The Surprising Power of Boredom: It Lets You Confront Big Questions & Give Life Meaning

The twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry so far may seem light on major tech­no­log­i­cal break­throughs, at least when com­pared to the twen­ti­eth. An arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence boom (per­haps a bub­ble, per­haps not) has been tak­ing place over the past few years, which at least gives us some­thing to talk about. Before that, most of us would have named the smart­phone, for bet­ter or for worse, as the defin­ing devel­op­ment of our time. Relat­ed­ly, we could also zoom out and declare that humankind has elim­i­nat­ed bore­dom. But unlike, say, get­ting rid of small­pox, that achieve­ment has yield­ed mixed bless­ings at best. The rea­son is that, as Har­vard Busi­ness School pro­fes­sor Arthur C. Brooks puts it in the Har­vard Busi­ness Review video above, you need to be bored.

“Bore­dom is a ten­den­cy for us not to be occu­pied oth­er­wise, cog­ni­tive­ly, which switch­es over our think­ing sys­tem to use a part of our brain that’s called the default mode net­work,” Brooks says. In that mode, which kicks in absent any oth­er stim­u­la­tion, we must face “big ques­tions of mean­ing” — by their very nature, uncom­fort­able ones — in our lives. “One of the rea­sons we have such an explo­sion of depres­sion and anx­i­ety in our soci­ety today is because peo­ple actu­al­ly don’t know the mean­ing of their lives, much less so than in pre­vi­ous gen­er­a­tions.” What has insu­lat­ed us so com­plete­ly from the need even to con­sid­er it? Why, “that thing in your pock­et with the screen, which you take out even when you’re stand­ing on the street cor­ner, wait­ing for the light to change.”

“We all have pock­et-sized com­put­ers now,” wrote the jour­nal­ist Kaleb Hor­ton, who died last month, in a blog post from ear­li­er this year addressed to his own father in the nine­teen-eight­ies. “You can look up ency­clo­pe­dia arti­cles and stuff but you’ll most­ly use it for check­ing the stock mar­ket and play­ing a game called Can­dy Crush. It’s real­ly just some­thing to do with your hands, like cig­a­rettes.” To those suf­fer­ing the kind of strange malaise he sens­es beset­ting so many of us here in the hyper-con­nect­ed twen­ty-twen­ties, he offers rec­om­men­da­tions includ­ing the fol­low­ing: “Log off as hard as you can. Go out­side, talk to peo­ple in real life where it’s actu­al­ly kind of rude to talk about the news, try to actu­al­ly see the friends you usu­al­ly just text mes­sage. Go for a long dri­ve and turn the phone off while you do it. Get back into your hob­bies or pick one and learn it for a while.”

In oth­er words, get offline and “try out some of those nor­mal things you hear about and if you get bored that’s won­der­ful because we’re not sup­posed to get bored any­more. It turns out bore­dom is the Cadil­lac of feel­ings.” With­out it, we’re liable to find our­selves on the way to the junk­yard: “If every time you’re slight­ly bored, you pull out your phone,” Brooks says, “it’s going to get hard­er and hard­er for you to find mean­ing, and that’s the recipe for depres­sion and anx­i­ety and a sense of hol­low­ness, which, by the way, are all through the roof.” If you delib­er­ate­ly and reg­u­lar­ly go with­out check­ing your phone, or indeed expos­ing your­self to any oth­er source of elec­tron­ic stim­u­la­tion, you’ll build “the skill of bore­dom,” which will enable you not only to con­front life’s grand ques­tions, but also to be less bored with ordi­nary life — some­thing we should all learn to savor while we still can.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Ben­e­fits of Bore­dom: How to Stop Dis­tract­ing Your­self and Get Cre­ative Ideas Again

Lyn­da Bar­ry on How the Smart­phone Is Endan­ger­ing Three Ingre­di­ents of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Lone­li­ness, Uncer­tain­ty & Bore­dom

How to Take Advan­tage of Bore­dom, the Secret Ingre­di­ent of Cre­ativ­i­ty

David Lynch Explains How Med­i­ta­tion Boosts Our Cre­ativ­i­ty (Plus Free Resources to Help You Start Med­i­tat­ing)

Bored at Work? Here’s What Your Brain Is Try­ing to Tell You

Med­i­ta­tion for Begin­ners: Bud­dhist Monks & Teach­ers Explain the Basics

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What a Lack of Social Contact Does to Your Brain

