Compensatory maladjustments

Had a good discussion the other night with Fr. Ron Lengwin on Radio KDKA in Pittsburgh. We talked about The Power of Pause. And a good deal about setting down our sack.

Whenever I write or lecture or do an interview about The Power of Pause, I get the inevitable question; “how do I do this. . .this pausing thing?” Fair enough. Isn’t it interesting that we are wired to “produce” even when we are not producing. (Just look at me, in my previous blog bemoaning the fact that I didn’t blog all of last week. All that “wasted” time. . .)

We are most assuredly beguiled by the power part of the pause. As if the goal is to be skilled at this art. So. . .

We pause for productivity. (“Did you get a lot accomplished on your day off?”)

We become efficient pausers. (“Did you have a beneficial Sabbath?”)

We are competent pausers. (“Were you able to pause without distractions?”)

My next book is going to be the The Competitor’s Guide to Power of Pause. Or maybe, Surefire Tips on Multi-tasking and Pausing for Greater Efficiency.

To be sure, Pausing asks of us to make choices. (If we don’t say no to something in our life, no will be said by default, and we will end up saying no to the people we love the most.)

But there is no “correct” way to practice this art. . .of pausing.

Yes, we practice paying attention.

We practice being centered.

We practice living with our senses, what we see, hear, taste, touch and smell.

We practice listening.

We practice saying yes to the moment and no to urgency.

We practice taking ownership and responsibility for (to embrace) our uniqueness (including the beauty, the inimitable, the tidied-up, the unattractive, the muddled, the unpleasant and the transgressions).

Trouble brews when we are tempted by (what John Dewey called) compensatory maladjustments. It means trying to make something right by overdoing or over exerting.

For example: Stop and smell the roses, turns into hanging an Antique Rose air freshener on our rear view mirror, with the windows rolled up, racing down the highway.

Simone Weil gives this illustration: If one says to one’s pupils: Now you must pay attention, one sees them contracting their brows, holding their breath, stiffening their muscles. If after two minutes they are asked what whey have been paying attention to, they cannot reply. They have been concentrating on nothing. They have not been paying attention. They have been contracting their muscles.

More information does not necessarily lead to better decisions. [One] study … gave horse-racing handicappers varying amounts of information when ranking horses. The more information they received, the more confident they became about their answers. But the success of their predictions was actually worse when given 40 pieces of information, than when given five. (The Economist)