by Gary Borjesson
Around the new year you may, like me, be inclined to reflect on your life. And if you weren’t so inclined, the media will remind you with its best-of lists, retrospectives and prospectives. These reflections often become musings (if not resolves) about what we want to keep in our lives, what we could do without, and where we want to make changes or grow.
Which brings me to my theme, a big simple idea I find helpful, and recommend to you, when contemplating changes (including changes of attitude). It can help steady us through changes of all sorts, whether grieving a loss, struggling with our health, losing weight, starting an exercise routine or a meditation practice, embarking on a new career, or considering retirement. The idea is this: once you’re clear about what you want, focus on the activity, not the goal; the process, not the reward; the journey, not the destination.
Perhaps you find this obvious; I hope so. Still, as Orwell famously observed, “To see what is in front of one’s nose needs a constant struggle.” It’s especially easy to lose sight of the obvious when we’re met with the equally obvious, and competing, truth: that we should keep our eyes on the prize. True, it’s vital to be clear about the goal and good we are seeking. In our results-focused world, however, we hardly need this reminder. Anyway, even if all we want are results, the best way to get them is to pay attention to the process.
A story about a little ritual of friendship called “Seek!” will illustrate what I have in mind. The goal of “Seek!” is, of course, to find. In this story, the reward will be a crunchy pig’s ear, but go ahead and substitute whatever goal you please: six-pack abs, fluency in Japanese, a first novel, a kayak you built yourself, a thriving business or partnership.
The friend in this ritual is my dog Theila, who loves a crunchy chewy pig’s ear. (I know.) But I expect her to work for her reward. What I know, and think she suspects, is that the work of seeking will ultimately become the main pleasure—the journey will become the destination, which is happiness. Knowing this gives me the resolve to stick with the hard work of training her and myself in the art of seeking. In the same way, it’s easier to be patient and encouraging with ourselves when we adopt the mindset that, as hard as change is, eventually we will enjoy what now feels like work, whether it’s running, sobriety, meditation, healthy eating, etc. In the meantime, we focus not on what we seek, but on building a practice around it, trusting that results will come.
Here’s how the ritual called “Seek!” works. After hiding something in the woods, I call Theila to heel. I put my hand (the one with traces of the now-hidden object) in front of her nose and say, “Smell!” Even if it’s already obvious to her, we practice the formality of me ‘showing’ her the scent of the specific object she is to find. Immediately after sniffing my hand, she gazes up at me, bright eyed and expectant. Then I say “Seek!” and off she runs, following the scent trail until she finds the object. She then grabs it with a flourish and races back to me. (In the final version of this story, anyway!) Our ritual is complete once she’s dropped the object into my hand. She knows I’ll immediately give it back, whether a ball or stick or old shoe—sometimes along with a biscuit or pig’s ear.
I say “sometimes” because random reinforcement is the most effective way to maintain an established habit—useful to know when we want to shift our attention from reward to process. For example, rewarding ourselves every time we go to the gym makes sense early on. But once the habit is established, doing so reinforces the wrong idea, that we’re exercising for the sake of an external reward. Behaviorism made this mistake by neglecting that the better part of the pleasure, and the conditioning, lies in the activity as a whole. In Theila’s case, as she made “Seek!” her own, the prize became less important to her than our collaborative ritual, which was its own reward. If you were watching us, you’d see this demonstrated in her glad eager attention to the forms, and you’d notice the pleasure I’m taking in working with her.
But don’t take my word for it. As Stanford neuroscientist Andrew Huberman has pointed out, dopamine (the neurotransmitter linked to the motivation-reward system) is not dumped into our system only when the reward arrives. We don’t endure the ‘seek’ ritual or the long run or the kayak-building—or whatever the activity may be—for the sake of the dopamine hit at the end. Rather, there is (or can be) as much or more dopamine present in the anticipation and in the process itself. It’s empowering to recognize that the entire activity can be at least as motivated (and as motivating) as the reward at the end.
Well, usually. Not everything is easily made into something rewarding in its own right. Exercise is one of those things for some of us, as is doing the dishes or taxes, changing the kitty litter—even walking the dog can feel like a chore. But we do them anyway because they lead to good things, like a happy dog and a clean kitchen. The best we can do is reduce how much of our activity is instrumental in this way, trying as far as possible to make the things we do ends in themselves. (Practices like mindfulness can help with this.) In my case, running is an end in itself, as well as being instrumental to other good things, like health. Others experience running in the way I experience tax preparation, as an unrewarding tedious slog. In that case, the challenge is to find some exercise we can learn to enjoy.
Admittedly, a lot hangs on what we mean by “enjoy.” Which brings me to happiness, the note on which I want to end this “happy new year” offering. Aristotle long since observed the obvious, that happiness or flourishing is the ultimate good underlying all the other things we aim at. We contemplate changes and make resolutions because we want to be happy. The key, as Aristotle also noted, is to recognize that we can be happy without always feeling good, just as we can be healthy even when we have a cold, and be motivated, even enjoy, the whole process, in addition to the outcome. Isn’t it a relief to be reminded that satisfaction, contentment, and enjoyment are compatible with effort and occasional unpleasantness? Meeting resistance is a sign that we’re on the right track, that we’re learning and growing. It’s grounding, for me, anyway, to remember that being happy is not about feeling good; it’s not a feeling at all, but a way of being.
Still, barring misfortunes, we can expect to feel better if we’re giving the lion’s share of our precious attention to the process. We know that the practice of attention over time is magical, transforming what often started as a mere means into an end in itself. Now we eagerly anticipate that early morning run or hour in the gym that we once dreaded. Now Theila takes pleasure in the parts of our ritual that once were hard for her, like staying put until I say “Seek!” and giving me the prize at the end. Now I too take pleasure (mostly) in things that initially were hard for me: minding my tone of voice and body language, accurately communicating the forms, listening to her, being patient with her—and myself. Thus the ritual casts its own spell, enhancing our feeling of connection and alliance. It expresses friendship and love.
So, here’s to dwelling in the doing, learning how to love the very things we spend most of our time doing. Happiness itself is like this. It’s not the surge of joy we feel when we find what we’ve been searching for, cross the finish line, or finish building the boat. It is, rather, a way of living in active engagement with the good, meaningful things that make up our life. Your friends, for example.
Thank you for reading.
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