To many of us, the con­cept of soli­tary con­fine­ment may not sound all that bad: final­ly, a reprieve from the siege of social and pro­fes­sion­al requests. Final­ly, a chance to catch up on all the read­ing we’ve been mean­ing to do. Final­ly, an envi­ron­ment con­ducive to this med­i­ta­tion thing about whose ben­e­fits we’ve heard so much. (Per­haps we made those very assur­ances to our­selves when the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic set in.) But accord­ing to the ani­mat­ed TED-Ed les­son above, writ­ten by psy­chi­a­trist and cor­rec­tion­al men­tal health expert Ter­ry Kupers, the neg­a­tives of the expe­ri­ence would well out­weigh the pos­i­tives. It all comes by way of answer­ing the ques­tion, “What hap­pens to your brain with­out any social con­tact?”

Unsur­pris­ing­ly, per­haps, iso­la­tion takes its great­est toll when imposed against the will of the iso­lat­ed, and even more so when imposed for an indef­i­nite dura­tion. “Ear­ly on, stress hor­mones may spike, and as time pass­es, that stress can become chron­ic,” says the video’s nar­ra­tor.

With­out the avail­abil­i­ty of social inter­ac­tions as “a sound­ing board where we can gauge how ratio­nal our per­cep­tions are,” one’s “sense of iden­ti­ty and real­i­ty becomes threat­ened.” The stage is there­fore set for “depres­sion, obses­sions, sui­ci­dal ideation, and, for some, delu­sions and hal­lu­ci­na­tions.” Sleep­ing dif­fi­cul­ties can man­i­fest on the more strict­ly phys­i­cal end, poten­tial­ly accom­pa­nied by “heart pal­pi­ta­tions, headaches, dizzi­ness, and hyper­sen­si­tiv­i­ty.”

While trav­el­ing in the Unit­ed States, Charles Dick­ens bore wit­ness to the pun­ish­ment by soli­tary con­fine­ment already in effect in Amer­i­can pris­ons, com­ing away with the impres­sion that it was “worse than any tor­ture of the body.” He wrote that after a vis­it to a Philadel­phia pen­i­ten­tiary, whose very name reflects the the­o­ry, held by the Quak­er groups who intro­duced the prac­tice in the late eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, that it could “bring about reflec­tion and pen­i­tence.” After much research on the mat­ter, Kupers has come to the con­clu­sion that, in fact, it “does immense dam­age that is con­trary to reha­bil­i­ta­tion, while fail­ing to reduce prison vio­lence.” If you’re read­ing this, you may not be espe­cial­ly like­ly to be sen­tenced to invol­un­tary con­fine­ment. But the next time you start feel­ing out of sorts for rea­sons you can’t pin down, con­sid­er how long it’s been since you’ve spent real time with real peo­ple.

Relat­ed con­tent:

What Hap­pens When You Spend Weeks, Months, or Years in Soli­tary Con­fine­ment

How Lone­li­ness Is Killing Us: A Primer from Har­vard Psy­chi­a­trist & Zen Priest Robert Waldinger

Mod­ern Art Was Used As a Tor­ture Tech­nique in Prison Cells Dur­ing the Span­ish Civ­il War

What an 85-Year-Long Har­vard Study Says Is the Real Key to Hap­pi­ness

On the Pow­er of Teach­ing Phi­los­o­phy in Pris­ons

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Meryl Streep’s First Film Role Was in an Animated Film on Erik Erikson’s Stages of Life (1976)

Dif­fi­cult as it may be to remem­ber now, there was a time when Meryl Streep was not yet syn­ony­mous with sil­ver-screen star­dom — a time, in fact, when she had yet to appear on the sil­ver screen at all. Half a cen­tu­ry ago, she was just anoth­er young stage actress in New York, albeit one rapid­ly ascend­ing the rungs of the­atri­cal pres­tige, doing three Shake­speare plays and then star­ring in Weill, Haupt­mann, and Brecht’s Hap­py End on Broad­way. The Deer Hunter, Kramer vs. Kramer, Out of Africa, Post­cards from the Edge, The Bridges of Madi­son Coun­ty: all this lay in her future in 1976, the year of her fea­ture debut.

