It matters if you focus on it

A meditation on how the subtleties of life influence our experiences.

How do we define focus? And how does focus tell us what matters to us? Lately, I’ve felt that I’ve been quite hard on myself. There’s always a lot to do (there always will be) but I’ve been counteracting that that by trying to focus on what things I think are going well.

I want to maintain that subtle, sturdy flooring of internal calm. I want to make sure I’m focusing on the things I want to matter more than disappointment or uncertainty.

A lack of intentional focus often leads to things appearing in our lives that we didn’t ask for or that threaten the integrity of everything we’ve created — and it often seems marvellous and terrifying all at once how these things seem to appear without our participation. But of course we participated. We probably just weren’t aware.

The subtle things matter just as much as the things we can touch.

I always find it helpful to take words literally and dissect them — “matter” is one such word that’s been on my mind and one whose meaning bears a lot of weight (no pun intended). We can define matter through the lens of physics as something that has mass, volume and takes up physical space. We can define matter as how important something is to us. And then there’s matter in reference to a topic or subject at hand.

Each of these definitions refer to something with enough gravity that it either exists tangibly or demands our focus. The point is it’s there and hard to ignore.

The physical things in our lives reflect something core about who we are. Someone who values their relationships highly might manifest that feeling as a smattering of photographs and polaroids in their home. An obsession with aesthetic might manifest as a beautiful space or a wardrobe bursting with clothes.

Perhaps a spotless, scuffless house where windows gleam, door handles shine and walls remain without blemish well beyond ten years suggests a very responsible person — or perhaps you’re just obsessive.

We may not be focused on these qualities, but they are there — even if they occupy a low-lying, barely conscious space in our minds. Thoughts and feelings share that subtlety, influencing so much of our perspective and, in turn, our actions and experiences.

M.C. Escher, Eye, 1946.

Subtlety matters; it rules everything

Several schools of thought use symbolic systems to describe how consciousness emerges from intangible to physical. Humour me for a moment: you’ve got the classic creation myths that typically begin with a primordial deity of the cosmos — they beget the Earth, then everything in it. The bible begins with the spirit of God (not God itself) to create space, sky, sea, land etc.

In Esoteric philosophy, the four elements — water, fire, earth and air — each represent a different facet of the conscious experience. Fire represents the initial impulse or life force that causes us to act. Air, the changeable winds of the mind and thoughts, which move at lightning speed. Water, the flow of emotions and the energies exchanged between individuals, especially in relationships. And Earth represents the physical, tangible realm of existence that we often define as ultimate “reality”.

In the branch of Jewish mysticism known as Kaballah, a similar system exists that describes the energetic process of creation. The four worlds, from top to bottom, are Atzilut, the initial spark of an impulse or an idea; Beri’ah, the process of mental gestation where we expand ideas and visions into a plan; Yetzirah, where we develop emotional connections to the vision and make it feel real; and finally Assiah, the grounded world where we carry out the actions and physically manifest the vision.

Each of these symbolic systems describes the process of grounding abstract phenomena into matter. It’s an interesting analogy for the way we act things out, but it makes me think about what that creative act looks like when we ignore everything before matter — the feelings, the thoughts and the impulse — and wonder why we’re so goddamn restless.

Recently, I’ve found myself so wrapped up in the pace of things that it has felt easy to lose sight of myself and what my feelings had been urging me to explore. Tired? Rest. Scattered? Slow down. Lethargic? Exercise. A lack of focus will cloud the obvious and suddenly panic is more real than the pen in your hand and eventually results in a tight chest or awful back pain.

I think I needed that, though, to remind me that focus is everything. Focusing on what feelings I’d like to nurture and what thoughts sooth the body.

I’m always stunned on the days when things feel emotionally intense – I’ll ask myself how it was possible the calm I felt the day before felt so real and yet so distant at the same time.

But of course I'd feel like this. The discomfort was all I focused on. Feeling our feelings is great but obsessing over them — especially under the guise of trying to “understand” them — is a sure-fire way to magnify them beyond proportion and feel terrorised by our own minds.

M.C. Escher, Other World (variation), 1946.

Our focus is a lens. The more focus we give something, the more defined and detailed it becomes. This has been the mainstay of any great art; look closer and suddenly layers on layers of detail unravel to envelop you completely. The same thing happens when we endlessly complain, gossip or focus on those things we don’t like about situations. It’s all we'll see.

The mundane matters too

It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of our inner worlds and forget to pay attention to the simplicity of life outside. I’ll marvel at how crooked trees, sometimes bent to the point of collapsing, simply are. And to show off, they’ll continue to flower and bloom while you turn and toil over the task you didn’t finish.

Telling ourselves that something  “does not matter” is more than an act of dismissal. It’s affirming that something does not warrant enough of our focus and continued energy to become tangible in our lives. It takes effort for anything to become physically real and I’ll be damned that I should keep spending that much time feeding the beasts of worry when that time could be better spent telling myself I deserve to relax.

I’m trying to remember that part of being kinder to myself is not trying to unspool each misdeed or emotion, but rather allowing them to pass. Focusing on inconsequential things like games, walking in nature or talking casually matter just as much as the things we want to improve.

It shifts the focus to a perspective that doesn’t make our suffering so real that it swallows the universe.

If it doesn’t matter, we throw it to the changing winds where thoughts exist and latch onto new ones that create more feelings of peace.

And if it does matter, we’ll chip away at whatever it is from a place of conscious choice and love, remembering there aren’t guns being held to our heads.

Have a wonderful week.

Lloyd x⊙