Kelly Barron

Mindfulness in schools, at work & everywhere

The Science of Self Talk

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We’re all familiar with that voice – the one that brays in our ear at daybreak, telling us we’re lazy for not jumping out of bed as soon as the alarm sounds.

It’s the same voice that says we’re incompetent, clumsy, thoughtless – and far worse – for botching a work presentation, breaking a wine glass, or forgetting a nephew’s birthday.

In the echo chamber of our inner critic, there’s very little we get right.

Negative self-talk makes us feel lousy and lowers performance. Not surprisingly, there are plenty of therapeutic approaches, self-help books, and YouTube videos aimed at countering it.

So much so, that standing in front of a mirror and affirming our self-worth ala Stuart Smalley – “I’m good enough. Smart enough and, doggone it, people like me” – has become a classic groaner. (See On My Mind below.)

But long before Stuart Smalley, dating back to the 1800s, psychologists have sought to understand how our internal dialog impacts our thoughts, emotions, and actions. There’s also been a long-standing trend of trying to change how we talk to ourselves for the better.

In the 1920s, French pharmacist and psychologist Emile Coue advocated using autosuggestion and the phrase – “Every day in every way I’m getting better.” – to boost achievement. And since the 1970s, positive self-talk has been a go-to method for boosting athletic performance.

But does positive self-talk work?

The answer isn’t straightforward. Overall, pumping yourself up is better than putting yourself down. But how, when, and what you say to yourself matter. Also, positive self-talk might not be for everyone. Some of us just aren’t that chatty.

“Self-talk needs to feel right for the person using it in a particular situation,” says Judy Van Raalte, a self-talk researcher, and professor of psychology at Springfield College. https://www.cindrakamphoff.com/judy/

If you’re a football player, firing yourself up before a game by shouting “Let’s do this” might prime performance. But it could derail a golfer, who needs library silence to sink a putt.

Positive affirmations also backfire when the person uttering them already has low-self esteem. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2009.02370.x  Telling yourself  “I’m the best” when you believe “I’m not good enough” creates cognitive dissonance and makes you feel worse. So, too, does saying “I’m calm” when you feel a beehive of anxiety buzzing in your belly.

What to do? Reach for reasonable, encouraging statements and experiment with the tone, phrases, and circumstances to determine what works best for you.

Simple, statements such as “You can change;” “You’re capable” and “You’ve got this” might be more convincing to a skeptical brain than grandiose ones professing “You’re a genius.”  Saying “I’m excited” when you feel anxious is a helpful reframe that matches your physiological state. And, during an athletic performance short, instructional phrases such as “breathe” or “focus” inspire while downplaying distraction and mental overload.

Another nuance: When using self-talk in stressful social situations, referring to yourself in the third person might be more effective than using first-person pronouns because it increases self-distancing and regulation, according to researchers at the University of Michigan and the University of California, Berkley.

“Good job, Kelly. This blog’s a little humorless, but it’s still great information.”

I feel better already. But apparently, I’ll have to keep it up. Turning the tide of negative self-talk takes work, with some research showing benefits accrue only after a month of diligent practice. (https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Fuel-Surprising-Purpose-Performance/dp/1538134411)

Changing your inner dialog takes mindfulness, too.

After all, you need to know if you’re chiding yourself for hitting the snooze button before you can tell yourself it’s okay to get a few more winks.

On My Mind

For years, my inner critic carried a bullhorn.And because of that, I’ve long been a fan of saying loving things to myself while looking in the mirror and using compassionate and motivating self-talk throughout my day.

Doing that as well as loving-kindness practice, which is a mindfulness practice that entails repeating loving and kind phrases to yourself, others, and the world around you has muted my rampaging inner critic and opened my heart.

But ever since watching this hilarious and cringe-worthy Stuart Smalley video I make sure I talk to myself in the mirror when no one is around.
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The Home Office Backlash

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At the beginning of the pandemic, there was a lot of giddiness about the wonders of working from home.

Freed from long-commutes, employees stayed in their pajamas and Zoomed with colleagues from their living room sofas. Others decamped from busy cities to more rural settings like Idaho. (I know someone who did that because they no longer had to take in-person meetings in L.A.) Architects began designing homes to accommodate not one, but two or three home workspaces.