Streep made that debut in Every­body Rides the Carousel, a now-obscure ani­mat­ed film that dra­ma­tizes post-Freudi­an psy­chol­o­gist Erik Erik­son’s eight stages of psy­choso­cial devel­op­ment. First pub­lished in his book Child­hood and Soci­ety in 1950, this scheme cap­tured the imag­i­na­tion of the mid-cen­tu­ry Amer­i­can pub­lic, grow­ing ever hun­gri­er as it was for clear, leg­i­ble sys­tems of self-under­stand­ing.

Erik­son con­ceived of each age of man as a strug­gle for res­o­lu­tion between two oppos­ing forces: in infan­cy, for exam­ple, trust ver­sus mis­trust; in ado­les­cence, iden­ti­ty ver­sus role con­fu­sion; and so on.

The young Meryl Streep, or rather her voice, appears in the sixth stage, ear­ly adult­hood, whose theme is love. She acts out that age’s con­test of inti­ma­cy and iso­la­tion with Charles Levin, anoth­er up-and-com­er who would go on to achieve wide recog­ni­tion on tele­vi­sion shows like AliceHill Street Blues, and (just once, but mem­o­rably) Sein­feld. In char­ac­ter as a young cou­ple unsteadi­ly feel­ing their way through their rela­tion­ship, the two engage in a remark­ably nat­u­ral­is­tic con­ver­sa­tion, all ani­mat­ed in a sev­en­ties water­col­or style in the vision of direc­tor John Hub­ley. A pro­lif­ic ani­ma­tor who’d worked on Dis­ney’s Fan­ta­sia, Hub­ley was known as the cre­ator of Mr. Magoo: a man who pro­vid­ed us all with an exam­ple of how to nav­i­gate late adult­hood’s path between ego integri­ty and despair, how­ev­er myopi­cal­ly.

via Messy Nessy

Relat­ed con­tent:

Watch Meryl Streep Have Fun with Accents: Bronx, Pol­ish, Irish, Aus­tralian, Yid­dish & More

Social Psy­chol­o­gist Erich Fromm Diag­noses Why Peo­ple Wear a Mask of Hap­pi­ness in Mod­ern Soci­ety (1977)

Mas­ter of Light: A Close Look at the Paint­ings of Johannes Ver­meer Nar­rat­ed by Meryl Streep

Mar­cel Marceau Mimes the Pro­gres­sion of Human Life, From Birth to Death, in 4 Min­utes

Meryl Streep Gives Grad­u­a­tion Speech at Barnard

Hear Meryl Streep Read Sylvia Plath’s “Morn­ing Song,” a Poem Writ­ten After the Birth of Her Daugh­ter

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Hermann Rorschach’s Original Rorschach Test: What Do You See? (1921)

There is a well-known scene in Woody Allen’s Take The Mon­ey And Run (1969) when Vir­gil Stark­well (Allen) takes a psy­cho­log­i­cal test to join the Navy, but is thwart­ed by his las­civ­i­ous uncon­scious. The psy­cho­log­i­cal mea­sure that proves to be Starkwell’s undoing—rejected, he turns to a life of crime—is the Rorschach inkblot test, devised a cen­tu­ry ago by Carl Jung’s com­pa­tri­ot and fel­low psy­chol­o­gist, Her­mann Rorschach. Although Rorschach would die young, at 37, his name­sake remains embed­ded in our per­cep­tion of psy­chol­o­gy, along­side Freud’s couch and Pavlov’s dog.

Her­mann Rorschach’s father was an art teacher, and encour­aged his son to express him­self. Whether the young Rorschach had innate artis­tic lean­ings, or had begun to lis­ten to his father more close­ly after the death of his moth­er at age 12, is uncer­tain. What is known, how­ev­er, is that Her­mann became so fas­ci­nat­ed with mak­ing pic­tures out of inkblots—a Swiss game known under the delight­ful des­ig­na­tion of Kleck­sog­ra­phy—that his school­mates gave him the nick­name of Klecks.

Although he strug­gled to choose between art and sci­ence as a career, Rorschach, on the coun­sel of emi­nent Ger­man biol­o­gist and ardent Dar­win sup­port­er Ernst Haeck­el, chose med­i­cine, spe­cial­iz­ing in psy­chol­o­gy. Still, he nev­er aban­doned art.

