21. Keep Your Eyes on the Treat: Stay Focused Despite Distractions

Although I make an effort to do “all the right things” (crazy-healthy diet, daily exercise, meditation, attempting to get to bed at a decent hour, etc), I’ve found myself a little distracted lately. 

It goes something like this. Wake up, perform ablutions, practice Qi Gong, prepare matcha latte, sit down at the computer to work on this very post. So far, so good. 

Now. . . what can I say about Zoey and her . . . Chinese spy balloon? Maybe I’ll write about the new dog toy that . . . spews deadly toxins around Ohio, Texas, North Carolina, Florida? Okay, then, let’s turn our attention to the strange new . . . UFOs in the sky!! And what about the Nordstream pipeline? Armies amassing more troops? Pirates?? Epstein’s List?! EVIL BING AI??!!! THIS COSTUME?!!

Before I know it, I’m exhausted and ready to head back to bed for a nap. At 7:42 AM. 

“What’s wrong with taking a nap, Mum? Really, any time is good . . . “

And while it might offer little comfort, this state of affairs affects not just me (or you), but pretty much everybody lately. In recent years, it’s become harder and harder to set aside the world’s daily welter of crises, despite our best efforts. 

Some people, such as the HH**, were born with an innate ability to compartmentalize the external drama and continue to function like a normal (though, to be honest, rather eccentric) human. 

Since I wasn’t naturally gifted with that ability, I must work at it. Unlike my life partner, I’ve had to scratch and claw my way toward that zen state (oh, wait, I suppose if I’m still scratching and clawing. . . ). Correction: I’ve worked for decades so I could learn to approach something that sorta-kinda, maybe a little bit, more or less, resembles a zen state . . . some of the time. 

What allows certain people to float through life ostensibly unaffected by the external distractions, while others can’t? I’ve come to believe it’s nothing more than the ability to focus–pinning your attention on one thing at a time, thereby blocking out the other attention-seekers. Kind of like a self-imposed “flow” state. 

This ability seemed much easier for me to master in my 20s while living in residence at university. Not burdened with a job, home, children, pets or the polemical environment the average student faces today, my friends and I lived a relatively carefree life, focused mostly on two things: studying; and whether that cute guy who glanced at us in the cafeteria yesterday would ask us on a date. 

While I was rarely successful with the guy, I did manage to master my studies by training my focus. 

While my friends skipped class and wandered into town for an afternoon showing of Blade Runner or an impromptu cigarette break, I stuck steadfastly to my schedule, marched over to the library and completed that Beckett essay during the two hours between Modern American poetry and Shakespeare. 

Was I captivated by their whispers and giggles as they trailed through the rows of books? Sure. Did I yearn to go with them as I glimpsed the last leather jacket and backpack exit the revolving doors? Of course I did. Did I feel my own pack of cigarettes (because duh, of course I smoked back then) relaying its message to “smoke me!” through my Lee denim overalls? You betcha. 

Somehow, though, I managed to ignore all those silent pleas and focus on the work. I knew I’d enjoy my free time more if the homework was done, and I looked forward to partying on evenings and weekends. Sadly, like smoking those cigarettes, drinking beer or dancing till 3:00 AM (and then reporting to work at 8:30) those abilities I had in my 20s have now faded like the thighs on my Lees.  

“Studying seems pretty easy to me, Mum. Plus, you get a treat after!”

It makes one wonder: Is it possible to achieve a similar level of focus in a world gone wild? 

Consider that, to achieve this mythical state, you must focus on something to the exclusion of everything else. If it’s true that humans can’t really multi-task (so please stop watching that movie while you try to read this, dammit), then a singular focus will serve us well. 

Focus on something good, and all the bad disappears. . . at least for a while.

No surprise that dogs manage this feat naturally. 

When the HH roasts his weekly chicken for dinner, Zoey remains mesmerized, her gaze laser-focused on that bird. True, she doesn’t have an iPhone to distract her, but it wouldn’t matter if a live squirrel scampered across the kitchen tiles right before her eyes–she’d keep her stare trained on that roasting pan until it was back in the oven with no chance of a scrap thrown her way. 