 

But as the pandemic grinds into its seventh, eighth, or ninth month (I’ve lost count,) plenty of people who are fortunate enough still to have jobs are longing for their old corporate digs.

 

A screenwriter friend of mine says it’s more challenging to be creative without the fly-by office banter that often sparks new ideas. Another friend who took a new job just as COVID-19 hit says it’s been harder to get to know her new colleagues and learn the subtle politics of a dispersed, virtual office. It’s also lonely.

 

Then, there are the annoying logistical realities of working from home, whether it’s intermittent Internet or your 22-year-old cat caterwauling during a Zoom session because he wants food NOW. Spouses complain, too, when they can’t enter the spare bedroom turned home office to grab a pair of shorts.

 

Companies, such as JP Morgan, are taking a damn the torpedoes approach by bringing employees back into their Manhattan headquarters. A few others are doing the same, noting that the subtleties of working effectively together – such as trust among colleagues – erodes in remote settings.

 

But others, notably Twitter and Facebook, have told employees they can work from home, wherever that is, forever. “Location neutral” will soon become part of job descriptions.

 

All of it amounts to a massive social experiment that has rewritten the rules of the workplace. As with any upheaval, there are challenges and opportunities. There’s also a point of no return.

 

The Economist recently ran a cover story entitled “Office Politics: The Fight Over the Future of Work,” in which a picture of an optional office emerges where corporate workplaces become hubs for employees to meet sporadically.

 

Over my career, I spent time in plenty of offices. Some I dearly miss and others I’m glad I escaped.

 

But of those I miss, I still treasure my former colleagues and the way we came together around a shared mission. I miss bouncing ideas off each other and trying to solve problems together. I miss the inside jokes and occasional hijinks. In one newsroom where I was a reporter, we set up a miniature basketball hoop and held daily competitions, even on deadline, for who could sink a shot from the farthest distance.

 

Looking back, I realize that in a best-case scenario, offices are more like homes. And colleagues are more like family, complete with those we love and those we can barely stand.

 

More than anything, offices are places of belonging. And as virtual offices become a mainstay, creating a vital sense of belonging might be the most pressing challenge companies and their employees face.

Highly Entertaining

I’ve written before about the amazing mental, emotional, and physical health benefits of being outdoors.One reason nature is so incredibly beneficial is because it puts us in touch with the uplifting state of awe. Anyone who’s ever watched the sun go down over the Pacific Ocean or hiked up a trail to take in an inspiring mountain view has likely experienced awe.

But you don’t have to travel far or wait for a solar eclipse to be transported into a sublime state of wonder.

You can simply wander out your backyard and study the architecture of a cobweb or marvel at the intense purple color of a single flower. To learn more about how to find awe in the everyday watch the video below from Iraq war veteran and outdoors educator Stacy Bare.

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Opening to Change

I’ve long envied my friend’s bountiful garden. Several raised planter beds in her yard grow a farmer’s market worth of plump tomatoes, squash, eggplants, peas, and beets.

When I visited her recently, though, I was surprised to see the planters gone, the ground beneath flattened and awaiting sod. After toiling in the garden for years, she was ready to let it go.

There are those among us, like my friend, who embrace and even begin change. I admire them and often think they’re the better for it.

Of course, we know change is the essence of life. If you doubt this, look at your 17-year-old who once sat in a highchair dribbling liquefied carrots down her bib and is now taller than you. Impermanence is a core teaching of mindfulness. Yet, the constancy of change is difficult for many, myself included, to accept.

This is not an optimum position to hold. It’s a bit like standing in the surf and trying to stop the waves with your outstretched arms. You get knocked down doing that.

We may not like change – particularly when it’s forced upon us by events we can’t control – but fighting it is futile. That’s never been more true than it has this year, which is like a master class in navigating unwanted upheavals brought on by a global pandemic, racial unrest, and natural disasters. (One of my favorite memes likens 2020 to a Razor scooter to the shin.)