Even before the young Rorschach began to study psy­chol­o­gy, the med­ical pro­fes­sion had flirt­ed with imagery asso­ci­a­tion. In 1857, a Ger­man doc­tor named Justi­nus Kern­er pub­lished a book of poet­ry, with each poem inspired by an accom­pa­ny­ing inkblot. Alfred Binet, the father of intel­li­gence test­ing, also tin­kered with inkblots at the out­set of the 20th cen­tu­ry, see­ing them as a poten­tial mea­sure of cre­ativ­i­ty. While the claim that Rorschach was famil­iar with these par­tic­u­lar inkblots rests on con­jec­ture, we know that he was famil­iar with the work of Szy­mon Hens, an ear­ly psy­chol­o­gist who explored his patients’ fan­tasies using inkblots, as well as Carl Jung’s prac­tice of hav­ing his patients engage in word-asso­ci­a­tion.

After notic­ing that schiz­o­phrenic patients asso­ci­at­ed vast­ly dif­fer­ent things with inkblots than oth­er patients, Rorschach, fol­low­ing  some exper­i­men­ta­tion, cre­at­ed the first ver­sion of the inkblot test as a mea­sure of schiz­o­phre­nia in 1921. The test, how­ev­er, only came to be used as a form of per­son­al­i­ty assess­ment when Samuel Beck and Bruno Klopfer expand­ed its orig­i­nal scope in the late 1930s. Since then, psy­chol­o­gists have fre­quent­ly used the var­i­ous aspects of peo­ple’s respons­es (e.g., inkblot focus area) to make judg­ment calls about broad per­son­al­i­ty traits. Iron­i­cal­ly, Rorschach him­self had been skep­ti­cal about the inkblots’ val­ue in assess­ing per­son­al­i­ty.

In hon­or of Rorschach’s birth­day (he was born on this day in 1884), we’ve high­light­ed his orig­i­nal images below, as well as some of the most pop­u­lar respons­es. If you see some­thing else in these images, feel free to let us know in the com­ments sec­tion below. The images, we should note, are in the pub­lic domain, and oth­er­wise read­i­ly view­able on Wikipedia. And, accord­ing to Wiki­me­dia Com­mons, the images are in the pub­lic domain.

Image 1: Bat, but­ter­fly, moth

Rorschach_blot_01

Image 2: Two humans

Rorschach_blot_02

Image 3: Two humans

800px-Rorschach_blot_03

Image 4: Ani­mal hide, skin, rug

Rorschach_blot_04

Image 5: Bat, but­ter­fly, moth

Rorschach_blot_05

Image 6: Ani­mal hide, skin, rug

Rorschach_blot_06

Image 7: Human heads or faces

Rorschach_blot_07

Image 8: Ani­mal; not cat or dog

689px-Rorschach_blot_08

Image 9: Human

647px-Rorschach_blot_09

Image 10: Crab, lob­ster, spi­der,

751px-Rorschach_blot_10

Hap­pen to see an ele­phant and a men’s glee club engaged in unmen­tion­able acts? Don’t fret—you’ve like­ly pro­ject­ed noth­ing intel­li­gi­ble. The test has long been out of date, and is deemed nei­ther reli­able nor valid in the vast major­i­ty of cas­es (although an updat­ed ver­sion exists, it suf­fers from sim­i­lar method­olog­i­cal flaws). Vir­gil Stark­well, it seems, would have made a fine Navy offi­cer.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture writer. Fol­low him at@iliablinderman

What an 85-Year-Long Harvard Study Says Is the Real Key to Happiness

We’ve long used the French word milieu in Eng­lish, but not with quite the same range of mean­ings it has back in France. For exam­ple, French soci­ety (and espe­cial­ly the mem­bers of its old­er gen­er­a­tions) explic­it­ly rec­og­nizes the val­ue of a milieu in the sense of the col­lect­ed friends, acquain­tances, and rela­tions with whom one has reg­u­lar and fre­quent con­tact. Keep­ing a good milieu is a key task for liv­ing a good life. Robert Waldinger does­n’t use the word in the new hour-long Big Think video above, but then, he comes from a dif­fer­ent cul­tur­al back­ground: he’s Amer­i­can, for one, a Har­vard psy­chi­a­trist, and he also hap­pens to be a Zen Bud­dhist priest. But he would sure­ly agree whole­heart­ed­ly about the impor­tance of the milieu to human hap­pi­ness.

