Showing posts with label Process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Process. Show all posts

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Why New Year’s Resolutions Don’t Stick Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

It's been a minute. To spare you from rescanning previous installments, here's a...

Recap

The title’s click bait. This is about Process. That refers to projects, endeavors, and issues actively ongoing. The plates we keep spinning, small and large. Think of this as a meditation on plate-spinning.
I know things about this because I experienced an epic crash/burn after founding an early online community which scaled way, way out of control sans funding, tech, or really anything but a phalanx of part-time moderators and my puckered adrenal glands. I hurt myself.
I describe four levels of processes:

Daemon Processes
Reminders, alarms, alerts, vigils, etc., sane and otherwise. These mostly just glide along. (I never should have spelled it "demon" in previous installments; this computer science spelling works better.) More on daemons here.

Engrained Processes
Tying shoes, brushing teeth, locking doors. Little effort or attention required. When we are severely overburdened, these, to our abject horror, can deteriorate. That's a very bad look, and often leads to a vicious circle where processes of shame, self-loathing, and bandaid application are launched, compounding the overextension. In extreme cases, even daemon processes start to glitch, which is a ghastly prospect. Trust me, I've been there (I know overextension like Navalny knew Novichok).

Workshop Processes
This is how engrained processes are developed. Effort and attention are front-loaded, so we can later whip up delicious panini or a charming watercolor with relative ease. I've always had a lot of these, which makes me a rather content 61 year old, enjoying the fruits of so much investment. Thanks, younger me!

Workshop processes are precarious before they become engrained. It’s like trying to strike a match in a hurricane. They require time, space, peace, and commitment, but they're frequently interrupted by....

Imposed Processes
The issues du jour. A fallen tree just knocked a hole in your roof! You've got the flu! These are the bane of our existence, but (shhhh!) we'd be bored out of our skulls without fraught challenges dropping on us from time to time. Consider this: why do we always design them into our games and entertainments? Why do we pay to experience challenge, puzzle-solving, and obstruction-removal? Why do so many people willingly invite needless complexity and mayhem into their lives? The truth is self-evident, yet we pray incessantly for God to stop fucking with us.

Multitasking is not a thing. We are serial computers, not parallel. And our headroom is lower than we imagine, so overloading is a constant risk. New processes can't be freely popped in, like tapes into a player. This explains why earnest New Year's Resolutions usually turn out to be feckless conceits.

Rest - even "time-wasting" - is a process, and a critical one. Respect it! Budget for it! Shake off the Puritanical notion that taking a nap or reading a comic book constitutes loafing when there's work to be done. Guilt and shame are processes, and entirely counterproductive. Of course, don't use this as an excuse for extreme, ruinous avoidance!

Headroom must be managed. Which means you need to consider whether a process is worth the assets it consumes. The most expensive process is also the least helpful: self-drama. If you perpetually star in a movie in your head - particularly if it casts you as a victim while you enjoy your unimaginably comfortable and secure life here in Utopia - your whimsy saps copious time and energy. Best to pay attention to what you're doing, and not to what you've done - or failed to do. Keep your channel clean and available, allocating extra space to new workshop processes (added judiciously!) and imposed processes (accepted amiably!).

The Juicy Stuff

Last time, I concluded with what I described as "the juicy stuff":
When you get a respite between imposed challenges, and eagerly take on a new workshop process, do not imagine you've achieved a New Normal. Respite is an exception, not an entitlement. Most people imagine that an undisturbed, unmolested, uninterrupted life is their birthright. Interruptions bubble up from some other realm, forcing us to pause Life until we can once again restart the clock and continue living.

Opt out of this insane framing to be less pained and stunned (less interrupted!) when tumult arises. Reframe the tumult! Deem it not interruption, but just another process to work!

The life clock never stops! Remember the closing line from last time: Living never pauses. Process = Life. Own it all. Don't frame yourself as sidelined just because it didn't go how you expect!
Consider a short order cook who clenches and curses whenever a new order appears. The guy is doomed. And it’s a question of perspective; of framing. He could just as easily accept new orders happily. Eagerly, even, making a light-hearted game out of meeting pressing need. After all, that's the proposition of games and sports; the epitome of leisure fun time! So why not opt for salvation rather than damnation, when it's just a trivial flip of perspective?

