This is The Nooner, a short daily (Monday - Saturday) newsletter slash podcast that has its very own section within Dispatches from Inner Space.
Every Sunday, I publish the Dispatches Weekly Digest (DWD), which lets you binge all the Nooners from the previous week. It also includes a meaningful song recommendation, and a short segment I call TMI, where I go off script to bring you backstage, so to speak.
Two more things about the DWD:
It goes on on the main Dispatches channel, so if you’re looking to spare your inbox from the daily emails without missing out on anything, you can specifically unsubscribe from The Nooner section, and still get the Digest on Sunday.
It’s only available to paid subscribers.
The Dispatches Weekly Digest is a labor of love, and I’m really proud of it, and if you want to hear it, I want you to hear it. So, if you can afford it…
And if you can’t, but you still think of yourself as one of my true fans, let me know and we’ll work something out.
Do all things for the love of doing them
Even the things you don’t like doing.
Maybe especially those.
All it takes is the decision to be mindful, to practice mindfulness. And the practice of mindfulness is nothing more or less than paying close attention to the present moment, the present task, the present vibe.
The closer we pay attention to what is happening now, what we are doing now, the more capable we are of enjoying it.
Try this on something you don’t like to do.
I used to hate doing the dishes, until I stopped trying to get it over with. Until I started appreciating the process itself, in ever more granular detail. The feeling of warm water running over my hands. The weight and shape of each dish. The parade of unique cleaning challenges. This one needs to be soaked, this one needs to be scrubbed, this one needs to be rinsed. This is the way the bristles pass over the softened tomato sauce. This is how hot water dissolves peanut butter. This is how the water builds up over the blocked drain, and this is how it moves when the disposal runs. This is the way the dishes fit together in the dishwasher. This is the sound of a towel pushed across clean glass.
Still, I sometimes resist doing the dishes. I’m tired or short on time. But then I remind myself that as soon as I start, the fatigue and anxiety will melt away under the ritual.
Another example:
My morning jog, and the pain in my ankles and knees at the start. How it slowly abates as my limbs warm to the movement. How my breath falls into a familiar rhythm. How the air feels as it enters through my nose, and leaves through my mouth. The smells in the air as I pass homes, restaurants, shops, offices. The sound of cars as they pass. The impact of my footfalls drowning out the beat of my heart. The way my thoughts get quieter and quieter, until they are less meaningful than the steady breeze in my ears. The way my skin starts to sweat, which carries the heat away from my body in a envelope of cooling air.
If this all sounds precious and overwritten, it’s because presence is poetic. If I’m really paying attention, I almost can’t help it.
My current challenge is to apply this to my work.
What is my work? It is to learn something new, or share something I know with someone else. It is to connect with other people, for whatever reason, however trivial-seeming. It is to ask and answer the question of how I can give someone a little bit of delight, or relief. It is to solve a series of small problems, an interconnected array of puzzles, that add up toward the larger goals that seem frightening or impossible from a distance. It is to ask for help, and offer it.
The unchanging practice is to let go of my expectations for what something could or should be, and instead focus as closely as possible on what it is, and trust that the joy of it, if not the pleasure, will reveal itself in its own way, in its own time.
This way of living and working might seem radical, or monkish, or maybe even pretentious, depending on your perspective and experience. But I’m convinced that it is the healthiest and most balanced way to do anything.
Everything, literally everything outside of the present moment is also entirely outside of our control, and should therefore be outside the scope of our concern. Not that we don’t care what happens, but that we let go of the madness of trying to control outcomes rather than actions.
And instead do all things for the love of doing them.
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