As the fourth direc­tor of the long-term Har­vard Study of Adult Devel­op­ment, which has been keep­ing an eye on the well-being of its sub­jects for more than 85 years now, Waldinger knows some­thing about hap­pi­ness. Ear­ly in the video, he cites find­ings that half of it is “a kind of bio­log­i­cal set point,” 10 per­cent is “based on our cur­rent life cir­cum­stances,” and the remain­ing 40 per­cent is under our con­trol. The sin­gle most impor­tant fac­tor in the vari­abil­i­ty of our hap­pi­ness, he explains, is our rela­tion­ships. To take the mea­sure of that aspect of our own lives, we should ask our­selves these ques­tions: “Do I have enough con­nec­tion in my life?” “Do I have rela­tion­ships that are warm and sup­port­ive?” “What am I get­ting from rela­tion­ships?”

There are, of course, good rela­tion­ships and bad rela­tion­ships, those that fill you with ener­gy and those that drain you of ener­gy. To a great extent, Waldinger says, good rela­tion­ships can be cul­ti­vat­ed, and even bad rela­tion­ships can be mod­i­fied or approached in an advan­ta­geous way. What makes learn­ing to do so impor­tant is that a lack of rela­tion­ships — that is, lone­li­ness — can take as much of a phys­i­cal toll as obe­si­ty or heavy smok­ing. Alas, since tele­vi­sion made its way into the home after the Sec­ond World War, we’ve lived with a rapid­ly and cease­less­ly mul­ti­ply­ing array of forces that make it dif­fi­cult to form and main­tain rela­tion­ships; at this point, we’re so “con­stant­ly dis­tract­ed by our won­der­ful screens” that we have trou­ble pay­ing atten­tion to even the peo­ple we think we love. This is where Zen comes in.

Atten­tion, as one of Waldinger’s own teach­ers in that tra­di­tion put it, is “the most basic form of love,” and med­i­ta­tion has always been a reli­able way to cul­ti­vate it. Such a prac­tice reveals our own minds to be “messy and chaot­ic,” and from that real­iza­tion, it’s not far to the under­stand­ing that “every­body’s minds are messy and chaot­ic.” Attain­ing a clear view of our own ques­tion­able impuls­es and irri­tat­ing defi­cien­cies helps us to accept those same qual­i­ties in oth­ers. “We can some­times imag­ine that oth­er peo­ple have it all fig­ured out, and we’re the only one who has ups and downs in our life,” says Waldinger, but the truth is that “every­body has ups and downs. We nev­er fig­ure it out, ulti­mate­ly.” The fleet­ing nature of sat­is­fac­tion con­sti­tutes just one facet of the imper­ma­nence Zen requires us to accept. Noth­ing lasts for­ev­er: cer­tain­ly not our lives, nor those of the mem­bers of our milieu, so if we want to enjoy them, we’d bet­ter start pay­ing atten­tion to them while we still can.

Relat­ed con­tent:

What Are the Keys to Hap­pi­ness? Lessons from a 75-Year-Long Har­vard Study

How to Be Hap­pi­er in 5 Research-Proven Steps, Accord­ing to Pop­u­lar Yale Pro­fes­sor Lau­rie San­tos

A 6‑Step Guide to Zen Bud­dhism, Pre­sent­ed by Psy­chi­a­trist-Zen Mas­ter Robert Waldinger

All You Need is Love: The Keys to Hap­pi­ness Revealed by a 75-Year Har­vard Study

How Much Mon­ey Do You Need to Be Hap­py? A New Study Gives Us Some Exact Fig­ures

How Lone­li­ness Is Killing Us: A Primer from Har­vard Psy­chi­a­trist & Zen Priest Robert Waldinger

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

1980s Metalhead Kids Are Alright: Scientific Study Shows That They Became Well-Adjusted Adults

In the 1980s, The Par­ents Music Resource Cen­ter (PMRC), an orga­ni­za­tion co-found­ed by Tip­per Gore and the wives of sev­er­al oth­er Wash­ing­ton pow­er bro­kers, launched a polit­i­cal cam­paign against pop music, hop­ing to put warn­ing labels on records that pro­mot­ed Sex, Vio­lence, Drug and Alco­hol Use. Along the way, the PMRC issued “the Filthy Fif­teen,” a list of 15 par­tic­u­lar­ly objec­tion­able songs. Hits by Madon­na, Prince and Cyn­di Lau­per made the list. But the list real­ly took aim at heavy met­al bands from the 80s — name­ly, Judas Priest, Möt­ley Crüe, Twist­ed Sis­ter, W.A.S.P., Def Lep­pard, Black Sab­bath, and Ven­om. (Inter­est­ing foot­note: the Sovi­ets sep­a­rate­ly cre­at­ed a list of black­balled rock bands, and it looked pret­ty much the same.)