Heaven or hell: the choice is yours. But remember that stress is a grueling process of its own, which expands to fill all space. You may clench harder and harder and curse louder and louder while sinking into a vicious circle of overburden where everything eventually breaks. Just see it for what it is!

The Curveball

As previously noted, I work like an ant.
I'm like an ant. I'll very contentedly reconstruct a smashed anthill, one grain at a time, even amid multiple re-smashings.

To human beings, I suppose this seems sad. Humans aspire to grander dreams than endless drudging anthill reconstruction. They're taught to rage at the smashing.

But to ants, human beings - who grow ever more crippled and demoralized with every inevitable reversal, and who only with great weighty effort manage to soldier on - are the sad ones.
Life is enjoyable if you eagerly accept imposed processes (the disruptions du jour) with the same affability and engagement as your super-fun workshop tasks. That's the juicy epicenter of my message, and it is both 1. an extreme curveball and 2. eminently available, just like any reframing.

The proposition is radical and eccentric, but conformity is not always safe. One can follow a crowd straight off a cliff! Given how most humans appear so needlessly harried and clenched and stressed and unhappy, it's worth thinking twice before following the pack when it comes to process (and the processing of process). In just this one aspect, consider being a weirdo!

You could just as easily embrace disruption with the same delight as whatever you were working on before. This is how you make disruption disappear. You undercut it via embrace. You reframe it as a boost rather than hindrance. You incorporate it.

An ant reaches the same conclusion because, lacking higher-level thinking, it never frames counterproductively in the first place. For people, it's more involved, because we forget that perspective is volitional. We imagine ourselves persecuted by stuff we’ve arbitrarily decided to be persecutive. But we’re free! We frame the world, the world doesn't frame us!

At some point we've seen enough movies and TV shows, and observed enough role models, to absorb the deep conviction that disruption's bad. We are conditioned to clench and seethe! But here's another angle: doesn't that presuppose that you were expansively happy and delighted two seconds earlier? And will be once the interruption has been handled?

No. You weren't so delighted before, and you won't be so delighted after! And you could choose delight right now, even while searching for your car keys, preparing for the tax audit, or getting your scary lump x-rayed. You don't need to follow the script. You get to choose.

The choice is effortless, but it's a tough sell because the behavior I'm describing is "weird". But perhaps I've convinced you that it's at least possible to accept imposed tasks like an in-the-groove short order cook, or like an ant amiably grabbing another sand grain. Perspectives are hot-swappable, and re-framing is effortless and instant. You control this thing! You've just been pretending otherwise!
The fact that our society has somehow managed to contrive an aphorism as clueful as "Play the cards you're dealt" shows that, beneath the fraught drama, we really do know what's what. We just pretend not to know.
A blithe approach opens space to sustain an extra workshop process or two, even while handling the gaping hole in your roof and your kid's dislocated shoulder. I'm revealing the secret to versatility and high productivity. Frame the imposed task as an acceptable part of the greater flow - which is never interrupted!! - and you can transform "disruption" into, well, fodder. More life stuff to chew on! More doing what you're here to do! More of what corpses, claustrophobic beneath all that dirt, wish they could still be doing! Simply decline to ever pull a Gandalf, demanding/commanding that things go some certain way.

In the long view, much of the disruption we attribute to imposed tasks is just the friction of a dynamic world rubbing against our frozen perspective. We expected this, but then came that. We may not love our status quo, but we mourn it bitterly when it's been upset. For modern entitled humans, who have the chutzpah to imagine they get a vote in how things unfold, such an indignity feels like persecution from a wrathful God. It takes gobs of time and rivers of tears to come to terms with it and to move on. Or so I'm told. Me? I just go pick up another sand grain.

