William James on consciousness and movement

Posted on February 4, 2013July 10, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

William James, from the University of Amsterdam

In the 1961 text titled Psychology: The Briefer Course, William James, (an eminent theorist and one of the founders of modern psychology), writes a series of essays on habits, consciousness, the self, attention, association, memory, sense of time, and several more topics. The book, a compilation of James’ (1842—1910) writings, was one of the foundation texts for advanced introduction to the history and systems of psychology during my undergraduate education.

I found myself re-reading Chapter 14, on Consciousness and Movement—particularly the ideas that our thought patterns are influenced by our ability to move, or moreover, the fact that we are first and foremost mobile creatures—implies that consciousness itself is a motor activity. It’s been a while since I’ve dusted off my psychology textbooks, but I found myself up at night re-reading texts and trying to figure out what the relationship between movement and thinking implied.

In chapter 14, Consciousness and Movement:

“All consciousness is motor. The reader will not have forgotten, in the jungle of purely inward processes and products through which the last chapters have borne him, that the final result of them all must be some form of bodily activity due to the escape of the central excitement through outgoing nerves.”

“The whole neural organism, it will be remembered, is, physiologically considered, but a machine for converting stimuli into reactions; and the intellectual part of our life is knit up with but the middle or central part of the machine’s operations. “

A bit further into the chapter, he talks more specifically about the relationship between feeling/thought and movement, which I find particularly interesting:

[…]

“Using sweeping terms and ignoring exceptions, we might say that every possible feeling produces a movement, and that the movement is a movement of the entire organism, and of each and all its parts.”

The implications of this are fascinating. If every thought is a movement—that is, if every time you think, you produce some motor reaction (a neural stimulus, a twitch, a physiological shiver or reaction to stimulus; if each thought is related to stimulus that is transmitted through mechanical means throughout your body,

Then every single movement in your body is correlated to some extent, to thought.

And if this is true in one direction—if every motion in our body maps to some sort of thought process and embedded, historical thought;

Does every thought we have recall that initial motor stimulus and reaction?

…

And if so,

Does the act of movement, of creating mirrored movements and using each component part of our bodies, from walking to sitting to bending to lifting to exertion, to micro-movements and patterns of the smallest, indiscernible increment, but movement nonetheless—

Then cause us to think, even if only to recall previous thought patterns?

…

Certain physiological processes and therapies, massage in particular and yoga as another example, have foundation in the idea that movement is training for the mind.

The implication, however, for a society that prizes sitting, creating, and laborious hours behind a computer unmoving, — does this cause the resulting correlating conclusion of an equal and opposite reaction–or possible that a lack of movement may be correlated to an unmeasurable or intangible lack of intelligence happening on a widespread scale?

I suppose I’m suggesting: is a sedentary nation also a stupider nation?

Perhaps this is too far-fetched and unproven to be real; hence it is entirely (at current state, in my current mind) a speculation exercise: but sometimes, I wonder, after the glorification of Steve Jobs has waned a bit longer, after people thoughtfully critique his unique ability in a unique time and tease apart his contributions; –I wonder if the application of modern computers, with wide exception of course, will also be seen to perpetuate the numbing of a certain type of intelligence.

Thoughts for pondering.

I’m working on a series of essays and thought pieces about the importance of movement and thinking and the relationship between the two. I host a series of events called “Walk and Talk,” in San Francisco that marries the ideas of movement and analysis and provides fodder and opportunity for philosophical discussion. The groups are small, but feel free to request and invite if you’re in town.

Also–if you’re in San Francisco this week, I’m teaching a class at General Assembly this Thursday, February 7th on Storytelling and Narrative. I’d love to see you there!

Good, fine, busy.

Posted on January 28, 2013July 10, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

When someone asks you how you are, do you answer in one of the following three ways?

I’m good!

I’m fine.

Ohhh, Busy.

Imagine eliminating those three words. What would you say instead? How would you respond?