Above, you can watch Twist­ed Sis­ter’s Dee Snider appear before Con­gress in 1985 and accuse the PMRC of mis­in­ter­pret­ing his band’s lyrics and wag­ing a false war against met­al music. The evi­dence 40 years lat­er sug­gests that Snider per­haps had a point.

A study by psy­chol­o­gy researchers at Hum­boldt StateOhio State, UC River­side and UT Austin “exam­ined 1980s heavy met­al groupies, musi­cians, and fans at mid­dle age” — 377 par­tic­i­pants in total — and found that, although met­al enthu­si­asts cer­tain­ly lived riski­er lives as kids, they were nonethe­less “sig­nif­i­cant­ly hap­pi­er in their youth and bet­ter adjust­ed cur­rent­ly than either mid­dle-aged or cur­rent col­lege-age youth com­par­i­son groups.” This left the researchers to con­tem­plate one pos­si­ble con­clu­sion: “par­tic­i­pa­tion in fringe style cul­tures may enhance iden­ti­ty devel­op­ment in trou­bled youth.” Not to men­tion that heavy met­al lyrics don’t eas­i­ly turn kids into dam­aged goods.

You can read the report, Three Decades Lat­er: The Life Expe­ri­ences and Mid-Life Func­tion­ing of 1980s Heavy Met­al Groupies here. And, right above, lis­ten to an inter­view with one of the researchers, Tasha Howe, a for­mer head­banger her­self, who spoke yes­ter­day with Michael Kras­ny on KQED radio in San Fran­cis­co.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in July 2015.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Dev­il­ish His­to­ry of the 1980s Parental Advi­so­ry Stick­er: When Heavy Met­al & Satan­ic Lyrics Col­lid­ed with the Reli­gious Right

Sovi­et Union Cre­ates a List of 38 Dan­ger­ous Rock Bands: Kiss, Pink Floyd, Talk­ing Heads, Vil­lage Peo­ple & More (1985)

Watch Heavy Met­al Park­ing Lot, the Cult Clas­sic Film That Ranks as One of the “Great Rock Doc­u­men­taries” of All Time

A Blue­grass Ver­sion of Metallica’s Heavy Met­al Hit, “Enter Sand­man”

The Hu, a New Break­through Band from Mon­go­lia, Plays Heavy Met­al with Tra­di­tion­al Folk Instru­ments and Throat Singing

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How to Enter a ‘Flow State’ on Command: Peak Performance Mind Hack Explained in 7 Minutes

You can be for­giv­en for think­ing the con­cept of “flow” was cooked up and pop­u­lar­ized by yoga teach­ers. That word gets a lot of play when one is mov­ing from Down­ward-Fac­ing Dog on through War­rior One and Two.

Actu­al­ly, flow — the state of  “effort­less effort” — was coined by Goethe, from the Ger­man “rausch”, a dizzy­ing sort of ecsta­sy.

Friedrich Niet­zsche and psy­chol­o­gist William James both con­sid­ered the flow state in depth, but social the­o­rist Mihaly Csik­szent­mi­ha­lyi, author of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Flow and the Psy­chol­o­gy of Dis­cov­ery and Inven­tion, is the true giant in the field. Here’s one of his def­i­n­i­tions of flow:

Being com­plete­ly involved in an activ­i­ty for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, move­ment, and thought fol­lows inevitably from the pre­vi­ous one, like play­ing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.

Author Steven Kotler, Exec­u­tive Direc­tor of the Flow Research Col­lec­tive, not only seems to spend a lot of time think­ing about flow, as a lead­ing expert on human per­for­mance, he inhab­its the state on a fair­ly reg­u­lar basis, too.

Chalk it up to good luck?

