Mental Traps_ The Overthinker's Guide To A Happier Life Part 2

But the change needn't be strenuous. We need only put down the article and go to the door. So long as we don't uselessly resist change, we are none the worse for having begun something that can't be finished right away. Half an interesting article is still better than twiddling our thumbs.

In this situation, the fear of a future bout of resistance leads to a present fixation. In the previous section, we saw that resistance was itself encouraged by antic.i.p.ation. Causal connections of this kind are widespread among mental traps. One trap always seems to lead to another, and the second to a third. Conversely, the elimination of one trap generally helps us to combat several others. We will encounter more of these interconnections in future chapters. previous section, we saw that resistance was itself encouraged by antic.i.p.ation. Causal connections of this kind are widespread among mental traps. One trap always seems to lead to another, and the second to a third. Conversely, the elimination of one trap generally helps us to combat several others. We will encounter more of these interconnections in future chapters.

In many ways, resistance is the very opposite of antic.i.p.ation. The occasion for either trap is a choice between perpetuating the past and moving into a new future. There's no generally valid solution to this conflict between the two temporal kingdoms. If we barrel into the future too soon, we are antic.i.p.ating. If we hold back and stay too long with the past, we resist. Antic.i.p.ating our departure on a trip, we arrive at the airport too soon and must sit and wait. Resisting our departure because we want to finish tidying up before we leave, we arrive too late and miss our flight. The course of events proceeds at its own pace. Whether we get ahead of the Universe or lag behind, we stumble and fall.

We've already seen that these contrary impulses-antic.i.p.ation and resistance-often coexist in a single individual. We coexist in a single individual. We resist resist every deviation from our every deviation from our antic.i.p.ated antic.i.p.ated scenario for the future. There's something of a paradox here. How can one and the same breast harbor both the tendency to delve too soon into the future and the inclination to cling too long to the past? In fact, these impulses are both aimed at the same effect: the eradication of the unexpected. In antic.i.p.ation, we banish the unexpected by prematurely settling the course of future events. In resistance, we ward off the unknown future altogether by perpetuating the familiar conditions of the past. Evidently, we operate under the a.s.sumption that our control over the reins of destiny should be as tight as possible. The same idea leads, on a societal level, to our indiscriminate appet.i.te for central planning and technological development. scenario for the future. There's something of a paradox here. How can one and the same breast harbor both the tendency to delve too soon into the future and the inclination to cling too long to the past? In fact, these impulses are both aimed at the same effect: the eradication of the unexpected. In antic.i.p.ation, we banish the unexpected by prematurely settling the course of future events. In resistance, we ward off the unknown future altogether by perpetuating the familiar conditions of the past. Evidently, we operate under the a.s.sumption that our control over the reins of destiny should be as tight as possible. The same idea leads, on a societal level, to our indiscriminate appet.i.te for central planning and technological development.

A moment's reflection is enough to see that the validity of this a.s.sumption can't be taken for granted. Our life isn't always more fortunate when everything proceeds according to plan. Some surprises turn out well. Resentfully dragging ourselves away from the evening news, we have a delightful evening with an old friend. Our clamber up the ladder of success is brought to a halt by illness, and we find the mental s.p.a.ce to review our life and emerge with deeper values. Alternatively, our clamber up the ladder of success proceeds exactly as planned; and we wake up one day to find our children grown before we ever had a chance to play with them. If only their interruptions of our important work had been more effective! review our life and emerge with deeper values. Alternatively, our clamber up the ladder of success proceeds exactly as planned; and we wake up one day to find our children grown before we ever had a chance to play with them. If only their interruptions of our important work had been more effective!

The forces that shape our destiny are infinitely complex. Our plans and decisions are therefore always based on radically incomplete information. Nevertheless, we're often required to make plans. But there's no advantage to making an indiscriminate habit of it, as though proceeding according to plan were an intrinsic good. If the Universe should pull the reins from our hand by visiting us with the unexpected, there's no immediate cause for sorrow. The track record of the Universe is at least as good as our own. A life in which we are always having to react to unforeseen developments is not necessarily less happy or less creative than a life of total self-direction. Even if both lives resulted in equivalent outcomes, the former would have the advantage of sparing us the burden of deciding. With the Universe at the reins, we can relax and enjoy the ride.

The a.s.sumption that things always go better when we consciously determine their course finds its quintessential expression in the enthusiasm for biofeedback. How delighted we are at the prospect of controlling our gastric secretions by an act of will! We don't question whether we can do a better job of it than our autonomic nervous system. But what's the basis for this confidence? Has willful direction been so remarkably successful in the rest of our life that we're ready to entrust our stomach to it?

In reality, of course, this striving to extend our control to the furthermost reaches of s.p.a.ce and the innermost recesses of our own bodies stems not from confidence in our abilities so much as from a fear of the unexpected. But the unexpected is neither good nor bad. It's another dimension of life entirely. Its elimination may be likened to the extinction of a species or the abolition of the experience of color. If we succeed in scrubbing the world clean of surprise, we will be left with a fragment of our former life.

Procrastination

-t often happens that, having unequivocally decided to do something, we nevertheless experience a great deal of difficulty in getting started. The mind simply refuses to get down to business. In preparation for writing a letter, we order up all the papers on our desk. Then we order up all the papers in in the desk, straighten a picture on the wall, do some calisthenics ... In short we seek out any small occupation that can take the place of turning to our appointed task. This is the mental trap of the desk, straighten a picture on the wall, do some calisthenics ... In short we seek out any small occupation that can take the place of turning to our appointed task. This is the mental trap of procrastination. procrastination. We may or may not get the upper hand over our procrastinative tendency. But even when we do, it takes the usual trap's toll of squandered time and energy. We may or may not get the upper hand over our procrastinative tendency. But even when we do, it takes the usual trap's toll of squandered time and energy.