Like any point of sanity in a demented world, this curveball is profoundly counterintuitive, so let me run it through a slightly different lens, hoping it might sink in better:

We are conditioned to imagine we're battling imposed tasks. But there are far more effective framings. Try seeing imposed tasks as benevolent, not malign! Maybe life isn't so fantastic while you're working on your stamp collection or ballroom dancing steps, nor so catastrophic when the septic tank overflows or the car stalls! These are learned reactions, needlessly stanching happiness. Response can be reprogrammed with silky ease. Taught from childhood to "stick to our guns", we feel like losers blithely accepting detour. But that's a dangerous mindset in an endlessly dynamic world where the flow never stops and nothing disrupts unless you’ve set rigid requirements.

A continuous series of challenges, shifts, and mishaps is what we're here for. You signed up for this! So relish the obstacle course, like a bratty kid firing away on his Playstation. Redirect your relish - the relish currently directed to the lifelong project of needlessly stressing yourself. This extremely short posting might help. Doing Life means the whole bundle. Life doesn't stop when you stub your toe. It's one Big Process!

The Framing of All Framings

This is the framing of all framings, and it's just as easy and instant as any other. Simply opt out of the "Oh, shit!" response. Pop in a different tape!

If you find it hard to cultivate the habit of reframing into a higher perspective when you've shattered your phone or burnt the steak (the flip is effortless; the only struggle is remembering that the flip is available), at least strive to be more strategic. More clever and resourceful.

Work imposed tasks - however unthinkable - with the same passion and eagerness as your hot tango moves. You will sometimes forget yourself and snap back to wallowing in THE HORROR OF IT ALL. Just keep the other perspective close and periodically take stock of the larger dance. Instill the habit. I promise it's not hard, even when the very worst thing happens. It's all a game, and clear cognizance of this needn't feel deflating. Passion remains an option even for the mildly bemused. Do I strike you as the least bit blasé?

"Take stock of the larger dance." That's something an ant can't do, and it adds beauty to the equation. Which is something ants are missing, the poor little fellas.

Rather than curse your fate when circumstance forces you to cancel your vacation, keep one toe in the recognition that the deeper beauty is in playing the cards you're dealt, and doing so full-heartedly (see postings on karma yoga).

The Structure of Process

Understanding the structure of Process helps you elevate beyond the cartoon image of yourself as a lazy susan to be loaded with dishes, to a more realistic view of how you, your life, and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune intertwine. Step back and behold the machine. Take stock of the larger dance.

In terms of process, I hope I've at least convinced you that you are not a computer, blandly available to launch a given app upon command. We can't force that result; it's like trying to push a string. We can, however, cagily play at it, like a game, coaxing new processes into limited capacity while sensitively avoiding overburden. More like eye surgery than popping in a DVD. 

A Great Feast, One Plate at a Time

I play the cards I'm dealt. I endeavor to make the tastiest possible lemonade from any surfeit of lemons. I'm a coaxer, not a forcer, and this approach has worked. I've done accomplished work in seven fields, while marinating fresh insights and juggling myriad hobbies and fascinations. And I've now explained how I went about it so you can surpass me. It's not a talent thing, or an intelligence thing. It's a process management thing and a framing thing. My one unusual attribute has been my insatiable curiosity to fiddle with parameters and try to figure stuff out. And this is what I figured out.

Once you've developed a feel for how process works, it gets easy to playfully fit in more of them, remaining emotionally stable if they must be back-burnered when it's necessary to call a plumber or a cardiologist. Results are delightfully cumulative. A great feast can be built one plate at a time! Ant hills appear, magically, after a few days of trifling sand grain manipulation. They surprise you. Ants never drudge; they're perennially surprised and delighted by what's arisen, without self-conscious compulsion to take credit (credit-taking is a sapping process of its own, part of the cinematic approach I warned about earlier).

Once you hit a stride, you'll find yourself thinking very differently. You'll viscerally understand that inaction - rest - is a critical process of its own, to be nursed as sensitively as other spinning plate (I have always felt like a repulsively lazy slacker, and my affect can be slothful, bleary, and foggy for long periods between brief flashes of bristling intensity, and it took decades to realize that's okay). It's not the on/off situation it appears to be. Inaction is a process, so, until the day you die, your toggle will remain solidly "on" regardless of your particulars. Breathe easy; you’re doing it!