Similarly, when we practice her “leave it” command and I extend a palmful of kibble in front of her face while she looks into my eyes, perfectly still, nothing could drag her away until I utter the magic word, “Yesss!” and hand it over. 

That stare. . . .

I’ve been trying a new trick with our Girl at the park. For some reason, she’s become fond of leaping onto rocks (or anything made of rock), then coming when called for a treat. 

Lately, I’ve intensified the difficulty of the trick by making her stay until I use a particular hand signal. I’ve tried waving, flexing my fingers, twirling in a circle and even pretending to walk away, but her focus is unshakeable; like a camera lens while the timer counts down, she won’t move a muscle until my specific signal indicates, “We’re done! Okay to run over here now!” 

“Learning to focus, Mum. . . . “

Despite my affinity for dogs (I was born in the Year of the Dog; my husband says I have “dog-like qualities,” and I take it as a compliment), I don’t possess that specific canine characteristic that, I’m certain, has helped dogs evolve into the cherished creatures they are today. 

Except this week, I’ll give it a try. I’ll dredge up those dusty skills from university and schedule my week. When something unexpected arises (unless it’s an emergency), I’ll redouble my efforts and block out the background noise. I’ll work on one thing at a time. 

Will I renew my ability to defer gratification until after everything else is done? Will I completely miss my neighbor’s Mardi Gras celebration, the raging fire in the strip mall down the street, or the first time the HH cooks dinner of his own accord? Will I ever fit into those old Lee overalls again?

Ah, sweet mysteries of life. We’ll just have to wait a week, and see. In the meantime, let’s focus. 

** ie, the hubs. “HH” stands for “Human Honey,” as opposed to my furry honeys (those eponymous canines).

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Follow up to last week’s story: Embrace Failure as Part of Learning 

During the week, I was determined to reframe every “failure” as a learning experience. The old “either you win or you learn” mantra. 

After a couple of failure-free days, I Wednesday started off with my usual Qi Gong. Except this time, the video contained moves I’d never learned before. 

While retaining the same look and feel as the Qi Gong I knew–fluid, soft and calming–some of these engaged muscles and bones I haven’t used since childhood. How to get my hips to roll freely when my spine is stiff as a fossilized python (and probably as brittle, too)?

I watched the video at least a dozen times. I watched in slow motion. I stopped at each point and attempted to reproduce what I saw on-screen. All to no avail.

One of the great miseries of my childhood was my inability to excel at anything athletic. (Oh wait, that’s a bit of a lie–I was always the “anchor” when we had tug-of-war games. You know, when you have two teams, one on either side of a long rope, and the side that pulls the other over the midway point wins? Well, the anchor was always at each end of the rope, because she was the heaviest). 

Suddenly, all that anguish and humiliation came flooding back. I couldn’t even master a simple hip rotation, for goodness’ sake! What was wrong with me? Why was I so inept, so uncoordinated, so . . . FAT?!

I caught myself. I channeled Zoey.

“Keep practicing and one day, you’ll be this flexible, too, Mum.”

It’s a learning curve, like any other, I reminded myself. When it comes to intellectual learning curves, I don’t worry. I trust I’ll “get it” eventually. So why not give myself the same grace when it comes to physical learning? 

I reframed the failure. Your body is older and stiffer than hers. You’ll need more time to master that move. Besides, one of the cardinal principles of Qi Gong is being aware of your body and adjusting when any move hurts or simply doesn’t feel “right.” 

So in this case, rather than failing at the movement, I was simply honoring my body–and continuing to learn. 

Next up, I’ll attempt to understand Web3. The metaverse (meh)? Blockchain? DeFi? It’s all waiting for me to mess up. 

Wish me luck. I’m sure there will be an awful lot of failure learning going on.

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Now, over to you. Let me know your thoughts, or answer one of the following questions. I love to hear from you!

1. Do you schedule your time each week? If so, what kind of scheduler do you use—electronic, paper, to-do list—?

2. What’s the thing that distracts you most often when you’re trying to focus?

3. Yoga or qi gong? Why?

As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please consider recommending it to someone else–or becoming a paid subscriber to support me and my writing. I’d be eternally grateful either way!