This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt this frazzled—my attention smitten into pieces like a shattered bowl. My screen time, with phone and laptop combined, has been averaging 13 hours per day. The early days of startup life involve gushing paperwork, menial tasks, and a one-woman show of everything (minus dev). Endless milestones to reach mean I must be on call. But that feels more and more like an excuse to voluntarily give up control of my attention. Let the inertia of restlessness encroach my time. All I need is more screen time to distract me from what I need. I’ve lost track of what portion of my screen time is justified, and a part of me is too mindless to care. The thing about attention is that when it’s broken, it stays broken, like a strained muscle that may worsen if neglected. It’s not a one-time fix like I’m having whole-grain cereal instead of Krispy Kreme.
When my attention slips away, there’s a disconnect from my full human experience. Attention guides the way we perceive and experience; and in turn, it shapes who we are and how we live. I think our biology optimizes for deep, focused work. An uninterrupted flow state that un-selfs. Flowing in what? Not as important as the flow itself. When attention is broken, the mind loses its ability to hold a deep dialogue with the world or to feel affected by it, albeit this kind of dialogue is the wellspring for inspiration and creativity or to reach an understanding about anything. With frayed attention, we gloss over what our senses are dying to feel and numb ourselves with information that only blocks those senses.
There were times when my mind thrived on noticing the rich textures of the world around me. The pavement, the abandoned yard behind my old East Avenue house, walking in the snow with friends after a party, giggles like wind chimes. Small, simple things gave me so much joy. Friends and strangers met at Kafe Kerouac and talked all afternoon. For a change of fresh air, we’d walk outside. It was midsummer and 8 pm and the sky still donned light orange. My friend remarked how the color of the sun looked like the Tikka Masala I had cooked for us for lunch. Journaling together on the terrace of a cafe with swaying willows and the West Lake before us. Memories in full resolution. I used to know when my coffee was 1/4 spoonful too milky (now I chug without savoring). When I diced garden herbs, the lingering fragrance on my fingers always put a smile on my face. There was a sensitivity to change and subtlety. A sharp perception of the world’s energy potential. Anything could happen because everything is happening. Feeling so enveloped inside the creases of life.
Living attentively means allowing each moment to overflow with the full spectrum of emotions. Joy or pain, every feeling becomes the first step towards moving through it. Some emotions cut so deeply they uncover truths about life we never knew existed. And for that, we can be grateful—the depth of life itself, a reminder of our own aliveness.
But when organic interactions are stripped away, digital information dulls our emotional depth, flattening our capacity to feel. Language often relies on other senses—physical touch, a sense of time, and context— to fully interpret meaning. Like commuters on the subway, heads bowed to their screens, my attention slips away. But I don’t want to mourn its loss.
I want to reclaim it:
Finish my thoughts. It’s so easy to pause or abandon my thoughts because of how difficult it is to finish them. But it’s so important to think them through, especially the painful and uncomfortable ones. I’m practicing sitting down in front of a blank page and patiently untangling the knots in my mind. Listening to Kacey Musgraves’ two albums Deeper Well and Golden Hour from start to finish has also been deeply meditative.
Read philosophy. Lately, I barely have the bandwidth to read a short note. So I’ve bought An Essay Concerning Human Understanding by John Locke. I am painfully and slowly chewing on Locke’s eloquent and abstruse prose to train my brain’s ability to think abstractly and symbolically again. I need this.
Watch Perfect Days (2023). I feel so at peace while watching this beautiful film. There’s still so much I’m processing. Maybe one day I can write about it.
Be a little silly. A good play that exhausts my energy is the best kind of reset. I’ve been singing and dancing in my room with upbeat music. Sometimes I still feel a bit numb, but I believe that, gradually, movement can help me feel more in tune with my body.
Walk slowly. Take deep breathes and steady steps in the sun. Take in how stylistic the streets in Shanghai are. So much life all around.
Look at things and discuss them. My friend Lindsay invited me to an exhibition on the British Arts and Crafts Movement at the World Expo Museum. It’s in collaboration with V&A and features a stunning collection of handmade items that resemble everyday beauty. Staring at the blue floral tapestry together, Lindsay tells me about the book The World According to Color: A Cultural History. “We feel a sense of expanse and a distant endlessness associated with the color blue, because our understanding of it comes from our experience with the ocean and the sky, both vast and spacious.”
"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." – William Morris Repeat.
Love,
Erica
A beautiful song…
Note: The cover image and thumbnail are stills from Perfect Days (2023)
I love that vibes like the movie Perfect Days.