Good genes? (Some researchers, includ­ing retired NIH geneti­cist Dean Hamer and psy­chol­o­gist C. Robert Cloninger, think genet­ics play a part…)

As Kotler points out above, any­one can hedge their bets by clear­ing away dis­trac­tions — all the usu­al bad­dies that inter­fere with sleep, per­for­mance, or pro­duc­tiv­i­ty.

It’s also impor­tant to know thy­self. Kotler’s an ear­ly bird, who gets crackin’ well before sun­rise:

I don’t just open my eyes at 4:00 AM, I try to go from bed to desk before my brain even kicks out of its Alpha wave state. I don’t check any emails. I turn every­thing off at the end of the day includ­ing unplug­ging my phones and all that stuff so that the next morn­ing there’s nobody jump­ing into my inbox or assault­ing me emo­tion­al­ly with some­thing, you know what I mean?… I real­ly pro­tect that ear­ly morn­ing time.

By con­trast, his night owl wife doesn’t start clear­ing the cob­webs ’til ear­ly evening.

In the above video for Big Think, Kotler notes that 22 flow trig­gers have been dis­cov­ered, pre-con­di­tions that keep atten­tion focused in the present moment.

His web­site lists many of those trig­gers:

  • Com­plete Con­cen­tra­tion in the Present Moment
  • Imme­di­ate Feed­back
  • Clear Goals
  • The Chal­lenge-Skills Ratio (ie: the chal­lenge should seem slight­ly out of reach
  • High con­se­quences 
  • Deep Embod­i­ment 
  • Rich Envi­ron­ment 
  • Cre­ativ­i­ty (specif­i­cal­ly, pat­tern recog­ni­tion, or the link­ing togeth­er of new ideas)

Kotler also shares Uni­ver­si­ty of North Car­oli­na psy­chol­o­gist Kei­th Sawyer’s trig­ger list for groups hop­ing to flow like a well-oiled machine:

  • Shared Goals
  • Close Lis­ten­ing 
  • “Yes And” (addi­tive, rather than com­bat­ive con­ver­sa­tions)
  • Com­plete Con­cen­tra­tion (total focus in the right here, right now)
  • A sense of con­trol (each mem­ber of the group feels in con­trol, but still)
  • Blend­ing Egos (each per­son can sub­merge their ego needs into the group’s)
  • Equal Par­tic­i­pa­tion (skills lev­els are rough­ly and equal every­one is involved)
  • Famil­iar­i­ty (peo­ple know one anoth­er and under­stand their tics and ten­den­cies)
  • Con­stant Com­mu­ni­ca­tion (a group ver­sion of imme­di­ate feed­back)
  • Shared, Group Risk

One might think peo­ple in the flow state would be float­ing around with an expres­sion of ecsta­t­ic bliss on their faces. Not so, accord­ing to Kotler. Rather, they tend to frown slight­ly. Good news for any­one with rest­ing bitch face!

(We’ll thank you to refer to it as rest­ing flow state face from here on out.)

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2022.

Relat­ed Con­tent

Cre­ativ­i­ty, Not Mon­ey, is the Key to Hap­pi­ness: Dis­cov­er Psy­chol­o­gist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly’s The­o­ry of “Flow”

How to Enter Flow State, Increase Your Abil­i­ty to Con­cen­trate, and Let Your Ego Fall Away : An Ani­mat­ed Primer

How to Get into a Cre­ative “Flow State”: A Short Mas­ter­class

David Lynch Explains How Sim­ple Dai­ly Habits Enhance His Cre­ativ­i­ty

“The Phi­los­o­phy of “Flow”: A Brief Intro­duc­tion to Tao­ism

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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Why Most Ancient Civilizations Had No Word for the Color Blue

In an old Zen sto­ry, two monks argue over whether a flag is wav­ing or whether it’s the wind that waves. Their teacher strikes them both dumb, say­ing, “It is your mind that moves.” The cen­turies-old koan illus­trates a point Zen mas­ters — and lat­er philoso­phers, psy­chol­o­gists, and neu­ro­sci­en­tists — have all empha­sized at one time or anoth­er: human expe­ri­ence hap­pens in the mind, but we share real­i­ty through lan­guage and cul­ture, and these in turn set the terms for how we per­ceive what we expe­ri­ence.

