I splurged on a new mountain bike a few days ago. It’s lean and mean, all steep angles and aggro geometry that make it look fast even standing still. And the color? A dead ringer for the lilacs that have been in a love affair with my balcony all season. Swoon.
But aside from riding it home from White Pine Touring, I haven’t had a chance to test-drive it on the trails. Every day, my friend Tim texts me: Have you ridden it yet?! How is it?! I can barely bring myself to admit it’s actually leaned against a wall in my office-slash-gear room, next to my similarly neglected gravel bike. All dressed up and nowhere to go. Just a couple of expensive pieces of exercise guilt silently judging me with their pristine tires.
I tell myself it’s work and evening plans keeping me from riding. The truth is, I haven’t given myself permission to be distracted.
I think to myself: Girl, you wanna get stuff done? You need to focus!
But sometimes, when you focus too hard, you tighten the lens so much you miss the big picture.
As a creative person, I’ve always prided myself on my procrastination techniques. As if avoidance was a kind of balm for ideas. I swear, I’m going to sit down and write this website and these eblasts and those product brochures. Right after I make another cup of coffee. And while I’m up, I might as well do these dishes in the sink. And throw in a load of laundry. Forty-five minutes later, I’ve emptied the contents of my closet onto the bed and I’m reorganizing my sock drawer.
That’s procrastination. Distraction is different.
Distraction pulls you back into the frame. It lets your mind wander the corridors where ideas like to hide. Where procrastion is inertia, distraction is mobile curiosity. It’s traveling deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole, getting lost in the momen— Oh, look! Something shiny!
My boss says there’s no such thing as work-life balance. Instead of dividing life into neat compartments, it’s all flow. If you allow your mind to be, well, mindful, it’s never really off. Even when you’re sleeping, it’s working. Subconsciously processing. As if I needed another reason to nap in the middle of the day.
In a TED talk, Elizabeth Gilbert tells the story of poet Ruth Stone working the fields on her family farm. “She would feel a poem coming at her from across the landscape. It was like a thunderous train of air and it would come barreling down on her.” In that moment, Stone knew there was only one thing to do — “run like hell” to the house so she could write the poem down before it passed through her and moved on.
That’s what distraction can feel like sometimes. Not an escape, but a current running fast and furious — one that can sweep you off your feet.
I once worked on an ad campaign for a former agency’s summer hours. We wanted to let clients know that even though our offices were closed, our minds were always open. That’s the thing about creativity. It never rests.
You’re in the shower and an idea comes crashing in like Norman Bates. Or you see a wad of gum on the sidewalk that looks exactly like the head of Elvis Presley. Inspiration doesn’t just happen when you try. It happens when you notice. It can be profound or absurd. But you won’t find it if you’re not present.
A wandering mind is a wondering mind. Every 4 year old is a budding Picasso not because they focus on creativity, but because they live in it.
What looks like chaos might actually be the first semblance of clarity. Like a tangled jumble of necklaces, the human mind notices what’s incongruous. And yearns to sort it out.
Distraction works the same way. You get into a rhythm. Pure zen, discovery, joy. Suddenly, you’re not a human doing. You’re a human being.
If you think of it that way, maybe distraction isn’t slacking at all. Maybe it’s not some shrewd avoidance tactic. Maybe it’s letting your mind move in the way it knows best. Rather than a delay, maybe it’s the path itself. One you can log on your timesheet.
I don’t know. But as soon as I finish this column, I’m going to roll that shiny, new idea machine onto Lost Prospector and find out. And if it sparks one solid headline, I’m calling it a tax write-off.