It's all process. You can't separate yourself from the greater flow! You can try, but cultivating a sense of separation is just another process! All this mental stuff is process. Consider depressives languishing in bed, incommunicado, tirelessly constructing internal towers of brooding discontent. They're very busily working on ambitious - though entirely futile - internal projects. They're the busiest of all!

I promise this isn't just Jim's kookie stuff. It will work for anyone, though your results (your "water jets", returning to an analogy from part two) will look completely different from mine. It takes all kinds to maintain this vast collaborative art project. And you can encompass multiple “kinds”, if you understand process. Even amid cascading disasters!

Back to New Year's

After spending several postings intermittently ridiculing New Year's Resolutions, let me flip it around.

They can work! But not like loading apps onto your smart phone. Wait, no, actually, it's exactly like loading apps onto your phone. Downloading an app does nothing; changes nothing. You must launch the app and use it. Nothing else matters, including your best intentions and carefully crafted policy positions.

The goal of this series hasn't been to discourage you from adding tasks or implementing resolutions. It's been to explain how to do it effectively. Remember my description of kindling a campfire by generating a precious spark, coaxing that spark into something just a bit greater ("You don't create the fire; you only cultivate the spark, which, in turn, makes the fire").

Also remember the level of effort and commitment required to actually fulfill a goal, as explained here and in the "get good" section here.

Postscript

Lots of words, lots of explanation, simply to persuade you (remind you, really) that the world is not a roiling tar pit of obstruction and persecution. It's actually quite benign, but it's up to us to structure, layer and pace our lives prudently, and to enjoy the big view of it all; to take stock of the larger dance.

We obsess over controlling outcomes (it’s a fantasy; we really can’t!), while completely ignoring our internal framing (where all our actual free will is!). The 5000 year written record of humanity shows us ceaselessly trying to game out the former while scarcely considering the latter.

All process is "our" process. The only possible disruption is from our own resistance. Choosing to embrace and surf and play - to encompass - reveals our true ownership of It All.

Life, alas, comes without a manual, but I've reverse-engineered a chunk of it, and I sincerely hope it helps :)


Further reading:


Wednesday, January 17, 2024

Why New Year's Resolutions Don't Stick Part 2

I'd recommend re-scanning Part 1 before proceeding.

The title is clickbait, just for jollies. This is a more ambitious undertaking: an exploration of how we manage processes, generally. How we keep them running, add new ones, and, sometimes, crash the entire structure. It sheds light on the New Year's Resolution problem, sure, but it’s way more broadly useful.

Pressure

Processes, considered individually, can seem hopeful. Some process somewhere in your life is improving! But the aggregate? Oy. The aggregate is an eternal problem. A bane, even.

It must be clear by now that life is a game of whack-a-mole. To mix metaphorical critters, our ducks will not line up, at least not for long. This is not a steady-state world; it's a realm of ceaseless disruption and interruption. And we're NOT OKAY WITH IT. Let's get that straight right now!

If aliens - having observed us via their quantum scopes on Arcturus-5 - were to draw a cartoon panel summing up life on Earth, it would be a harried dude clutching his head between his hands and moaning about never catching a break ("Mlok, Mlok, Mlok!" chortles Exslx the Younger; "That is SO human!").

Look up from your screen and behold 8 billion humans desperately struggling to tame it all into a composed snapshot for just one goddam moment.

And failing!

We can't be satisfied until we find a status quo where our nice processes run nicely; where we tinker with our fun workshop processes while working briskly down the list of all those totally do-able New Year's resolutions (remember, this is fantasy talking), with no nasty imposed tasks arising to upset the apple cart.

The problem is, the Universe absolutely hates that scenario. And we, in turn, hate the Universe for hating it. We're quite literally at war with the Universe over its perennial disruption. And, unsurprisingly, it's winning the war, though we’ll never concede defeat.

A Brief Injection of Broader Perspective

Of course we never stop to think any of this through (I do - insightfully, too! - but I'm down to about 25 steady readers). Instead, we pump ourselves full of stress and clench tightly in our eternal struggle for a flatly enduring status quo which would absolutely bore our pants off if it ever lasted more than a couple days (remember always that this maddening world is precisely tailored to our preference).