Inspired in part by a sign on my wall, and a 2003 post by Penelope Trunk called “Stop Being Busy.”

Keep Writing.

Posted on January 24, 2013January 25, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

I’ve had a few people ask me about writing habits, what compels me to write, and how to keep the habit.

A couple of thoughts:

Don’t worry about what it looks like, or how much of it you’re doing.

Don’t worry about who’s reading it, or what they’re saying, or whether or not anyone’s reading it.

Don’t worry about whether or not it’s “the right time,” or that you’re in your pajamas at 1 AM scrawling out a couple of things.

Don’t worry if it’s 6 AM and you forgot to wash your face and you still need to brush your teeth and the coffee is cold, or warm, or not even made at all–or if you’re on your tenth cup.

Don’t worry about whether you’re writing on a bus in between trips, on a notebook without any lines on it, on a age-old laptop (mine’s called Tubby, by the way, ’cause he’s a real chunker), or whether you’re working in Pages or Word or Tumblr or WordPress.

Don’t worry if you switch topics and platforms and ideas and think that it’s all confusing other people. It doesn’t matter.

Maybe don’t make too much of a plan, other than the basic commitment to keep showing up and writing about whatever you want to write about.

Don’t worry–at least not yet, and maybe not even then–about what it adds up to, or what it will become, or even why you’re doing it.

Don’t worry about only having 20 or 30 minutes a day to write; don’t be discouraged. Keep writing, whenever and however you can. A couple thoughts a day for a month can add up before you know it. Write when you can, and thank yourself for doing it.

Don’t worry about the fact that your life doesn’t look like a “writer’s lifestyle,” or the fact that you have a job or you only have limited time each day to write. Mark Twain was an insurance salesman, if it makes you feel any better.

Don’t worry about whether or not you don’t have a bed to sleep in at the moment, or if you have a house over your head, or if the bed you do have is too short for you so you’ve got to sleep on the concrete floor in your sleeping bag for a couple of months.

Don’t worry about the people who don’t understand why you need to write, and if someone tells you that writing isn’t important or that you aren’t a good writer or that you shouldn’t spend so much time writing, by all means do it anyway, because it’s not about whether or not they think you should write, but about whether or not you think you should write.

Don’t worry about not getting enough sleep, about forgetting to wear deodorant, about feeling incompetent, about not being sure what to say.

Don’t worry if your first ten, twenty, or an entire year’s worth of posts are shit and you can’t figure out if you’ll ever be able to string together words in the way you want to.

Just keep writing. Writers write.

Remember: Just keep writing. The only way to become a writer is to write.

And all of the above, for me, has been true. And I kept writing, and so should you.

With love,

Just One

Posted on January 21, 2013January 21, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

What would just one of something look like?

Not a diversity of items, but a simplicity of things. A specificity, a selection, and a deliberate choice between several?

Not three workout programs, but just one workout program.
Not seven yoga mats or towels, but just one.
Not eight new dresses or blouses, but just one. Your favorite one.
Not two sets of bedding, but just one.
Not four new books, but just one.
Not three bedrooms, but just one bedroom.
Not two cars, but just one car.
Instead of two sets of tablewear, just one set.
Instead of eight dreams, just one dream to work on.

Sometimes I get caught in the trap of needing more. I have a brown pair of boots, but now I need a black one. I have a black pair, but now I need a tan one. And I need a pair of rain boots. Four pairs of boots? Do I need four pairs of boots?

What would just one look like?

[Or none at all?]

Let’s Go For A Walk and Talk: Experiments in a Creative Series.

Posted on January 17, 2013March 24, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

“Modern literary theory sees a similarity between walking and writing that I find persuasive: words inscribe a text in the same way that a walk inscribes space. In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau writes, ‘The act of walking … is a process of appropriation of the topographical system on the part of the pedestrian, it is a special acting-out of the place … and it implies relations among differentiated positions.’ I think this is a fancy way of saying that writing is one way of making the world our own, and walking is another.”