But while we may not welcome change, we can learn to wade into its icy waters and eventually open ourselves to the possibilities it presents.

Julia Samuel, a British psychotherapist, and author says it’s by allowing ourselves to feel the pain of change that we adapt to fit new circumstances. And pain can be a signal that change is either underway or that we need to be bold enough to initiate it. https://juliasamuel.co.uk/

Long ago, another friend of mine (I’m so fortunate to have friends or I’d have nothing to write about) moved from her quiet, suburban townhome to a Zen center located in a noisy, dense part of the city.

She made the choice for many valid reasons and was secure within it. But she missed the lush, shady trees surrounding her townhome and the community pool she swam in daily. One day, she had a conversation with the roshi at the Zen center about her internal struggle. The roshi listened patiently and then kindly said: “That was then, and this is now.”

My friend realized she was trying to stop the waves with her outstretched arms. After that, she began to settle into her new home.

The power of heeding the painful signals of change often reveals new prospects, adventures, or long-postponed explorations. As Samuel wisely counsels even in the midst of change there are parts of you that remain soothingly and reliably unchanged. So much so that you might be confident enough to broker the vicissitudes of life on your own terms.

I fell into a conversation recently with a neighbor who told me she was considering renting out her house and using her dual citizenship to move her family to Canada.

Because of COVID-19 she and her husband were working from home and could now work anywhere with a solid WiFi connection. What’s more, schools in Vancouver allowed children to attend classrooms in person, an appealing option for her kids who were struggling with pandemic-induced Zoom school.

The other week I noticed the rental sign on my neighbor’s lawn was gone. A storage pod stood in the driveway.

All I could think was: “Good for her.”

 

On My Mind

Sometimes we need more than a little guidance traversing change especially when it comes to the big questions in life or things that Bill Burnett, the executive director of the Design Program at Standford University, calls ambiguous problems.


A common and recurring one is: What do I want to do when I grow up?

Burnett points out this isn’t just a question kids ask. Adults encounter this question over and over again as they transition through life’s many stages.

Much of the time when we seek to answer this question Burnett says we engage in suboptimal thinking predicated on misbeliefs. Only a rare few, less than 20% according to Burnett, know what their passion is, for example. And 10 years out of school      less than 20% of college students wind up working within the field of their major, he adds. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPjoCO5Juj0

Most of the time we have to try things before we fall in love with them. And that applies to ice cream as well as careers, of which we’ll likely have more than one. Using design thinking, or a non-linear, iterative approach, proves to be very helpful when      working in try-it-out mode and finding what it is you love to do.

If you’re curious about learning how to apply design thinking to life’s thorniest questions, you can read Burnett’s and Dave Evan’s book (see above) or watch the Ted Talk (see below.)
 

https://www.kellybarron.com/1096-2/

Deliberate Decompression

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When my daughter was a toddler and given to vibrant tantrums, I’d duck into the bathroom and tightly shut the door to deliberately decompress for a few minutes and settle my jangled nerves.

Doing so saved me from many regretful mothering moments. And it’s why I say I’ve done my best parenting in the bathroom.

Deliberate decompression has helped me in many other ways, as well.

It’s been an on-the-spot mindfulness practice to cope with moments of overwhelm – i.e., the bathroom technique. It’s also been a longer-term strategy that’s helped me course correct and renew my mind, body, and spirit.

Deliberate decompression takes many forms.

It can be as simple as pausing and purposefully relaxing the body by taking a full breath in and out, dropping your shoulders a few millimeters, and softening your belly. (Much of the day, whether we’re aware of it or not, we brace our core as if we’re waiting for a sucker-punch.)

We also can soften and widen our gaze to induce states of relaxation. (More on that below in On My Mind) Standing up and from the desk chair you’ve been glued to for the last three hours and stretching, taking a walk, napping, and, of course, meditation all count as intentional ways to deliberately decompress.

Using any of these approaches throughout the day creates more ease and increases alertness, concentration, creativity, and productivity as research on the Pomodoro technique, https://todoist.com/productivity-methods/pomodoro-technique which advocates taking work breaks every 25-minutes and science on napping and meditation show.