Nearly all stress stems from the universe's effort to give us what we actually want: lots of rich interruption, disruption, drama, and friction. Plenty of crap to complain about and problems to fall in love with and high-stakes outcomes enticing us to hope and pray and bet and thirst.

In that posting I keep linking to ("Why God Lets Bad Things Happen") I noted how we build interruption, disruption, drama and friction into every work of fiction and feat of imagination. Conflict is requisite in art, storytelling, and fantasizing. If our lives run smoothly for any length of time, we contrive Rich People Problems or engage in self-destructive behavior. When happiness arises, we grasp for painful ballast as countermeasure. A surprisingly large number of us drink to the point of spinning nausea to escape the daily oppression of level, grounded sobriety - exactly the thing we profess to desire.

I started this section saying:
We will never be satisfied until we find a status quo where our nice processes run nicely...
We wouldn't be the least bit satisfied then, either.

But enough broader truth. For the remainder, let's keep pretending we're hapless creatures trying to catch a break in a cruel cold world rife with obstruction and persecution.

The Mechanism of Breakdowns

When the tree falls and blasts a hole in your roof AND your car gets stolen, that's duress. The death of 1000 cuts seems just over the horizon. You'll know you've past a tipping point when you feel no impulse to complain about it. This means you have actual problems ("How to Tell If You Have an Actual Problem"), and other processes will slow or halt while you work the problem.

It doesn't matter if the aggravating process was added by choice (workshop) or by chance (imposed). Either way, the whole stack slows down and loses efficiency. We begin to "lose it". Keep going (which we often do, because winnowing processes feels like diminishment, and we want to feel like Winners) and you can find yourself in extremis.

Demon processes, meanwhile, keep spinning just fine. Like cockroaches, they'll survive anything. But they begin to grate on us as we become overextended. Camels and straws!

Kids get into trouble by over-packing workshop processes, and by underestimating the time/attention necessary to kindle an engrained process. Adults are normally disrupted by imposed processes.

But, either way, an extra process is an extra process, and headroom is surprisingly limited. Drastic overestimatation of headroom explains the futility of New Year's resolutions, which we foolishly expect to load like cartridges.

The Myth of Multitasking

Psychologists have shown multitasking to be a myth. Duh. Divided attention is divided attention. Fragmenting attention obviously impacts quality/efficiency/speed. Those who imagine themselves skillful multitaskers are oblivious to their outcomes. Given that few of us are inclined to soberly assess our results, it's hardly surprising that virtually all of us feel like deft multitaskers!

So, without multitasking, how did I ply seven different careers and boatloads of interests, hobbies, and obsessions? First, I didn't do it all simultaneously. It was serial, not parallel. I explained this in my posting on Procrastination (a must-read follow-up to this series), and also this, my posting on Promiscuity. Second: loads of passion, plied playfully/eagerly, not dryly/maturely. Third: I tried (sometimes more successfully than other times) not to waste headroom with processes of self-drama. More on that later.

Paralysis and Shame

You know you've reached really severe disruption/over-extension when engrained processes start to go haywire. Not just center stage workshop processes; but even the slow-simmering engrained stuff gets flakey. We don't eat right, or bathe regularly, and the rhododendron croaks from lack of water as engrained processes fail to fire on schedule.

This conjures up deep shame. I'm lazy! Broken! How hard is it, after all, to water the damned rhododendron?

Wrong question. It's not a lack of will, or a decline of competence. It's a lack of headroom. And headroom is more limited than we realize. Only an old guy sees this properly!

"But wait!" you might argue. "As over-extended as I feel right now, I'm still not working 24/7! I watched a movie last night! What's wrong with me, watching movies when I'm too disrupted to brush my teeth or lock the door? Surely, I'm lazy and/or broken!"

No. Watching movies represents a vital core process: rest. Humans must rest. We must periodically turn off our brains and immobilize our bodies, and spend time transported into other realities via novels, movies, songs, fantasy, revery, and/or dreams. Our bodies will not let us forego this, just as we can't easily renounce food, shelter, and sleep.