Some of our procrastinations last for only a moment. Having already decided to run into a burning house and save a child, we still hesitate before entering the flames. Except in the most extraordinary circ.u.mstances, these brief fits of procrastination have little effect on the course of our life. But we also procrastinate for days, months, and years at a time. Conditions never seem quite right for the initiation of our project. We can't start to diet this week because we're going to have visitors who must be wined and dined. Next week, we're invited to a wedding feast. The week after, we're overwhelmed with work and feel the need to be easy on ourselves in other ways. We can't find any obstacles the week after that; but we decide to indulge for just a little longer. After all, it won't make any difference in the long run whether we begin to diet today or seven days from now. Seven days later, we're invited to another feast ... Now, whether to diet is our own affair. We can choose to be as fat as we like. But months, and years at a time. Conditions never seem quite right for the initiation of our project. We can't start to diet this week because we're going to have visitors who must be wined and dined. Next week, we're invited to a wedding feast. The week after, we're overwhelmed with work and feel the need to be easy on ourselves in other ways. We can't find any obstacles the week after that; but we decide to indulge for just a little longer. After all, it won't make any difference in the long run whether we begin to diet today or seven days from now. Seven days later, we're invited to another feast ... Now, whether to diet is our own affair. We can choose to be as fat as we like. But if if we've decided to lose weight, we are trapped in a monumental procrastination. we've decided to lose weight, we are trapped in a monumental procrastination.

Formally, procrastination is a minor variation on the theme of resistance. In both traps, we hold back from an undertaking whose time has come. The difference lies in our intention toward the new task. When we resist, we don't recognize or accede to the legitimate demands of a new call to action. The emergency, opportunity, or interruption is imposed on us from the outside, and we refuse to place it on our agenda. But when we procrastinate, the call to action is our own. We We want want to write the letter. We've already decided that we to write the letter. We've already decided that we will will write it. And still we hold back. write it. And still we hold back.

Another difference between resistance and procrastination is that the former finds us already occupied with a previous activity that we're reluctant to abandon in midstream. When we procrastinate, however, we don't appear to be busy with anything else. On the contrary, we may go out of our way to search out obscure and unimportant ch.o.r.es that give us an excuse for not getting started. This quest for make-work is very curious. Since it's we ourselves who have decided what to do next, what keeps us from beginning?

If we were waiting for conditions to become more favorable, our behavior would be considered fixated. Indeed, procrastinative activities bear a remarkable similarity to fixation. In both cases, we perform useless and disconnected acts such as twiddling our thumbs. In fixation, we twiddle to kill time until the moment for action arrives. But in procrastination, the moment for action has already come and still we twiddle. Then what are we waiting for?

The commonest cause for procrastination is undoubtedly a simple aversion to the new line of work. We know that it must be done, but we're loath to enter upon our allotted suffering. Standing at the end of the high diving board, our escape route blocked by a dozen taunting children, we know that we have to jump-that we work. We know that it must be done, but we're loath to enter upon our allotted suffering. Standing at the end of the high diving board, our escape route blocked by a dozen taunting children, we know that we have to jump-that we will will jump. But still we hesitate. Now holding back in the face of an unwelcome experience is eminently sensible if we don't ourselves accept its necessity. The condemned man who dawdles on his way to the gas chamber is not guilty of procrastination. In fact, to plunge into what we dislike before circ.u.mstances force our hand is the trap of antic.i.p.ation. But once the necessity of suffering for a greater good has been acknowledged, holding back is a waste of time. jump. But still we hesitate. Now holding back in the face of an unwelcome experience is eminently sensible if we don't ourselves accept its necessity. The condemned man who dawdles on his way to the gas chamber is not guilty of procrastination. In fact, to plunge into what we dislike before circ.u.mstances force our hand is the trap of antic.i.p.ation. But once the necessity of suffering for a greater good has been acknowledged, holding back is a waste of time.

Aversion to the task can't be the whole story, however. Often enough, we procrastinate even when we know from experience that the new business won't be so awful once we get started. Once the letter is begun, it's relatively painless to continue to the end. There's a peculiar difficulty at the beginning beginning that defies explanation in purely hedonistic terms. If the reluctance to start were wholly due to our aversion to the task, we would continue to experience it after we had begun. The second sentence of the letter would be just as that defies explanation in purely hedonistic terms. If the reluctance to start were wholly due to our aversion to the task, we would continue to experience it after we had begun. The second sentence of the letter would be just as stressful as the first. We would always be falling away from our engagement with the task and having again to overcome our procrastinative tendencies. But in fact the initial struggle with procrastination is usually enough to see us through. Of course, this is sometimes due to our discovery that the work wasn't as bad as we had expected. But often we know exactly what to expect before we begin. We've written letters many times before, and it's always been the same. We know that the job will prove to be easy once we get started. And still we delay. We may even procrastinate before enjoying our pleasures. We perform quaint but apparently useless cleansing and ordering rituals before settling down with a good book. Evidently, there are forces other than displeasure at work here. stressful as the first. We would always be falling away from our engagement with the task and having again to overcome our procrastinative tendencies. But in fact the initial struggle with procrastination is usually enough to see us through. Of course, this is sometimes due to our discovery that the work wasn't as bad as we had expected. But often we know exactly what to expect before we begin. We've written letters many times before, and it's always been the same. We know that the job will prove to be easy once we get started. And still we delay. We may even procrastinate before enjoying our pleasures. We perform quaint but apparently useless cleansing and ordering rituals before settling down with a good book. Evidently, there are forces other than displeasure at work here.

One of these forces is a c.u.mulative and unconscious resistance resistance against abandoning the sum total of all the unfinished business in our life. When we procrastinate, we seem to be free of any prior agenda. But the experience of an un.o.bligated moment is a rare event for those who haven't rid themselves of mental traps. Every project that has ever been on our agenda and not been brought to completion is on our agenda still. The against abandoning the sum total of all the unfinished business in our life. When we procrastinate, we seem to be free of any prior agenda. But the experience of an un.o.bligated moment is a rare event for those who haven't rid themselves of mental traps. Every project that has ever been on our agenda and not been brought to completion is on our agenda still. The press of more immediate concerns may have forced us to set these activities aside. But mental inertia doesn't simply evaporate when it's overcome. When the time arrives to start something new, the unfinished business of our life returns in a flood, clamoring for completion. Before we can turn our attention to reading a book, we need to press of more immediate concerns may have forced us to set these activities aside. But mental inertia doesn't simply evaporate when it's overcome. When the time arrives to start something new, the unfinished business of our life returns in a flood, clamoring for completion. Before we can turn our attention to reading a book, we need to exorcize exorcize ourselves. We have to tear ourselves away from the ever-present backlog of competing claims for our time. ourselves. We have to tear ourselves away from the ever-present backlog of competing claims for our time.