Hitting pause, especially when our emotions run high, also allows us to take our next action with wisdom at our side. Often, when we don’t pause, any insight or kindness we possess quickly gets run over by reactivity. (Like I said, it’s always good to know where the nearest bathroom is.)
Deliberate decompression also can be like a long-form poem – a day, a week, or a month or more off work to do nothing or whatever you want, provided, of course, you can financially afford to do so or desperately need to so do.

I once fell in the desperate camp and quit a job to decompress. In the fruitful uncertainty thereafter, I decided to change what I wrote about, become a mom, and later a mindfulness teacher. I’m far from alone in experiencing the upside of downtime.

In his book, “Rest: Why You Get More Done When You Work Less,” author Alex Soojung-Kim Pang https://www.amazon.com/Alex-Soojung-Kim-Pang/e/B001KHJ91I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1 chronicles countless examples of great leaders, scientists, artists, and writers who have all benefitted from slacking off.

General Dwight Eisenhower famously decamped to Telegraph Cottage on the outskirts of London during World War II to read cowboy novels and golf, which those who knew him well said prevented him from having a “mental crack-up.” Others have had creative breakthroughs on vacation. Lin-Manuel Miranda got the idea for his award-winning play Hamilton while reading Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton when on a break in Mexico.

For years, German sociologist Sabine Sonnentag has been exploring whether emotional resources for workers are as valuable as physical energy for athletes. Her work shows that workers who take time off are invariably more productive, have better attitudes, and are more collegial. Drawing on the athletic metaphor, Soojung-Kim Pang writes: “However much you love the game at some point, you have to stop playing and rest.”

As a culture, we’re notoriously bad at resting. Paid time-off piles up like laundry in an overflowing hamper. And apparently, we’ve been piling up even more vacation days during the pandemic, according to Zenefits, a human resources software company. (Some of that’s because we’re frightened about what will happen to our jobs if we take a break from them.)

But if you’ve been charging too hard lately, maybe it’s time to step back and ask yourself whether you need to deliberately decompress – even just for a moment or a weekend. You might be surprised by the good that comes from it and by how much your weary mind and body require it.

Lately, a friend of mine has been taking a breather by driving to the beach 15 minutes from her home and sitting in the sand whenever her schedule allows. I add this note knowing what a Los Angeles luxury it is to spend time at the beach. I also know that for many essential workers, who are putting in long hours on our behalf,  a day at the beach seems like, well, a day at the beach.

I have to say, though, my friend looks very tanned and very relaxed.

On My Mind

Ralph Waldo Emerson said “the health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never so tired, so long as we can see far enough.”

Turns out Emerson was on to something.

Most of us think the main job of our eyes is to see. But neuroscientist Andrew Huberman says that our eyes aren’t just for seeing objects, shapes, and colors. They’re primarily designed to help us regulate the state of our nervous system. Our eyes, for example, notice sunlight and darkness, which help coordinate the body’s internal clocks, cueing us when to be alert and when to fall asleep.

How we use our visual gaze also affects our nervous system. When we narrowly focus our gaze to stare at our iPhone we engage the go state of our sympathetic nervous system. In contrast, when shift into a more panoramic gaze to take in a sunset we activate the rest and digest state of the parasympathetic nervous system.

One isn’t better than the other. We need to do both. But we tend to spend a lot of time visually focussing and not so much time taking in the scenery.

For that reason, Huberman offers a simple hack that can help relax our nervous systems. Every so often, he suggests defocusing or shifting into panoramic vision where you can see what’s in the periphery. Taking a walk or riding a bike also induces optic flow, which is additionally relaxing to the nervous system and yet another way to deliberately decompress.

To learn more about Huberman’s fascinating research visit his website at http://www.hubermanlab.com/ or check out his Instagram page where you can learn about neuroscience in short, easy to understand snippets.  http://www.instagram.com/hubermanlab/?hl=en.

Cultivating Joy

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The other day I spoke with a friend I hadn’t connected with since the pandemic began. When I asked how she was, she unexpectedly said she had just tasted the best cherry in her life.