— Geoff Nicholson, The Lost Art Of Walking.

Walking is critical to thinking, yet we are an increasingly sedentary society. Let’s move, think, wander. There is language and brilliance in movement, in walking and exploring.

Or, perhaps as Austin Kleon says: “You are a mashup of what you let into your life.”

This past year, I designed an event series around spending time walking and talking with a small group of people in San Francisco (and expanded to Boulder, Colorado for a special session with the Bold Academy). The purpose of the Walk + Talk series was to explore different conversations and new spaces, as well as to test an idea that I’d been mulling over for some time: That walking (and movement) are critical to thinking, and that a walk can enable more vulnerable and in-depth conversations in ways that sitting and talking don’t always do.

For each event, I put together a set of ideas loosely related to a particular topic (with suggested readings and prompt questions), but certainly allowed for people to be free to wander off point and engage in their own imaginations.

Over the past dozen events, there have been several emerging themes and realizations. There are several reasons why walking is conducive to better thinking, from the positioning of our bodies in space, the the idea of a destination, to the elevation of our heart rates to 100-110 beats per minute. When you design scenarios that enable trust–and walking with friends can be designed to create a space of safety and exploration–the ideas and innovations and possibilities that result can be astounding. And sometimes, you just need to walk it out. Just as the peripatetic philosophers did years ago, let’s engage in a short walk and ask good, hard, interesting questions.

I believe in the importance of conversation and wandering and connectivity, and I’m exploring a theory that movement is essential for unlocking the thinking in our minds. I also want to create a space for respectful, fearless conversations, idea exchange, and explorations. Particularly or equally important was the group curation–I invited minds that I admired, thought leaders and people willing to be vulnerable and inquisitive; and kept the size small enough to create space for long-form conversation.

The fact that we’re creating a small but growing group of philosopher-wanderers who gather to muse about the future of the world, modern issues, and other topics at hand makes me incredibly excited. Each walk, a new theme is put forward, with suggested reading passed around in the group.

If you’re in San Francisco, ask about next event or email me to find out more–I tend to keep the groups very small, so space is limited. The idea, however, is free. Walking and talking are inherently human activities and no one owns them, and I’ll be posting the reading sets for people to borrow on this website (please, take them!). If you find more readings or articles related to movement, thinking and consciousness, please send them my way. The world needs more walkers and philosophers. (And as a bonus: if you come up with your own reading set, send it my way and I’ll use it for a future group).

Thoughts and musings for the afternoon:

How often do you take a walk?
Are you a solitary walker or a group walker?
When do you do your best imagining and thinking?
Is thought and movement related? How is movement important (and critical) for innovation and creativity?
Do you wander in places that are familiar or unfamiliar?

“It’s not about where an adventure ends, because that’s not what an adventure is about. Let’s get going.” – Matt Damon (In the movie “We Bought A Zoo”).

Tell me your story in the comments! I’ll be writing more on movement and consciousness in several future posts, and I’d love to hear from you.

What’s On Your Mind?

Posted on January 14, 2013January 14, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

“We’re not here, for that long, anyway. But to spend almost half our time lost in thought, and for the most part unhappy at that–well that’s pretty tragic, isn’t it?”

— Andy Puddicombe

How does your mind work? What brought you here? What patterns occupy your thoughts and recur, repeatedly?

Andy Puddicombe talks about the power of meditation and how beneficial it is for each of us to stop for ten minutes each day and simply to look at how our mind is working. (The link takes you to a 9-minute TED talk).

When you stop and look at your thoughts, he asks, do you notice–

That you’re dwelling and ruminating on one particular, circling, repeating thought?
That you’re reinforcing certain story lines and patterns of mind?
That your mind is restless and agitated?
That your mind is dull, boring, or mechanical?
That you have a nagging thought that comes around and around?

How does your mind work, anyways?

The point of mindfulness isn’t judgment or instantaneous change, but rather, an awareness of what is actually happening in your mind, without judgment. It’s familiarity with the present moment, and an awareness of how, in fact, your mind is working.