We've seen that some mental traps involve us in projects that are literally endless. Striving to antic.i.p.ate the future course of our life, we always have another day or another year to account for. The desire for absolute certainty or absolute precision requires us to amplify without end. The more we fall prey to traps like these, the greater will be our tendency to procrastinate before beginning something new. Once such a trap finds its way into our agenda, we have something to occupy us forever after. Every time we sit down to read or write a letter, we have to convince ourselves anew that our career plans won't suffer from being put aside for the evening. In the meantime, the world will continue to present us with new tasks; and we will get busier and busier, until we can no longer notice the taste of our food without engaging in a colossal struggle to clear our head. busier, until we can no longer notice the taste of our food without engaging in a colossal struggle to clear our head.

It's this continuous burden of unfulfilled agendas that explains the most striking fact of all about our mental life: the fact that we're always thinking. Our mental engine is always in drive. As soon as we find ourselves between tasks, we're overwhelmed by ideas related to our inexhaustible fund of unfinished projects. We resume our antic.i.p.ation of futures without end and our reversion to immutable past failures. We should have done this; we will do that. It isn't surprising that we procrastinate when a call to the new always finds us already occupied.

The burden of unfulfilled agendas also explains a rather odd behavioral phenomenon. We're in the habit of postponing the start of a new activity until some definite point in the future that is thought to be more opportune than the present. The oddity is that these points are selected for some calendrical calendrical property rather than for any characteristics that relate them to the activity itself. We decide to start our diet next Monday, as though a Monday were more suitable than a Thursday. We say that it "might as well" property rather than for any characteristics that relate them to the activity itself. We decide to start our diet next Monday, as though a Monday were more suitable than a Thursday. We say that it "might as well" wait until the start of the week, whatever that means. New Year's resolutions belong to the same category of phenomena. If we're convinced that a course of action is desirable for us, why do we delay its adoption until the first of the year? wait until the start of the week, whatever that means. New Year's resolutions belong to the same category of phenomena. If we're convinced that a course of action is desirable for us, why do we delay its adoption until the first of the year?

In part, such postponements are a device for permitting us to procrastinate while holding on to the illusion that we're dealing with the situation. Instead of conducting conducting our business today, we our business today, we schedule schedule it for Monday and feel that it's already as good as done. After all, it will have been done by Tuesday. We need only endure the pa.s.sage of time and it'll all be over. When Monday comes, of course, we can simply reschedule the task for a later date. In this way, we manage to procrastinate forever, remaining all the while convinced that we've let nothing slip. it for Monday and feel that it's already as good as done. After all, it will have been done by Tuesday. We need only endure the pa.s.sage of time and it'll all be over. When Monday comes, of course, we can simply reschedule the task for a later date. In this way, we manage to procrastinate forever, remaining all the while convinced that we've let nothing slip.

But this doesn't yet explain our predilection for special calendar dates. Why do we more often reschedule the start of a new venture for a Monday rather than a Thursday? The reason is that many of the other activities on our agenda are tied to the official divisions of the calendar. The modern industrial week, for example, is rigidly divided into five days of work followed by two days of play. Work-related projects that would suffer from a two-day hiatus are therefore timed to end by Friday. As a result, we're less preoccupied with ongoing business affairs on the following Monday than earlier in the week, and new projects find us less resistant. The long holiday season preceding New Year's Day is even more effective than the weekend in this regard. Many of our projects are geared to terminate before the holidays begin, and the acc.u.mulation of new obligations doesn't reach serious proportions until the first working day of the new year. In the interim, we feel less busy. Hence we're more inclined to embark on new ventures. would suffer from a two-day hiatus are therefore timed to end by Friday. As a result, we're less preoccupied with ongoing business affairs on the following Monday than earlier in the week, and new projects find us less resistant. The long holiday season preceding New Year's Day is even more effective than the weekend in this regard. Many of our projects are geared to terminate before the holidays begin, and the acc.u.mulation of new obligations doesn't reach serious proportions until the first working day of the new year. In the interim, we feel less busy. Hence we're more inclined to embark on new ventures.

Is making New Year's resolutions a trap? It can be, if it's used merely as an excuse for postponing a necessary activity. But the backlog of unfinished business is is lighter on New Year's Day, as a result of which new ventures lighter on New Year's Day, as a result of which new ventures do do have a better chance of getting off the ground. Thus starting on New Year's Day may also be a strategic response to the backlog, in which case it have a better chance of getting off the ground. Thus starting on New Year's Day may also be a strategic response to the backlog, in which case it isn't isn't a trap. It's carrying around the backlog of past reversions and unfulfilled antic.i.p.ations that's a trap. If we were entirely free of traps, we wouldn't carry around a burdensome backlog of unfinished business. There would then be no point to making New a trap. It's carrying around the backlog of past reversions and unfulfilled antic.i.p.ations that's a trap. If we were entirely free of traps, we wouldn't carry around a burdensome backlog of unfinished business. There would then be no point to making New Year's resolutions-starting on January Year's resolutions-starting on January 1 1 would be indistinguishable from starting on May would be indistinguishable from starting on May 12 12. When we're totally free of traps, we live each day as though it were the start of a new millennium. But given that we are are trapped by a backlog of unfinished business, it makes sense to schedule the start of new activities at a time when the backlog loses a little weight. trapped by a backlog of unfinished business, it makes sense to schedule the start of new activities at a time when the backlog loses a little weight.

We've seen that the backlog of unfinished business provides an explanation for the basic phenomenon of procrastination: the reluctance to engage in a new project even though we seem to be unoccupied. The backlog also explains why we make New Year's resolutions and why we are always thinking. But it doesn't explain the most striking phenomenon of all relating to procrastination: the special difficulty at the start start of new enterprises. The backlog functions as a source of tendencies that compete with the tendency to engage in the new project-but there's no reason to suppose that the compet.i.tion is any stronger at the start of the new project than after the new project has already been begun. So why is writing the first sentence of a letter more difficult than writing the second sentence? of new enterprises. The backlog functions as a source of tendencies that compete with the tendency to engage in the new project-but there's no reason to suppose that the compet.i.tion is any stronger at the start of the new project than after the new project has already been begun. So why is writing the first sentence of a letter more difficult than writing the second sentence?

