Flow: One of My Favorite Flavors
When I was a runner – a slow runner, more of a jogger – other runners, writers who wrote of running, and ads advertising all sorts of sexy running gear, eventually referred to some magical state they reached while in the midst of a run, a sort of dream-like trance they entered.
They called it flow.
The flow for runners, as it was told to me by other runners or writers who wrote of running was a sort of psychological grace one arrives at during a run. Those runners experiencing flow got completely lost in the activity, so much so, they forgot the time of day, their responsibilities and their woes.
Like getting drunk or high or dropping acid, it was relayed to me, only without the substances. The running itself is the substance.
I never reached this plateau of peace when I ran. I looked at my watch, I noted the half-way marks I passed, and I looked forward to the iced tea and shower at the run’s end. That’s it. There was never a “flow” in my running experiences.
I’ve heard others speak to this state when they fly fish or play golf.
Writing, when it’s right, when no one can get to me, when I’m physically at a place that affords me a table, a view, caffeine and maybe a nosh, gets me there. It happens because I’ve hit that spot or scratched that itch that writers all know.
It is a transcendence, a state only obtained in the very act of doing.
Occasionally, cooking can do it. Sometimes, organizing a closet or cleaning out a drawer does it, but not as much as three hours of writing and knowing I’m ringing my own inner bell. The bell is in there all of the time, but it requires me to take action.
Mihály Csíkszentmihályi is a Hungarian-American psychologist (1934-1921) who wrote Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. He defines flow as, “the state in which people are so involved in activity that nothing else seems to matter.”
It’s a beautiful and exact definition of the state I’ve experienced. He goes on to write that flow is a state of complete immersion, concentration and enjoyment and affords key elements that include deep focus, loss of self-consciousness, distorted sense of time, effortless involvement and activity that is intrinsically rewarding.
It’s not watching TV or a movie because those are passive activities. We’re not doing anything, and that’s the key, flow comes in activities that literally take us away.
I believe this psychological state is the difference between a happy, satisfying life and one that can feel it is built upon drudgery.
I don’t pretend to be a psychologist or professor of the human mind, but as a human, I know that this state exists and that we can lovingly reach for this state. When we play with a child (action), play a sport, engage in conversation or dance, we gift this state to ourselves.
Csíkszentmihályi goes on to explain that the conditions that lead to flow include activity that is challenging but matched to your skill level. You have clear goals, you get immediate feedback, you have deep concentration and can avoid distractions.
This is why much of my writing happens in various coffee shops. The people at coffee shops are strangers, so I’ve no responsibility to them, but for mutual respect. I am away from daily demands. Coffee shop workers wait on me, not the other way around. It’s a nest of peace and possibility.
Csíkszentmihályi further describes the characteristics of flow: a sense of control without effort; merging of action and awareness; loss of self-consciousness; altered sense of time (time flies); and intrinsic motivation – you do it for its own sake.
See, none of this happened for me with running or with an ill-attempt at golf.
Flow experiences add meaning to life, and over time, help construct a life worth living.
It’s a magical place, the flow. It’s not automatic and it’s never a given, which adds to its preciousness. It’s private, intimate and deeply satisfying.
Maybe it’s the key to life, to a satisfying life.
And maybe it’s just a nice place at which to arrive.
Whatever it is, I hope flow flows into yours.