Sometimes in order to know what’s on your mind, you have to slow down and take a look at that very mind. What’s in it?

Enjoy,

John Stilgoe on the Magic Outdoors: Get Outside!

Posted on January 11, 2013January 6, 2016 by Sarah K Peck

Why is walking and wandering through the physical world so important?

While the architecture of the digital world is equally fascinating–we’re all increasingly inhabiting spaces that don’t have correlating spatial and locational constraints, and the architectural design of online communities, internet spaces, and experiences is an art in an of itself,–there is a beauty and magic to exploring the physical world.

Embedded within the world around us are clues and pieces of magic that tell us how it was formed, where it came from, and what the layered stories of space are. We inhabit the spaces built by generations, and I often think in my city wanderings that walking through an old city is like walking through a collection of brains from times’ past. The best of invention (or communication or understanding) turn into creation, and those creations tell us a story about the discoveries that happened. Tall buildings rose when elevator shafts were made possible and concrete, rebar, and steel upended the limitations to how many bricks we could pile atop each other. Better air quality mechanisms and water infrastructure (particularly the removal of thousands of pounds of liquid shit, made by humans), allowed us to put more humans into smaller spaces without the same adverse repercussions. The invention of air conditioning is credited with unlocking the southern states and making them habitable for “real” industry and office work in the middle of the 20th century. Continue reading “John Stilgoe on the Magic Outdoors: Get Outside!”

Radio Interview: Musings on Design, Environment, Behavior and Sustainability

Posted on January 8, 2013January 8, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

How do you build a sustainable life, what does psychology have to do with cities, and how do you wield the power of learning how to say both yes and no strategically? Did you design your own job? How do you balance a full-time job with all the side projects you want to do? What happens when you’re frustrated because your employer doesn’t understand that you want to do more than what you’re already doing? What is environmental determinism? What is the relationship between environment, design, and behavior? Is the world around us really just a game?

And for goodness sake, what does it feel like to swim Alcatraz naked?

Last night I was fortunate to be guest #66 on Radio Enso hosted by Greg Berg. It turns out radio interviews are really fun! As a Prairie Home Companion and NPR enthusiast, I am quite fond of the audio-only medium. (Plus, Greg was an incredible host–impeccably well-prepared and GREAT questions.)

Listen here: Radio Enso #66 with Sarah Kathleen Peck.

If you have more time, also check out the quick video round-up by Todd Schnick on how to kick ass in 2013. I have a one-minute spot in it where I talk about my favorite two tips for how to get things done (hint: get started, and do less than you think).

What questions do you have?

Enjoy,

2013: Lessons to Take With Me

Posted on January 7, 2013January 1, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Part two of my annual round-up. For part one, check out my annual review for 2012.

The last year, or two, weren’t easy–and full of lots of mistakes–but incredible and far better than the first half of my twenties. I’ve mused lately, in my 29th year, what this decade will add up to. What have I done? What does my daily life look like? How have I changed? Have I made a mark on the world?

By and large, the latter half of the decade was far more psychologically and personally satisfying–coming into stride with many of my quirks and idiosyncracies, delighting in saying no in order to stay at home and work on a project purely because my soul wanted to, and deciding to skip, sing, hold hands and lie on the floor when I felt like it–all of this slowly built a foundation of happiness and glee I wasn’t accustomed to after coming off of years of teenage (and early twenty-something) angst. It’s worth saying, however, that much of the groundwork for many of my leaps and bounds between age 25-29 came through several years of dedicated, isolated, and non-public personal and professional efforts in my younger years.

In short: it gets better. For those who work hard, and who are exploring and taking chances, it adds up. Keep going. Learning compounds, (the right) friendships deepen, people stop caring if you have acne or armpit sweat or if you spit a little when you talk (or they tell you, directly and kindly) and generally they care more that you’re passionately geeky about something, that you take your energy and focus it on making things happen, that you’re crafting both an identity and a legacy in the world, albeit through trial and error. If you’re in a slough–and I’ve had years of undulations, so I understand the melancholy that can come from not understanding just-quite-what-to-do-next–stick it out another season, and keep experimenting.