Here is a plausible explanation. Once the new project has been begun, it generates its own inertia in amounts that are normally sufficient to overcome the inertial pull of the backlog. We've been a.s.suming that a goal generates inertia as soon as we form the intention of achieving it. If this is so, then the inertia of the new project would have its countervailing effect right from the start. But suppose that starting a new project is a two-step procedure; first we formulate our intention to undertake the project, and second we perform the mental equivalent of pressing an "enter" key. Suppose also that the inertial tendency to complete what was begun is produced only when the intention is "entered." In effect, pressing the enter key is the first bit of work that needs to be done on any project. After the intention is entered, the new project will have its own inertia to keep it from being sidetracked by the backlog. But the first step of entering the intention has no such support. If this is how intentional action works, then we would expect to experience difficulties in getting started that disappear once we're on the way. project has been begun, it generates its own inertia in amounts that are normally sufficient to overcome the inertial pull of the backlog. We've been a.s.suming that a goal generates inertia as soon as we form the intention of achieving it. If this is so, then the inertia of the new project would have its countervailing effect right from the start. But suppose that starting a new project is a two-step procedure; first we formulate our intention to undertake the project, and second we perform the mental equivalent of pressing an "enter" key. Suppose also that the inertial tendency to complete what was begun is produced only when the intention is "entered." In effect, pressing the enter key is the first bit of work that needs to be done on any project. After the intention is entered, the new project will have its own inertia to keep it from being sidetracked by the backlog. But the first step of entering the intention has no such support. If this is how intentional action works, then we would expect to experience difficulties in getting started that disappear once we're on the way.

Procrastination is a resistance to engaging in a new task even though we seem seem to be unoccupied. to be unoccupied. We've discussed one cause of this phenomenon: the inertial compet.i.tion generated by the backlog of unfinished business. Here we seem to be unoccupied because what we're occupied with-the backlog-is always present. Another cause of procrastination is that the new task may find us already busy We've discussed one cause of this phenomenon: the inertial compet.i.tion generated by the backlog of unfinished business. Here we seem to be unoccupied because what we're occupied with-the backlog-is always present. Another cause of procrastination is that the new task may find us already busy doing-nothing. doing-nothing. Now doing-nothing, like the fixated activity of suspension, is indistinguishable from being unoccupied when viewed from the outside. Let's refer to the state of being unoccupied as the state of Now doing-nothing, like the fixated activity of suspension, is indistinguishable from being unoccupied when viewed from the outside. Let's refer to the state of being unoccupied as the state of not-doing-anything. not-doing-anything. Not-doing-anything means not having an agenda, not trying to achieve any result. Doing-nothing, on the other hand, occurs when we Not-doing-anything means not having an agenda, not trying to achieve any result. Doing-nothing, on the other hand, occurs when we resolve resolve not to do anything. Like every other project, doing-nothing generates a certain amount of resistance against starting anything else. Viewed from the outside, it may appear that we hesitate to start even though we have nothing to do. In reality, the new task intrudes upon our planned nothingness. If we were really not-doing-anything, there would be nothing to intrude upon and we would not procrastinate. not to do anything. Like every other project, doing-nothing generates a certain amount of resistance against starting anything else. Viewed from the outside, it may appear that we hesitate to start even though we have nothing to do. In reality, the new task intrudes upon our planned nothingness. If we were really not-doing-anything, there would be nothing to intrude upon and we would not procrastinate.

Since doing-nothing causes us to procrastinate, it would be wise to give up the habit altogether. This doesn't mean that we should always be busy. On the contrary, a certain amount of not-doing-anything is necessary in the economy of every living being. Even automobiles need to be turned off and allowed to cool. But doing-nothing is actually incompatible with not-doing-anything. It's a form of keeping busy. Not-doing-anything is a subtle frame of mind, however. As soon as we On the contrary, a certain amount of not-doing-anything is necessary in the economy of every living being. Even automobiles need to be turned off and allowed to cool. But doing-nothing is actually incompatible with not-doing-anything. It's a form of keeping busy. Not-doing-anything is a subtle frame of mind, however. As soon as we resolve resolve to attain it, it's lost. Instead we make ourselves busy doing-nothing. We become guarded, tense, determined, and jealous of our time. Not-doing-anything isn't something we can to attain it, it's lost. Instead we make ourselves busy doing-nothing. We become guarded, tense, determined, and jealous of our time. Not-doing-anything isn't something we can decide decide to do. There are no instructions for it, since instructions can only tell us how to to do. There are no instructions for it, since instructions can only tell us how to do do things. The attempt not to do anything therefore always fails in its objective. This is the downfall of many vacations. The problem of how not to do anything will be discussed again in the last chapter. things. The attempt not to do anything therefore always fails in its objective. This is the downfall of many vacations. The problem of how not to do anything will be discussed again in the last chapter.

We're especially liable to procrastinate when the task that lies ahead is very large. It's harder to start writing a novel than a letter, or to start was.h.i.+ng a week's acc.u.mulation of dishes rather than a single teacup. The explanation of this phenomenon isn't as obvious as it first seems. To be sure, a big job is more arduous than a little one. But it doesn't automatically follow that starting starting the big job is more difficult than the big job is more difficult than starting starting the little one. Objectively, it's just as easy to start was.h.i.+ng a great heap of dishes as a single cup. In either case, we simply pick up an object and start to wipe. Finis.h.i.+ng is another matter. But why are we more likely to wash the solitary cup without procrastinating than to wash the first item of a heap and then quit? the little one. Objectively, it's just as easy to start was.h.i.+ng a great heap of dishes as a single cup. In either case, we simply pick up an object and start to wipe. Finis.h.i.+ng is another matter. But why are we more likely to wash the solitary cup without procrastinating than to wash the first item of a heap and then quit?

