expertise on the subject) I'm sure things would be falling over.
Co-worker: Do you think we would die if the building collapsed, I mean we're on the 11th floor. . .
Me: The 11th floor means we'd be close to the top of the rubble. They'd totally find us first.

Gotta love the silver lining!

Naming Convention

Tonight was the birthday celebration of my friend Sara (or as her mother lovingly referred to her, "Bitch for her Birthday"). As we sat awaiting our luscious Mexican cuisine at Paloma Blanca, Sara announced that we should start using the term "The Great Recession" to refer to the current economic climate.

"It's just not fair,"Sara claimed. "The people who lived through the Great Depression probably never got to call it that while they were living it. I think we should have a better name for this recession-- it seems to be ending, so we need to act fast." With Sara's logic in mind, the Googling commenced.

Oh the disappointment brought on by the interwebs. It's so rude when fact contradicts theory.

1. As late as 1930, sweet ol' President Hoover was still claiming that "the fundamental strength of the economy is unimpaired." However, by 1931 Hoover himself referred to the economic situation as the "great depression."

Oh wait, there's more...

2. The term "great depression" dates back to 1820!

3. The Great Depression was coined early on, but did not take residence as a Proper Noun until the book The Great Depression (go figure) was published in1934.

Enough with the factoids about the Depression. What about the Great Recession?

Sorry Sara, but not a new idea. The term "Great Recession" (caps and all) was used to describe economic downturns in 1974-75, 79, the 80's, early 90's, 2001...

We still need a name for this era, so in honor of Hurricane Season (I heard about Hurricane Bill this morning... Wait isn't Bill a vampire in Louisiana?) I say we give this recession a proper name. Andre. Gilroy. Rasputin. In my Googling I also came across the following suggestions:

• Bush Recession
• Hoovered Again
• Very Good Depression

Any other suggestions out there? Do share!

Street Fights, Bikes, and Chicago

The amazing and wonderful PBarry shared this video link showing a street fight in Uptown. Uptown is a Chicago neighborhood close to where I used to live. My best friend worked in Uptown, so I had many occasions to bike and walk through the intersection of Sheridan & Leland.

Watching this video post started me thinking about my biking days in Chicago and all the neighborhoods I ended up "touring," many times by mistake. "Oh, that's Cabrini-Green," was a phrase I distinctly remember from one such bike ride. Some people bike the scenic lake shore, whatever.

One of my favorite mom-isms from this era is from one of her visits to me in Chi-town. We are walking on Clark Street and my mom says, "Now, this isn't the Clark St. that you always talk about biking home on at night... Is it?" My first thought, "Why, oh why must she pay such good attention to what I tell her on the phone?!" and then, "But, this is a nice portion of Clark St."

On second thought, Mom, maybe you shouldn't watch that video link...

In Stairwell #2

I am part of a very select (read minuscule) group of people in my office building who actually use the stairs. Evidently stair climbing ranks low as a popular past times in dear ol' San Antonio. Not too surprising considering that in 2008 Men's Fitness ranked SA the third Fattest City in America.

Now because Texas loves to celebrate any and all victories, I would like to be fair to the other great cities that are avidly applying the "bigger is better" philosophy... "Six of the 10 Fattest cities in the land hail from Lone Star land: No. 2 Arlington, No. 3 San Antonio, No. 4 Fort Worth, No. 5 El Paso, No. 6 Dallas, and No. 10 Houston."

Wowsers! Thanks Men's Fitness for the downer.

Let me retrace my steps (horrible pun intended). Before the summer heat wave (that started in spring), I climbed the 9 flights to my cubicle at least once a day. On my daily trek, I passed the same cockroach carcass on the same stair. It was just me and the dead roach. One day I was completely shocked because I actually saw another human in the stairwell. He seemed quite surprised to see me and as I passed he wheezed, "It's good to see someone else using the stairs. (gasp) Now I know if I have a heart attack (gasp) in here someone will eventually find my body." Moving from carcasses to corpses - very reassuring.

However, it's not all death and despair in the stairwells. At the end of most days, I take a different stairwell so that I can have my daily chuckle. On my final flight I come across a web of plumbing (pictured above) with little hanging placards, my favorite of which reads, "Main Drain."

I am a huge Joe vs. the Volcano fan. If you haven't seen it, you now have homework. If you have, but can't remember the Main Drain scene from Joe's hideous job where the fluorescent lights are "Suck, Suck, Sucking" his life away... you also have homework. If you know exactly what I'm talking about and can quote every blessed word, kudos. You have optional extra credit--watch Joe again for the sheer joy of it and remember, "I know he can get the job, but can he do the job," from the wise lips of Mr. Watori.

You'll find me chuckling to myself in the stairwell.