Such obser­va­tions bring us to anoth­er koan-like ques­tion: if a lan­guage lacks a word for some­thing like the col­or blue, can the thing be said to exist in the speaker’s mind? We can dis­pense with the idea that there’s a col­or blue “out there” in the world. Col­or is a col­lab­o­ra­tion between light, the eye, the optic nerve, and the visu­al cor­tex. And yet, claims Maria Michela Sas­si, pro­fes­sor of ancient phi­los­o­phy at Pisa Uni­ver­si­ty, “every cul­ture has its own way of nam­ing and cat­e­go­riz­ing colours.”

The most famous exam­ple comes from the ancient Greeks. Since the 18th cen­tu­ry, schol­ars have point­ed out that in the thou­sands of words in the Ili­ad and Odyssey, Homer nev­er once describes any­thing — sea, sky, you name it — as blue. It wasn’t only the Greeks who didn’t see blue, or didn’t see it as we do, Sas­si writes:

There is a spe­cif­ic Greek chro­mat­ic cul­ture, just as there is an Egypt­ian one, an Indi­an one, a Euro­pean one, and the like, each of them being reflect­ed in a vocab­u­lary that has its own pecu­liar­i­ty, and not to be mea­sured only by the sci­en­tif­ic meter of the New­ton­ian par­a­digm.

It was once thought cul­tur­al col­or dif­fer­ences had to do with stages of evo­lu­tion­ary devel­op­ment — that more “prim­i­tive” peo­ples had a less devel­oped bio­log­i­cal visu­al sense. But dif­fer­ences in col­or per­cep­tion are “not due to vary­ing anatom­i­cal struc­tures of the human eye,” writes Sas­si, “but to the fact that dif­fer­ent ocu­lar areas are stim­u­lat­ed, which trig­gers dif­fer­ent emo­tion­al respons­es, all accord­ing to dif­fer­ent cul­tur­al con­texts.”

As the Asap­SCIENCE video above explains, the evi­dence of ancient Greek lit­er­a­ture and phi­los­o­phy shows that since blue was not part of Homer and his read­ers’ shared vocab­u­lary (yel­low and green do not appear either), it may not have been part of their per­cep­tu­al expe­ri­ence, either. The spread of blue ink across the world as a rel­a­tive­ly recent phe­nom­e­non has to do with its avail­abil­i­ty. “If you think about it,” writes Busi­ness Insider’s Kevin Loria, “blue doesn’t appear much in nature — there aren’t blue ani­mals, blue eyes are rare, and blue flow­ers are most­ly human cre­ations.”

The col­or blue took hold in mod­ern times with the devel­op­ment of sub­stances that could act as blue pig­ment, like Pruss­ian Blue, invent­ed in Berlin, man­u­fac­tured in Chi­na and export­ed to Japan in the 19th cen­tu­ry. “The only ancient cul­ture to devel­op a word for blue was the Egyp­tians — and as it hap­pens, they were also the only cul­ture that had a way to pro­duce a blue dye.” Col­or is not only cul­tur­al, it is also tech­no­log­i­cal. But first, per­haps, it could be a lin­guis­tic phe­nom­e­non.

One mod­ern researcher, Jules David­off, found this to be true in exper­i­ments with a Namib­ian peo­ple whose lan­guage makes no dis­tinc­tion between blue and green (but names many fin­er shades of green than Eng­lish does). “David­off says that with­out a word for a colour,” Loria writes, “with­out a way of iden­ti­fy­ing it as dif­fer­ent, it’s much hard­er for us to notice what’s unique about it.” Unless we’re col­or blind, we all “see” the same things when we look at the world because of the basic biol­o­gy of human eyes and brains. But whether cer­tain col­ors appear, it seems, has to do less with what we see than with what we’re already primed to expect.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2021.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

A 3,000-Year-Old Painter’s Palette from Ancient Egypt, with Traces of the Orig­i­nal Col­ors Still In It

How the Ancient Greeks & Romans Made Beau­ti­ful Pur­ple Dye from Snail Glands

Dis­cov­er the Cyanome­ter, the Device Invent­ed in 1789 Just to Mea­sure the Blue­ness of the Sky

YIn­Mn Blue, the First Shade of Blue Dis­cov­ered in 200 Years, Is Now Avail­able for Artists

How Ancient Greek Stat­ues Real­ly Looked: Research Reveals Their Bold, Bright Col­ors and Pat­terns

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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