Blog post #19
“Between stimulus and response, there is a space,
In that space, lies our freedom and power to choose our response,
In our response, lies our growth and our happiness.” (Victor Frankl)
I have discovered that I have a problem with self-discipline. This is not news to me. It’s not even news to you. This is evidenced by the various things I have set out to do, but not entirely followed through. For example, I currently have sheet after sheet, video clip after video clip of physiotherapy exercises that I was meant to be doing since the last time my hip went out. Last summer, in fact. And I did enough of those to recover from the initial overuse injury that had me so crippled up that I couldn’t even climb a set of stairs, or get in and out of a car. But, once the extreme discomfort had been alleviated, I unwittingly slipped back into old, counterproductive physical habits. Of course one must never just look at the debit side of the ledger. I remind myself of the things I have achieved, and from this sense of accomplishment I find the motivation to do the next item on my to-do list. Such as practice my ukulele. After I finish this blog. And take out the compost. But I can hardly claim to have taken my recurring hip injury seriously enough to prevent it from seizing up again, as it did the other day. Which brings me to a consideration of habitual patterns of behavior, and how they might have a detrimental influence on my physical, (and likewise mental, emotional, spiritual and social) well-being.
The physiotherapist explained it thus: “You have recruited (and overused) certain muscle groups that aren’t actually designed to do the work that you are asking them to do. And on the contrary, you have not developed the muscles whose job it actually IS to do that work. Because of that the recruited muscles are not only doing double duty, but are bound to break down.” As they just did. In my hip. In other words, in an extreme circumstance, I can get out of my habitual patterns of behavior to do the things I think I cannot do, (or that, despite my best intentions, are simply not happening. Think New Years resolutions). It’s not that I don’t know how to go about a given task or exercise. Or that I’m lazy. It’s just that, over time, and based on recurring — albeit subjective —experiences, my mind has created mental ruts that I slip into mechanically, just as I fall into certain patterns of physical activity that are not currently serving me. Modern psychology calls this a “mental default loop”.
Freelance journalist and social commentator Zat Rana, puts it thus: “Our brain is a pattern-seeking survival machine, and habits are how it ensures that we don’t always have to think too hard about what to do when familiar situations arise, letting us conserve energy”.
The flaw inherent in this process is revealed when these patterns become so automatic, so habitual, that they become a closed loop, rendering us unable to receive or integrate unprecedented or unfamiliar information.
Rana adds: “Our subjective experience is limited and using it — and the thinking patterns that create it — as the baseline for understanding the world is a limited way to go through life, and it biases us in the wrong direction”…”any time we are struggling to solve some problem or lacking a sense of satisfaction or meaning, it’s due to the fact that the current thinking patterns that we are using to interact with reality are not adequately suited for the job.” Bingo!
As with recruiting physical muscles that are not designed for a particular purpose (road biking, evidently), I am fascinated by the idea that I have mental default loops that are not adequately suited to the task of navigating, say, a new era of COVID realities/challenges that threaten my health and safety, on all levels.
Continuing to explore the literature on default loops, I learn that the best way to avoid or prevent mental “stagnation” is by courting diversity. Consistently exposing myself to novelty. Challenging my thinking process and how I come to the conclusions that I do. With this awareness in mind, I am even more inclined to pursue Victor Frankl’s advice.
I choose to create a space between stimulus and response that allows room for new information and fresh, unbiased interpretations. A shortcut to that end is to ask myself the question: “What is happening here?” With as much detachment as possible, I take note (yes, back to the need for keeping a journal) of my thoughts and feelings about a given situation. As I mentioned in the previous blog, I might need to start with some centered breathing. Once I’ve recovered a sense of calm and objectivity, I can reread my notes and ask myself: “Is this the only way to interpret my situation? What else could it be or mean?” I can try flipping my conclusions to the opposite of my current thoughts. If nothing else, this process will help dissipate the charged energy and make room for more mental and emotional clarity. Create space to formulate a considered response versus a knee-jerk reaction. As Frankl wisely advises, my growth, and my happiness depend on my ability to respond versus react to the many challenges that hinder my path.
I’ll buy a ticket to that.