Rest is not avoidance of process. Rest is, itself, a process. A core one! That said, stretching out on a couch for days while your life blows up isn't "rest". Avoidance isn't rest. Beyond a minimal requirement, which you don't need to think about, because your body will shove you hard into rest mode all on its own, Rest is Not Real.

Tidy nuggets of rest are obligatory, and feelings of shame (our society retains latent Puritanism) add to the paralysis, shame being yet another process to juggle.

We can certainly hunker down for a few hours, knocking out tasks, but not indefinitely, like a computer blithely working through an infinite queue of tasks. Brunt-force is not a sustainable tactic - which, among other things, explains why we fail to willfully wedge New Year's Resolutions into the fabric of our lives.

"No sweat! Throw a few new processes into the hopper and proceed!" proclaimed an imaginary cartoon version of you. In real life, as we keep relearning, processes don't launch crisply on command, even when we have space in our lives for them. It's fraught and delicate and implausible, like trying to strike a match in a hurricane. Again, it's not about talent, competence, or fortitude. It's all about headroom. We need a sober grasp of our limited process bandwidth, especially since we're taught to imagine ourselves having unlimited potential.

Getting Past Notions of Indomitability

No! We don't have unlimited potential! C'mon! In fact, don't even use that word! Amid all the plate-spinning sturm und drang, getting your ego involved - with its dysmorphic illusions of Vast Potential and so forth - is a humungous mistake. It's also yet another process!

Potential fulfills out of process, like water jets from a fountain. The gushing fountains - the outcomes of our labors - are for others to regard and admire. Rather than muse about this grand trajectory, better to focus attention on those jets. Work the processes single-mindedly and you can avoid the exhausting burden of self-mythologizing - and all the self-deception you'll need to engineer when evidence accumulates that you're really not all that!

Quick Review

To review: We imagine, cartoonishly, that we can stack more processes willy-nilly. That we're gnarly that way. In reality, we can maintain our engrained processes, plus a workshopped process - or two or three of them if we playfully leap betwixt - plus the imposed process du jour and the next one inevitably en route. Overdoers make the catastrophic error of heaping on additional processes of shame and self-mythology, making it impossible to get anything done at all (explaining why most people do nothing).

As it all starts crumbling, a bath or movie is normal and acceptable. Same for smiling. But while we're capable of remarkable feats of exertion and endurance, no machine-like version of yourself is poised to swap in and work with cold machine-like efficiency. That's a cartoon - the same one where, on January 2, we leap up from our chairs to go pump iron, clean the basement, and practice cello, while keeping all previous tasks deftly in play.

Happy Frickin' New Year

You will not learn French or karate unless you've been graced with sufficient peace and space to comfortably ply your engrained processes and gently, intentionally, set aside a workshop process or two. If you even use words like "peace" and "space", that shows you're enjoying a respite between imposed processes. Muster some gratitude, and dig in until the septic tank overflows or your kid dislocates his shoulder.

Certain conditions must coincide. It's like needle-threading! Ramping up a new process is not something that can be scheduled, like a dentist visit. That's not how process works. Except, of course, in the cartoon version of you and your life, where adding a process is like popping in a cassette tape.

Space, the Final Frontier

If you're unhappy with the narrow limitations, you have two routes: fit things more cleverly into existing vacant space, or find ways to create more space. Either way, don't ever imagine you can stave off predicaments and persecutions. No human being has ever won an enduring victory against entropy.

The magic trick involves reframing, as usual. I've learned to carve out "peace, space, and comfort", and used the spaciousness to load more workshop processes - while, critically, leaving plenty of room for imposed tasks, which I've come to soberly expect and respect. I do not fight them. I do not resist. I am an ant.

I handle imposed processes coolly, practically, undramatically, and minimize their disruption by 1. simplifying my life and 2. learning to keep processes running amid tumult, mostly by avoiding self-pity and the shrieking of "No No No No!" I've become cordial with The Unthinkable. We play cards every Wednesday night. Freaking out is the most taxing and disruptive process of all, and I can't afford it. I've opted out of that indulgence, because it's just too damned expensive.