In the meantime, here’s what I’ve gleaned along the way, particularly lessons that have solidified over the last year. In looking back through the essays on this site and musing over what I’d like to take with me, here’s what I’d like to carry with me for this next spin around the sun.

Almost everything is far easier said than done.

It can take a year or a decade to learn a lesson and build a practice or a habit I joke that it takes me a year to learn a habit because I’ve got twelve months to try 30 days over again, and by the 8th or 9th time, I’m almost there. Yoga took me four years to get into. Running took me three years. Blogging, two years (or ten, depending on how you count and whether copious emails and live journal count as blogging). Every lesson I’ve learned I had to learn personally. reading other’s wisdom didn’t cement the idea into my soul, my being.

So for everything below, I’ll write the lessons–but in all probability, you’ll also have to learn them yourself. Continue reading “2013: Lessons to Take With Me”

2012: Year In Review

Posted on January 4, 2013January 1, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Pelican on the San Francisco Bay, November 2012 (see below for the photo-behind-the-photo).

This is my typical annual review, a process by which I review this blog, my life (although not all of it is shared here), the lessons I’ve learned, and some of the growth that’s occurred through projects and processes I have (or more painfully, haven’t) achieved and accomplished. This review is tailored towards this blog and my work in psychology, philosophy and online community building; I’ll share each of the sections of the review in categories accordingly, and it’s likely to be a lot longer than most blog posts.

Why An Annual Review?

I’ve been blogging here at It Starts With since May 2011, or for about a year and a half. Previously I wrote another blog for about six months, although I quickly tired of the title and theme and was frustrated with the design; before that I wrote essays for the local Examiner, many of which were cross-posted to create the early archives of this blog. Technically speaking, this site that you’re looking at didn’t exist until May 2011.

I engage in regular monthly reviews as well as a longer annual reviews similar to what Chris Guillebeau does–basically reviewing what went well and what didn’t go so well at year-end.

In the past year and a half, I’ve gone from zero subscribers and traffic and very little understanding of WordPress to designing my own website, playing extensively with Google Analytics and MailChimp, learning about subscribers, and interacting with a continuously-growing audience of some of the smartest and most interesting people I’ve ever met.

Where We’ve Been, and Where We’re Going.

More and more I’m convinced that very few of us truly understand the flattening and leveraging power of the internet: with consistent effort and publication of your ideas, you can find people and they can find you. No longer do we need to stay within the same location, job, city, or network, although the previous world constrains our thinking and perceptions of barriers more than we’d like to admit (or even understand). The best books I’ve read to this effect include Nick Bilton’s and Clay Shirky’s, among other of my favorite books from 2012.

In conjunction with this revelation that the internet allows us access and influence in ways not possible before, I’m also realizing how important understanding scale is for your objectives: and it’s not necessarily that bigger is better. Believe it or not, you don’t have to be the most important person on the internet (or in real life). The network size and community size you need is highly variable and doesn’t need to be that big–a lot is possible with access to just a few people, provided you cultivate the right niche and community. If you build a community of 100 people interested in knitting across your city, you can create a movement. The first YouTube video just crossed the 1 Billion threshold mark. The world is changing, as it always does. It’s exciting.

But back to this particular internet world, my blog:

Every year I sit down and look back at my piles of notes, writing, publication (on and off line) and the last year’s dreams. Dreams and goals are only as good as the number of times you revisit them to take steps or learn why you’re not doing what you want to be doing. Each annual review is typically a two to three-week process of reflection and discovery. Often I’m surprised, delighted, annoyed (and many other emotions) from discovering that in some ways, I’ve done more than I wanted, and in other areas, far less than I wanted. Continue reading “2012: Year In Review”