The culprit is a particular form of antic.i.p.ation. Instead of deciding whether to begin begin the new job, we decide right from the start whether we will commit ourselves to the entire project. Since large enterprises call for a large investment of time and energy, it's natural that we entertain doubts before making such a commitment. But unless we're asked to sign a contract, there's no need for a commitment in the first place. The only question that needs an immediate reply is whether to start. Unless we the new job, we decide right from the start whether we will commit ourselves to the entire project. Since large enterprises call for a large investment of time and energy, it's natural that we entertain doubts before making such a commitment. But unless we're asked to sign a contract, there's no need for a commitment in the first place. The only question that needs an immediate reply is whether to start. Unless we have to have to make a commitment for some definite purpose, it's antic.i.p.atory to decide make a commitment for some definite purpose, it's antic.i.p.atory to decide now now that we that we will will surely proceed to the end. After all, circ.u.mstances may change in such a way that finis.h.i.+ng becomes unnecessary or undesirable, in which case our deciding will have been in vain. Even if the desirability of finis.h.i.+ng is beyond all doubt, no purpose is served by surely proceed to the end. After all, circ.u.mstances may change in such a way that finis.h.i.+ng becomes unnecessary or undesirable, in which case our deciding will have been in vain. Even if the desirability of finis.h.i.+ng is beyond all doubt, no purpose is served by obliging ourselves to finish. The value that persuades us to take the first step will presumably still be around to persuade us of the second step without the artificial aid of a commitment. obliging ourselves to finish. The value that persuades us to take the first step will presumably still be around to persuade us of the second step without the artificial aid of a commitment.

The real choice before us is whether to begin. And the beginning of even the vastest undertaking is as simple as fetching paper and pen or picking up a cup. Was.h.i.+ng one cup is nothing to think twice about. And having washed it, we find the second cup just as inconsiderable. In this way, we eventually finish the job without subjecting ourselves to the useless and unpleasant burden of a self-imposed obligation. Of course we may throw in the sponge at any moment. But why deny ourselves this freedom? We can choose to go on if we wish. And if we quit, at least one cup will already be clean.

A proverb on our side for a change: the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

If a company of angels came down to escort us to Heaven, we would undoubtedly procrastinate. For how can we make a clean break with the past when there are so many loose ends to tie up? We're only one semester away from our degree. The business is just beginning to make money. We've almost finished reading We've almost finished reading War and Peace. War and Peace. Of course we want to go to Heaven. But it would be so much more convenient to postpone our trip until everything is settled. Then we can enter into our new estate with a clear mind. Of course we want to go to Heaven. But it would be so much more convenient to postpone our trip until everything is settled. Then we can enter into our new estate with a clear mind.

But everything is already already settled and always has been. The task before us is never more than one moment long. A moment later, we may be required to continue with what we're doing now. But that isn't our present concern. To be sure, we have ideas about what we will have to do in the future. But until the moment comes, these plans are no more than working hypotheses. Tomorrow everything may be entirely different. settled and always has been. The task before us is never more than one moment long. A moment later, we may be required to continue with what we're doing now. But that isn't our present concern. To be sure, we have ideas about what we will have to do in the future. But until the moment comes, these plans are no more than working hypotheses. Tomorrow everything may be entirely different.

We don't acc.u.mulate obligations. They come one at a time, and the previous one is canceled as soon as the next one takes effect. Our business is always already settled, our slate is always clean. There's no need to keep the angels waiting.

Division

-e fall into the trap of division division when we try to attend to two things at once. We partic.i.p.ate in a conversation with one ear while at the same time trying to solve a financial problem that's been preying on our mind. Just as our financial musings draw close to a conclusion, the conversation turns to us-and the delicate structure of our thought is scattered to oblivion. When we return to the problem, we have to reconstruct the previously established results. At the same time, our contribution to the conversation is very boring. when we try to attend to two things at once. We partic.i.p.ate in a conversation with one ear while at the same time trying to solve a financial problem that's been preying on our mind. Just as our financial musings draw close to a conclusion, the conversation turns to us-and the delicate structure of our thought is scattered to oblivion. When we return to the problem, we have to reconstruct the previously established results. At the same time, our contribution to the conversation is very boring.

The idea of doing two things at once needs some clarification. In a sense, we're always doing many things at the same time without suffering any ill effects. We continue to breathe while we're eating; we don't have to stop walking to look at the scenery. In these cases, however, at least one of the two activities doesn't require conscious attention. When we walk, we don't have to be continuously deciding to lift one leg and then the other. The proper sequence of events runs its course automatically. So long as they're automatic, we can perform any number of simultaneous acts. There seems to be no limit to our ability to turn skilled performances into automatized routines. An experienced automobile driver can get herself home in one piece, evidently stopping at every red light, while all the time absorbed in the contemplation of her business affairs. The sight of her own house suddenly looming before her sometimes takes her completely by surprise. And a trained pianist can play a creditable tune while chatting with friends. course automatically. So long as they're automatic, we can perform any number of simultaneous acts. There seems to be no limit to our ability to turn skilled performances into automatized routines. An experienced automobile driver can get herself home in one piece, evidently stopping at every red light, while all the time absorbed in the contemplation of her business affairs. The sight of her own house suddenly looming before her sometimes takes her completely by surprise. And a trained pianist can play a creditable tune while chatting with friends.

But it's a basic law of the mind that we can't consciously attend to consciously attend to two things at once. Strictly speaking, attention is indivisible. When we try to be conscious of two things, it may appear that we're allotting a portion of our attention to each. But closer introspection reveals either (1) that the whole of consciousness is being made to s.h.i.+ft back and forth between the two activities, or ( two things at once. Strictly speaking, attention is indivisible. When we try to be conscious of two things, it may appear that we're allotting a portion of our attention to each. But closer introspection reveals either (1) that the whole of consciousness is being made to s.h.i.+ft back and forth between the two activities, or (2) that one of the activities is relegated to the unconscious, automatic mode of operation. Let's look at each of these two possibilities in turn.

If the sequence of thoughts relating to activity A is represented by A1, A2, A3, and A4, and the thoughts relating to activity B are B1, B2, B3, and B and B4, the attempt to think them both at the same time results in a mixed stream mixed stream of ideas that looks like this: of ideas that looks like this: A1, A2, B1, A3, B2, B3, A4, B4.