When you get a respite between imposed challenges, and eagerly take on a new workshop process, do not imagine you've achieved a New Normal. It's an exception, not an entitlement. Most people think of an undisturbed, unmolested, uninterrupted life as their birthright. Interruptions bubble up from some other realm, forcing us to pause Life until we can once again restart the clock and continue living. Opt out of this insane framing to be less pained and stunned (less interrupted!) when tumult arises, as it certainly will. Reframe the tumult! Deem it not interruption, but just another process to work!
Ok, now we're into the juicy stuff.
The life clock never stops! Remember the closing line from last time:
Living never pauses. Process = Life.

Next time: more Juicy Stuff, a Curveball, and advice for building a grand feast one plate at a time.

Thursday, January 4, 2024

Why New Year's Resolutions Don't Stick Part 1

The title is clickbait, just for jollies. This is a more ambitious undertaking: an exploration of how we manage processes, generally. How we keep them running, add new ones, and, sometimes, crash the entire structure. It sheds light on the New Year's Resolution problem, sure, but it’s way more broadly useful.

It's also the sort of thing a seven year old might come up with. I should note that my seven year-old self devised a childish budget approach which I still use to this day. It's sensationally pragmatic and useful. I hope this series will be similarly clarifying.

You'll be shocked at where this leads (in Part 3). Process disruption is mankind's greatest scourge, pound for pound, so a side benefit to dissecting this is, ho-hum, the key to happiness...not that that's what people actually want (here's what they want, and here's how they ensure it).

This is brought to you by your friendly neighborhood jazz trombonist/pianist/teacher/composer-arranger/writer/food pundit/Internet pioneer/community manager/entrepreneur/corporate sellout/karma yogi/philosopher/devoted chowhound. Longtime readers have observed that I keep an unusually gigantic number of pots simmering. So I know something about juggling processes. Catastrophic overload, too. Running Chowhound unfunded meant working seven or eight fulltime jobs concurrently for nearly a decade (unpaid). And that was far from the only time I strapped on The Red Shoes and nearly danced myself to death.

So this is very hard-won knowledge. You never want to touch bottom with this stuff. I did so you don't have to. Think of me as the Chuck Yeager of process management...with some post-accident Christopher Pike mixed in (blinking out "yes" or "no" responses via his adorable little light).




"Process" refers to projects, endeavors, and issues actively ongoing. Basically: the plates we keep spinning, small and large. Think of this as a meditation on plate-spinning.

Ok, I'll describe four levels of processes:

Demon Processes

Demons are tiny ongoing background processes. Reminders, alarms, alerts, vigils, etc., sane and otherwise. "Background" is a holdover from the term's computer science origins. With humans, a better word might be "unconscious".

I described how demons work here - and what the unconscious is, here. For purposes of this discussion, demons are not terribly interesting, because we have, by design, little control over them. But I will share a connection I just thought of, just because it's interesting. Pardon the brief digression.

Demons are very closely associated with earworms - songs that won't stop playing in your head. Like demons, they normally run just outside immediate attention, but periodically waft into view, often to our annoyance. Occasionally demons (e.g. "Don't Be Late!/Don't Be Late!/Don't Be Late!/Don't Be Late!") burst into center stage from their backstage lair. We may even speak the words aloud to ourselves. Similarly, an ear worm may come to the front, and be externalized by, say, whistling (less so these days, because people don't whistle as much). But, normally, it plays (and plays and plays) in the dark canyons beyond immediate awareness. Always back there!

Demons, too, gurgle in the periphery, cumulatively contributing nano-stress (more on our mental superstructure of stress here). They are the electrostatic hairball underlying all other processes. They take up some space and drain some resources, but we can't help it, so we can chalk it up to overhead. Demons gonna demon.

There are other unconscious processes, some spooky-seeming. Many of the fresh ideas I offer here percolated in the back of my mind for decades. This slow-cooking process is a natural facility anyone can tap into by turning down the mental noise - the indulgent drama and ditzy yadda-yadda. Accessing subtle realms requires forswearing the adrenaline rush and "alive feeling" that comes from stress, and the self-blasting of addiction. Living loudly to avoid silence and latency sacrifices more babies than bathwater.

