Had a couple really satisfying sessions today with a couple of my mental edge clients.
Fortunately, it’s rare that I’ll take my headset off and think “Wow, THAT did not go as I’d hoped it would.”
I feel fortunate to have daily opportunities to dig around in the muck of my clients’ lives with them. You know, the stuff that accumulates over time– some of it crusty from severe droughts and some so thick and muddy and that we’ve lost a few pairs of shoes struggling to wade our way through it.
Sometimes, like today, there are moments during our calls when I am so focused and tuned into the frequency of the emotion and the words my client is conveying to me that I lose myself. I don’t hear my replies when I’m speaking. I don’t see the words as they move from my brain to my lips. I couldn’t tell you afterward what prompted me at any point in the conversation to have a certain thought. I am in the zone.
“Zoned out?” you ask?
Well, kind of! Ever been in that place where time and space stand still? You drive somewhere but you don’t recall getting there? I’ve given seminars and workshops and felt this way. Am I zoned out?
I’m so zoned in that I’m operating with a level of disconnectedness and yet, at the same time, a crazy, intense directedness!
I tried to explain this to a friend of mine once after what I had felt was a particularly successful talk with a group of highly motivated and inspirationally hungry individuals, and she just stared at me blankly.
“It’s like I saw each face in the room, but I didn’t see them,” I explained excitedly.
I’d had other moments like this, and each time I do, I try to assess what got me there because I absolutely have to recreate it. I’m at my best. I’m creating without censoring. One thought feeds off another, and it’s effortless.
It’s like a musician you are watching and you can tell that she’s lost in the music. She’s feeling every note, each vibration of her instrument, the delicate crescendos and the mountainous upbeats. She knows of nothing else but the music. Not the audience, not the time, not each written note on the score in front of her.
It’s like a stand up comedian who just goes on and on, run after run, one joke flowing into another….no hesitation, no awkward pauses.
Athletes speak of being in the zone– gymnasts describe the beam being wider, basketball players see the basket as being larger, and baseball players have talked of seeing the stitches on the ball.
Ever been there?
Being in the zone is magical.
Being in the zone is what I want more of.
Being in the zone is what I strive to create.
But being in the zone doesn’t just happen. It occurs with repeated actions and practice and visualization and a depth of experience. My ego disappears, my senses disappear, my focus on assessment and analysis and problem-solving disappear. But how?
The same way that you learned how to ride a bike or drive a car– through repeated, intentional, meticulous, sometimes painstaking and maddeningly frustrating efforts– you develop a skill that is fed by familiarity. And when you’re in the zone you’re not thinking about everything on the outside!You’re not judging, you’re not critiquing, you’re not worrying. You are just enjoying.
Researchers have shown through observation of individuals in this state, often termed “flow”, that their involvement is so intense, they are caught up in the pleasure of it. They are in “deep play.” See my previous post on observing children. They are prime examples of being “in the moment” so fully that all externals no longer exist.
Here is what one client described as she filled me in on what her last workout was like. She is a chronically anxious, worried person. But she experienced the zone, and it was liberating.
“Getting every single ounce out of the workout- Digging in. Not thinking about anything else. Pushing myself as hard as I could and loving every moment of it. Feel proud.