These oscillations from one topic to the other may, however, be so rapid that we have the illusion of simultaneity. One moment we're listening to the conversation, the next moment we revert to a private problem, and the moment after that we're listening again. Most of the oscillations pa.s.s unnoticed, and in retrospect it seems to us that we've been listening and thinking at the same time.

Now the commonest motive for trying trying to do two things at once is a desire to expedite our work. By dividing attention, we hope to complete two tasks in the time it would ordinarily take to complete just one. But since we have to think our conscious thoughts one at a time, this procedure can never save us any steps. There are four As and four Bs to work our way through, regardless of the order they're taken in. On the other hand, when we oscillate away from thought stream A, we can't expect to pick it up again exactly where we left off. We have to to do two things at once is a desire to expedite our work. By dividing attention, we hope to complete two tasks in the time it would ordinarily take to complete just one. But since we have to think our conscious thoughts one at a time, this procedure can never save us any steps. There are four As and four Bs to work our way through, regardless of the order they're taken in. On the other hand, when we oscillate away from thought stream A, we can't expect to pick it up again exactly where we left off. We have to pick up the threads pick up the threads of the of the abandoned project abandoned project. The interpolated activity B having distracted us, we must at least remind ourselves of the last conclusions before we are able to proceed. Often we need to repeat entire sequences of thought whose conclusion had already been arrived at. When attention is divided, we are returned again and again to the same starting point, from which place we must again and again rethink the same ideas. A more accurate portrayal of divided thought would be: The interpolated activity B having distracted us, we must at least remind ourselves of the last conclusions before we are able to proceed. Often we need to repeat entire sequences of thought whose conclusion had already been arrived at. When attention is divided, we are returned again and again to the same starting point, from which place we must again and again rethink the same ideas. A more accurate portrayal of divided thought would be: A1, A2, B1, A2, A3, B1, B2, B3, A2, A3, A4, B3, B4.

Clearly it would be less arduous to do it like this: A1, A2, A3, A4, B1, B2, B3, B4.

Or like this: B1, B2, B3, B4, A1, A2, A3, A4.

This is why division is a trap.

Alternatively, the attempt to do two things at once may cause us to proceed with one of them at the unconscious level. We invest our private problem with continuous attention and fall into a pattern of automatic responding to someone we are conversing with: we smile and nod our head at everything he tells us. So long as the second task is thoroughly familiar and predictable, we will come to no harm. Some conversational partners never require more of us than an occasional token of approval. But if the course of events takes an unexpected turn, we may find ourselves in serious difficulties. We drive home with our mental gear in automatic, and the car in front of us screeches to a sudden halt. The bland spouter of conventionalities accuses us of wis.h.i.+ng him dead, and we smile and nod our head. problem with continuous attention and fall into a pattern of automatic responding to someone we are conversing with: we smile and nod our head at everything he tells us. So long as the second task is thoroughly familiar and predictable, we will come to no harm. Some conversational partners never require more of us than an occasional token of approval. But if the course of events takes an unexpected turn, we may find ourselves in serious difficulties. We drive home with our mental gear in automatic, and the car in front of us screeches to a sudden halt. The bland spouter of conventionalities accuses us of wis.h.i.+ng him dead, and we smile and nod our head.

Nevertheless, we must automatize some of our activities or else we could never do more than breathe. Unconsciousness per se is not an error. The trap is to try to do two things at once when we know that both of them require conscious attention. For then we can avoid the inefficiency of a mixed stream of thought only by the even less satisfactory route of letting our work on one of the tasks fall below the level of consciousness.

The fall from consciousness due to division is especially unfortunate when one of our activities is taken up for the sake of pleasure. In this case, we aren't so concerned with getting to the end as efficiently as possible. We don't mind having to take longer than necessary to eat a delicious dinner. But pleasure can't be relished without consciousness. If we try to think about our work while we're eating, we won't notice the taste of our food. Even if we manage to sustain a mixed stream, alternately paying attention to work and to pleasure, our pleasure will be reduced. And we won't do our best work. we aren't so concerned with getting to the end as efficiently as possible. We don't mind having to take longer than necessary to eat a delicious dinner. But pleasure can't be relished without consciousness. If we try to think about our work while we're eating, we won't notice the taste of our food. Even if we manage to sustain a mixed stream, alternately paying attention to work and to pleasure, our pleasure will be reduced. And we won't do our best work.

Division is usually a secondary complication arising out of a previous case of antic.i.p.ation or resistance, as pneumonia may develop from a cold. We enter into the divided state by taking on a second project before finis.h.i.+ng or setting aside something already begun. We're busy with our algebra homework, but our thoughts begin to drift toward the romantic encounter we have planned for later in the evening. Now either the homework is more important to us right now, or romance is more important. We may decide this issue any way we wish. If getting the homework done now takes precedence over expediting our love life, we're guilty of antic.i.p.ation. And if romance is an immediate imperative, we're guilty of resistance for not flinging aside our books and flying to our lover.

Now and then we may be unable to decide which of two activities is the more pressing. In that case, we should select one of them arbitrarily. For either order is preferable to a mixed stream of both at the same time. Forget about finances and enjoy the conversation. Or kick out the guests and return to the accounts. It doesn't matter which option you choose. Just don't get stuck in the middle.

In a previous chapter previous chapter we saw that mental traps cause the amount of unfinished business in our life to be always on the increase. The world is always presenting us with new problems, but we're never quite finished with the old. We persist at tasks that have lost their meaning, amplify molehills into literally infinite mountains, revert to issues that are over and done with, and so on. As a result, there's always something to take our attention away from the task at hand. Every time we sit down to read a book, we're attacked by hordes of extraneous ideas relating to other times and other places. There are bills to be paid, children's teeth to be straightened, raises to be asked for, letters to write, ancient injuries to avenge, retirement plans to finalize ... How can we saw that mental traps cause the amount of unfinished business in our life to be always on the increase. The world is always presenting us with new problems, but we're never quite finished with the old. We persist at tasks that have lost their meaning, amplify molehills into literally infinite mountains, revert to issues that are over and done with, and so on. As a result, there's always something to take our attention away from the task at hand. Every time we sit down to read a book, we're attacked by hordes of extraneous ideas relating to other times and other places. There are bills to be paid, children's teeth to be straightened, raises to be asked for, letters to write, ancient injuries to avenge, retirement plans to finalize ... How can we simply sit and read when there's so much else happening at the same time? we simply sit and read when there's so much else happening at the same time?