Engrained Processes

Demons are like viruses. Simple snippets, not fully-formed organisms. Engrained processes, by contrast, are substantial. Like demons, we don't think about them much...unless we have to! Tying shoes, brushing teeth, locking doors. That sort of thing.

Engrained processes are relatively (though not completely) safe. Having been invested with momentum, we can normally count on their continuation (I'll explain, later, why they're not completely safe.)

Workshop Processes

Workshop processes require effort and concentration. Planning a trip. Renovating a bathroom. Getting in shape. Learning French. Hobbies, quests, and also smaller bits of business requiring a burst of focused conscious effort. Workshop tasks must be stoked. Nursed. Cultivated. As I once wrote, it's
....like starting a campfire without matches. It's not the time to visualize big blazing fires. Your job is to focus on generating a precious spark. Then to coax that tiny spark into something just a bit greater. At a certain point, it has a life of its own. You don't create the fire; you only cultivate the spark, which, in turn, makes the fire.

Or maybe the wind blows it out and you must start again. No problem; with attention focused on sparks, fire's inevitable.
Why are workshop processes so delicate? Because:
  1. they're new (i.e. not yet engrained), or...
  2. they're a poor match to our skill set (as skills develop, they become engrained processes), or...
  3. they're a poor match to our innate characteristics (so they will never become engrained, remaining workshop, requiring effort and cultivation).
The third sounds (and is!) frustrating, but it's magical. We feel natural revulsion toward non-fluent processes, gravitating to processes that swiftly engrain - i.e. that play to our talents. But if you lock in patiently, without exasperation or self-judgement, to an ill-fitting process, that's where the good stuff is (this is a big secret I never saw revealed elsewhere). In fact, the aversion to leaning into ill-fitting processes explains the general dearth of good stuff.

For an idea of how painfully slow it is for me to write (even with 30 years of professional experience), yet how brightly patient I am with the process - eternally "workshop", never "engrained" - see this video.

Engrained processes are fun. Stuff just works, easy-peasy! But a workshop process lubricated with bright patience (or "love", if you can manage it) over time can yield miraculous results. We don't lavish care and attention on engrained processes, and care and attention are the only route to transcendent results. This explains why I do my best in realms where I have little natural aptitude. I've overcome my revulsion. I'm willing to feel like a sucky loser. And I don't need everything to always get easier. I've dropped that expectation.

Imposed Processes

An imposed process is your obstacle du jour. A fallen tree just knocked a hole in your roof! You've got the flu!

I don't need to say a word about these. You are an expert. These are our disruptions, and we hate hate hate them because they interfere with our other processes. This is the bad stuff we flail, conspire, and pray to avert, so help us, gawd, amen. Less said the better, amiright?





So that's it. That's what we can do. The demons are the demons, careening in the background. Engrained processes also normally hum along nicely. A handful of workshop processes might be in play at a given moment. Plus, because we can never get our ducks in a row - Jane cannot stop this crazy thing! - there's nearly always an imposed process or two ungraciously landed in our lap.


Every bit of this was oversimplified. But it's artful oversimplification. Most people view their stack of concurrent processes as a tangled, messy blob...and further confuse themselves by imagining they can add new ones at will, like inserting a new DVD (hence the notorious fiction of New Year's resolutions).

My drastic oversimplification was deliberate. Complexity is like a vitamin when people oversimplify, but simplicity is a lifeline for overcomplicators. A simple - even oversimple! - reframing of "process" makes life easier to manage. And processes are the very substance of living. Every living human runs multiple processes, even if only in the negative (e.g. processes of avoidance, of self-destruction, of procrastination, etc). Living never pauses. Process = Life.


Next time: pressure and paralysis! Pressure signals that we're over-burdened with processes. If we don't triage and rearrange, it can all grind into paralysis. But we can carve out space in advance to more gracefully accommodate processes.

Proceed to Part 2

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