Her delight was refreshing, and it didn’t alter the underlying fact that she felt heavy-hearted and off-kilter because of the state of the world. She nonetheless found momentary joy in a bowl of cherries. Often, we have to coax these small moments of joy into our awareness. We have to let our guard down and allow them rub up against us like a purring cat.

Joy can be like that—small, unassuming, disarming. It’s hiding in a cherry, a song note, or a pair of comfortable shoes. Often, we have to coax these small moments of joy into our awareness. We have to let our guard down and allow them rub up against us like a purring cat.

Of course, our attention is often otherwise occupied—tugged toward irritation when we hear the grating whir of a leaf blower, or when we feel sadness after learning a friend is ill, or anxiety when someone we love has lost their job. And there are the larger forces that pull our attention—oppression, climate devastation, deep uncertainty about the future. Much of mindfulness practice is about learning to relate to these sharp-elbowed moments with equanimity.

But along with all of those dark and stormy moments is also the sunshine of joy. Just like irritation or sadness, subtler moments of gladness arise throughout our day. Bringing awareness to the many small good moments we experience isn’t a denial of everything else that might be wrong. Instead, it’s an honest appraisal of what might be arising in the moment.

For my friend, momentary joy arose in the taste of cherry. Right now, for me, it’s the dancing of my fingers on the keyboard. For you, it might be reading this story (I hope so) or sipping a refreshing glass of water. Connecting with modest moments like these not only feels good; it tempers our hard-wired tendency toward negativity.

Even without a pandemic weighing on us, human beings tend to be downcast. The brain registers negative experiences more strongly than positive ones because it helped our ancestors survive. It’s useful to have a brain highly attuned to threats when saber tooth tigers lurk in the brush. It’s far less helpful when threats to our physical survival are fewer, and when our enduring desire is to be at ease. As psychologist and meditation teacher Rick Hanson says, “The brain is like Velcro for negative experiences and Teflon for positive ones.”

One practical way to counter our negativity bias is to attend to joyful moments. Soaking in moments of delight requires mindfulness. It’s challenging, for example, to enjoy an uplifting breeze when you’re doom-scrolling on Twitter.

We don’t have to aspire to picture-postcard ideals of happiness to feel more joyful. Those are more than welcome. But so, too, are the quiet, happy moments that arrive when we’re present for them.

But you might be surprised that with intention to do so, you can notice the burst of joy you feel when your car engine reliably starts after sitting in the driveway for weeks, when the bus arrives just as you do at the bus stop, when a welcome breeze touches your skin.

We don’t have to aspire to picture-postcard ideals of happiness to feel more joyful. Those are more than welcome. But so, too, are the quiet, happy moments that arrive when we’re present for them.

Here are a few mindful perspectives and practices to cultivate joy in your daily life:

  • Shift Your Frame of Reference: I’ve made a case for finding joy in the nooks and crannies of our lives because too often, we reserve jubilation for milestones—a wedding day, the birth of a child or a hard-won promotion, etc. When we think of joy as belonging only to big events, we sideline the many small pleasures strewn along the way. Finding joy in our daily routines makes it far more accessible and creates a positive feedback loop. The more we attend to joy in the ordinary moments of our lives, the more we experience it, and the more joyous we become.
  • Slow Down: It can take the brain a few seconds to register that something good is coming your way. Slowing down lets your heart, mind, and body to acknowledge pleasure is present. Savoring the flavor of juicy peach allows you to enjoy it more as does pausing to feel your bare feet in the grass or lingering over the lines of a beautifully written poem.
  • Non-Problematic Joy: Sometimes, finding joy is as simple as noticing what’s not wrong. In the wild swings between pleasant and unpleasant, we often neglect the contentment of the neutral middle. Most mornings, for example, my teeth feel fine, the sun rises with confidence, and birdsong fills the air. While these experiences might not thrill us, paying attention to them encourages an appreciation and gratitude for all that’s still right in the world. As Chade-Meng Tan writes in Joy on Demand: The Art of Discovering the Happiness Within, “Knowing you are not entirely at the mercy of agitation can bring some joy.”
This article originally appeared in Mindful Magazine https://www.mindful.org/