We may live for years-even for a lifetime- in such a state of chronic division chronic division, always trying to hold all our unresolved problems in consciousness simultaneously instead of setting the burden down and picking up one item at a time. The penalty for chronic division is severe. Our skills and apt.i.tudes are curtailed as surely as if we suffered brain damage-and we cease to experience pleasure.

A folk remedy for the ills of division is the habit of saving the best for last. saving the best for last. As children, we ate the less favored sandwich crusts first, so that we might savor the soft middle portion without interruption. Now we open our mail in reverse order of interest-first the bills and advertising circulars, then the business letters, finally the personal correspondence. We put all our free hours at the end of the day, after all the ch.o.r.es are done, instead of taking a long break in the middle. Perhaps we design our whole life along this plan, deferring travels and adventures, the profound study of the saxophone, the cultivation of a garden-whatever truly attracts us-until after we've made ourselves financially secure. As children, we ate the less favored sandwich crusts first, so that we might savor the soft middle portion without interruption. Now we open our mail in reverse order of interest-first the bills and advertising circulars, then the business letters, finally the personal correspondence. We put all our free hours at the end of the day, after all the ch.o.r.es are done, instead of taking a long break in the middle. Perhaps we design our whole life along this plan, deferring travels and adventures, the profound study of the saxophone, the cultivation of a garden-whatever truly attracts us-until after we've made ourselves financially secure.

The motive for this policy is very clear. If we live the best parts of life before the worst, our pleasure in them will be diminished by worries about what comes next. Better to get the sandwich crusts out of the way and not have them hanging over our head like a cloud! This is perfectly sound advice as far as it goes. If our pleasure in the best will will be diminished by intrusions from the worst-to-come, it's better to get the worst over with first. But to permit such intrusions is already to fall into the trap of division. The situation is reminiscent of New Year's resolutions, discussed earlier. These are not themselves traps, but their usefulness is contingent on our having fallen into traps. Similarly, saving the best for last is not itself a trap. So long as we divide, we must defer our pleasures in order to enjoy them fully. But it's better not to divide in the first place. When we cease to divide, we no longer have a reason to save the best for last. We can take our pleasures any time we like. be diminished by intrusions from the worst-to-come, it's better to get the worst over with first. But to permit such intrusions is already to fall into the trap of division. The situation is reminiscent of New Year's resolutions, discussed earlier. These are not themselves traps, but their usefulness is contingent on our having fallen into traps. Similarly, saving the best for last is not itself a trap. So long as we divide, we must defer our pleasures in order to enjoy them fully. But it's better not to divide in the first place. When we cease to divide, we no longer have a reason to save the best for last. We can take our pleasures any time we like.

Note that the technique of saving the best for last is ineffective in cases of chronic division. The chronic divider always has something preying on his mind that has to be settled before he can enjoy himself. The house is never perfectly perfectly clean, the clean, the future never future never totally totally secure. The attempt to get secure. The attempt to get everything everything settled before enjoying the best of life results in settled before enjoying the best of life results in the perpetual postponement of pleasure. the perpetual postponement of pleasure. And that surely is a trap. It's unwise to save the middle portion of the sandwich for the end when the crusts are infinitely long. And that surely is a trap. It's unwise to save the middle portion of the sandwich for the end when the crusts are infinitely long.

Another attempt to recapture the pleasure lost by division is to cancel all competing activities. We decide that we definitely will not not make a difficult telephone call this evening, so that our enjoyment of dinner will be undiminished by intrusive thoughts. In this way we hope to lay the ghost to rest. make a difficult telephone call this evening, so that our enjoyment of dinner will be undiminished by intrusive thoughts. In this way we hope to lay the ghost to rest.

But this exorcism lands us immediately in the trap of negative antic.i.p.ation: negative antic.i.p.ation: deciding prematurely deciding prematurely not not to do something. By a commitment not to make the telephone call, we purchase peace of mind at the cost of leaving an important ch.o.r.e undone. Peace of mind, however, may be had for free if only we cease to divide. We would enjoy our dinner at least as much if we simply put the issue of the telephone call entirely out of mind. There's no need to make a decision yet. If we approach the evening openly, with neither positive nor negative agendas, a moment may come when making the telephone call doesn't seem so to do something. By a commitment not to make the telephone call, we purchase peace of mind at the cost of leaving an important ch.o.r.e undone. Peace of mind, however, may be had for free if only we cease to divide. We would enjoy our dinner at least as much if we simply put the issue of the telephone call entirely out of mind. There's no need to make a decision yet. If we approach the evening openly, with neither positive nor negative agendas, a moment may come when making the telephone call doesn't seem so odious. And then it will get done without our having had to think about it beforehand. Of course there can be no guarantees-the phone call may not get made. But nothing is to be gained by excluding the possibility of an easy solution right from the start. odious. And then it will get done without our having had to think about it beforehand. Of course there can be no guarantees-the phone call may not get made. But nothing is to be gained by excluding the possibility of an easy solution right from the start.

Saving the best for last and negative antic.i.p.ation are no more than symptomatic treatments for the division disease. Ultimately the only remedy that will restore our efficiency and our capacity for pleasure is to stop dividing. The technique for achieving this cure is constant practice in doing one thing at a time. constant practice in doing one thing at a time. Every single affair of the day is a suitable occasion for this important exercise. When we eat, we can practice just eating. When we wash the dishes, we can practice just was.h.i.+ng. When we balance the checkbook, we can practice just doing arithmetic. Even the most insignificant acts-walking to the store, buying a newspaper-or the most odious-cleaning the toilet- have at least this element of value, if only we choose to harvest it: they're opportunities to practice single-mindedness. Every single affair of the day is a suitable occasion for this important exercise. When we eat, we can practice just eating. When we wash the dishes, we can practice just was.h.i.+ng. When we balance the checkbook, we can practice just doing arithmetic. Even the most insignificant acts-walking to the store, buying a newspaper-or the most odious-cleaning the toilet- have at least this element of value, if only we choose to harvest it: they're opportunities to practice single-mindedness.

