I myself get so absorbed in what I am doing that when I am called out of this almost trance-like condition, I am discombobulated. It's worse than being awakened from a sound sleep.

G2

Nancy Bauer

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The daily quotation on Oct. 9 was this: "I think people don't place a high enough value on how much they are nurtured by doing whatever it is that totally absorbs them." Since I had never heard of the author, Jean Shinoda Bolen, I had no predisposition either to ignore this advice or to take it to heart. Later in the day my son asked me if I had noticed it because it had hit home to him. I vowed, for about the thousandth time, to place a higher value on what does totally absorb me, writing fiction.

What does absorb you? It can be a jigsaw puzzle, intricate embroidery, reading, of course, especially a suspenseful mystery, woodworking where complete attention is necessary to avoid making a wrong cut. Anything that stops your inner voice from running on and on, reminding you of your imperfections, your chores undone, the rude words that you have spoken. But crafts, painting and writing have been especially created for allowing this absolute absorption. For people who are adept, weaving is a form of meditation, of praying in your own closet.

I can imagine my friend George Fry making his pop-up books, not only engaging the part of his brain that figures out the intricate engineering of paper folding but also engaging the part of his brain that creates beauty and meaning. What room would there be in his brain for that inner voice that dwells on troubles, that chastises about leaves not yet raked?

I myself get so absorbed in what I am doing that when I am called out of this almost trance-like condition, I am discombobulated. It's worse than being awakened from a sound sleep, as if I have just sat down to a gourmet dinner, only to have it snatched away. For many years I had an office outside my home so there could be no possibility of interruption. I no longer have an office, am frequently interrupted, and, as a consequence, am a lot grumpier.

Many contemporary writers have written about the worth of absolute attention: among others, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in his book Flow and Winifred Gallagher in her book Rapt. Csikszentmihalyi wrote, "We all are capable of reaching that state of effortless concentration and enjoyment called 'flow'"¦ The metaphor of flow is one that many people have used to describe the sense of effortless action they feel in moments that stand out as the best in their lives. Athletes refer to it as 'being in the zone,' religious mystics as being in 'ecstasy,' artists and musicians as 'esthetic rapture.'"

Gallagher makes extensive use of the work of William James, the 19th-century psychologist and philosopher. One of my favourite essays is James' The Gospel of Relaxation. He wrote, "The need of feeling responsible all the livelong day has been preached long enough in our New England. Long enough exclusively, at any rate, - and long enough to the female sex. What our girl-students and women-teachers most need nowadays is not the exacerbation, but the toning down of their moral tensions." This struck me when I first read it because I am one of those super-responsible New England women. Every once in a while I give myself a kick to remind me that I am not responsible for the whole world and should spend more time doing what totally absorbs me.

Did the "liberation" of women in the '60s and '70s result in "the toning down of their moral tensions?" I don't know. From the outside, this toning down seems to have applied exclusively to sex and clothing, but I do think there are more women artists nowadays.

Moral tensions are necessary, I suppose, but the enjoyment of what absorbs you is a spiritual act. It only seems like pure self-indulgence because it is so enjoyable. Certain crafts can seem less like self-indulgence because you are at least making a useful wooden bowl or a beautiful sweater. But creating a poem which perhaps no more than 10 people will ever read instead of washing the kitchen floor or visiting a sick neighbour does seem irresponsible.

My minister brother tells me that he doesn't like the children's sermons in churches because they are usually moral tales rather than religious ones: "Don't be a bully." Not the admonishment, as James wrote, "Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it."

My daughter has a memory of playing with Barbie dolls on her friend Patricia's back deck and thinking to herself, I'll probably never be as happy again as I am right now. She became an actor, and now the occasional precious moments of happiness come when she is acting.

Nancy Bauer is a writer of fiction and arts commentary based in Fredericton. She can be reached at wbauer@nbnet.nb.ca.