Mindfulness and cups of coffee
Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity
It’s really hard to focus when there are a million distractions in my life. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way because I’ve seen articles and tweets and posts about it. Too many to name. My attention feels like it’s constantly up for grabs — that no matter how good my intention is when I sit down to write or to read or even grab lunch with a friend, I will no doubt get distracted.
I don’t have any sort of diagnosable problem; I’m just overwhelmed.
There’s no better indicator of my distraction than my cup of coffee. The cup that inevitably gets reheated 2–3 times in the microwave before I have time to fully enjoy it. I like my coffee hot. There’s something so sublime about holding a warm mug in my cold hands, letting the steam tickle my nose. It’s not just the coffee, you see, it’s the experience. Lukewarm coffee is palatable, sure, but why suffer through it when sublimation is only 30 seconds away? Reheating though, is hardly the issue here. The real problem, as I see it, is that I simply don’t take the time I need to properly enjoy my coffee before it gets cold.
Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity
Coffee has become my sidekick, when it could easily be the main event. I could easily dedicate five full minutes to drinking my coffee to the last drop. I could sip it and enjoy its warmth. I could sit quietly or stare wistfully out the window. Instead, I get distracted by my phone — reading the news or catching up on Twitter, oh and then I realize that I forgot to read that case study I last night, or I just need to send a quick email and the next thing I know I’ve lost the thread of what I was doing initially and my coffee is half-finished and completely cold.
I reheat it and begin the cycle again.
But what’s more concerning is that my inattentiveness goes beyond the humble cup of coffee, and often creeps into the realm of interpersonal connections. Namely, people.
We’re all guilty of it sometimes — some of us more than others. The dreaded smartphone, the one piece of technology that has actually somehow made my life both better and worse at the same time. Better, in that every piece of information, all the songs ever recorded, anything I could ever want to buy — are just a few clicks away at all times. Worse, in that this is an overwhelming amount of possibilities. There’s always something to read or listen to or buy or play.
I used to think I was really good at multitasking, and now I think that all this time I was kidding myself. I may be really good at cooking eggs and washing the dishes at the same time, but I am terrible at having my phone out and giving someone I’m talking to enough attention. It’s no good. It’s not only just rude (come on, we all know it is), but it also means that I’m not fully integrated into the conversation. I’m missing out on the nuance of body language and tone of voice, the real connection that comes from good eye contact, and from understanding and feeling understood. If I’m distracted by technology, I allow myself to be less human. I allow myself to dehumanize the conversation, and to degrade, however slightly, the relationship I have with the other person.
French philosopher Simone Weil once said that, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” Clearly this was a problem even before technology made us more distracted, as Weil died in 1943. Humans, it seems, are highly prone to not paying attention. We always seem to find something to divert our attention away from being here now.
I’m not getting rid of my smartphone, though. But I am going to continue to practice mindfulness and being present in the moment. When I find my mind wandering to anything but where I am and who I’m with, I will try to be better at catching myself. I will practice being more generous through my attentiveness and actually enjoy my hot coffee.