The greater the penalty for division, the easier we find it to keep our attention on a single task. Most of us would have no difficulty keeping our undivided attention on driving down a narrow, winding mountain road on a stormy night. If life doesn't throw enough of these challenging circ.u.mstances our way, we would benefit by creating them intentionally. There's no more excellent tonic for division than to position ourselves halfway up a perpendicular cliff. our undivided attention on driving down a narrow, winding mountain road on a stormy night. If life doesn't throw enough of these challenging circ.u.mstances our way, we would benefit by creating them intentionally. There's no more excellent tonic for division than to position ourselves halfway up a perpendicular cliff.

Once we've mastered the elementary exercises of remaining undivided during mountain climbing, tightrope walking, and hand-to-hand combat, we may graduate to the more demanding practices that arise in everyday life, such as eating and was.h.i.+ng dishes. A still more advanced practice is to select an activity that is at once dull, useless, and thoroughly familiar, and to attend to it fully for a set period of time. Many of the practices that fall under the loose heading of meditation have exactly this purpose in mind. In some traditional approaches to mental development, students spend twenty minutes a day counting their breaths from one to ten over and over again. Mastery comes when they're not distracted from the count during the entire sitting. The benefit of this activity for everyday life may not be evident to those who don't attempt it. But neither are the benefits of lifting heavy weights and setting them down. Both are special exercises for strengthening our capacity to meet the requirements of living. down. Both are special exercises for strengthening our capacity to meet the requirements of living.

Counting breaths doesn't sound like a very difficult a.s.signment. But it would be astonis.h.i.+ng to find anyone who could count her breaths for twenty minutes without previous practice. The beginner would do well to start with five minutes and gradually build up. Even at five minutes she can't expect immediate success. Long before the time is up, she will have wandered off into the fathomless realm of her life's unfinished business.

When we catch our mind wandering away from the count, we should simply start again with the number one, as though nothing had happened. Every time we do this, we increase our ability to remain undivided as surely as each lift of the barbell improves our physique. After two or three months of daily practice, the increment in our mental efficiency and in the pleasure derived from daily life is so noticeable as to take almost all pract.i.tioners by surprise. It's hard to believe that such an intrinsically trivial activity can do so much. The same can be said of pumping iron.

The major obstacle to regular practice of this exercise is the impression that it's too boring to get through. This is nothing more than a rationalization. How can typists tolerate typing and a.s.sembly-line workers stick rods into sockets for eight hours if we can't endure five minutes of tedium? Can anything in the world possibly be so dull? It isn't boredom that makes us quit. We start to count our breaths and are shocked to discover that we can't perform what seems to be a trivially easy task. It's hard for us to admit that our mind is so totally out of control. So we tell ourselves that we rationalization. How can typists tolerate typing and a.s.sembly-line workers stick rods into sockets for eight hours if we can't endure five minutes of tedium? Can anything in the world possibly be so dull? It isn't boredom that makes us quit. We start to count our breaths and are shocked to discover that we can't perform what seems to be a trivially easy task. It's hard for us to admit that our mind is so totally out of control. So we tell ourselves that we could could have done it if we wished, but that it was too boring. Then we go to our desk and make out bills for the next hour. This absurd rationalization may be dispensed with if we understand from the start that counting breaths doesn't come easily to anyone. We're bound to fail in our first attempts. If it were easy, there would be no point to it. have done it if we wished, but that it was too boring. Then we go to our desk and make out bills for the next hour. This absurd rationalization may be dispensed with if we understand from the start that counting breaths doesn't come easily to anyone. We're bound to fail in our first attempts. If it were easy, there would be no point to it.

The Universe never asks more than one thing of us at a time. In the midst of a thousand desperate emergencies, we have only to attend to the most most desperate emergency. The remaining desperate emergency. The remaining 999 999 are simply not our concern. To be sure, disaster may strike if we don't get to them in time. But in this respect, the objective situation is really the same as in our unharried moments. Having taken care are simply not our concern. To be sure, disaster may strike if we don't get to them in time. But in this respect, the objective situation is really the same as in our unharried moments. Having taken care of all the business that seemed urgent, we may step out of the house and be run over by a truck. It's only because we don't think of it that the menace of trucks doesn't make us feel more busy. Trucks don't of all the business that seemed urgent, we may step out of the house and be run over by a truck. It's only because we don't think of it that the menace of trucks doesn't make us feel more busy. Trucks don't present present themselves to us as a problem. But neither are we presented with the themselves to us as a problem. But neither are we presented with the known known problems that can't yet be dealt with. For the time being, they can also be put out of mind. We accomplish nothing useful by trying to hold them in consciousness. And the attempt to hold them interferes with our work on the task at hand. problems that can't yet be dealt with. For the time being, they can also be put out of mind. We accomplish nothing useful by trying to hold them in consciousness. And the attempt to hold them interferes with our work on the task at hand.

In reality, there's never more than one thing to do. Being too busy is always a trap.

Acceleration

-cceleration is the trap of acting at a faster than optimal rate. We repair a broken appliance so hurriedly that we make mistakes and the appliance immediately breaks down again. As a result, the resources that were devoted to this project have gone to waste. We might as well have done nothing at all. is the trap of acting at a faster than optimal rate. We repair a broken appliance so hurriedly that we make mistakes and the appliance immediately breaks down again. As a result, the resources that were devoted to this project have gone to waste. We might as well have done nothing at all.

Acceleration is a mirror image of procrastination. When we procrastinate, we are slow to start: we put off getting to work on the broken appliance with one excuse after another. When we accelerate, we're too quick to finish: we don't give the task its due measure of time and attention. These two traps are by no means incompatible. Sometimes we procrastinate at the beginning and then accelerate to the end.

We need to make a distinction here between acceleration and simply moving quickly, which will be called hurrying. hurrying. We hurry but we do not accelerate when we run out of a burning building as fast as we can. On the other hand, an ordinary walking pace may already be accelerative when We hurry but we do not accelerate when we run out of a burning building as fast as we can. On the other hand, an ordinary walking pace may already be accelerative when we're making our way through a minefield. we're making our way through a minefield.

There are both advantages and disadvantages to doing things rapidly. The advantages are that (1)