Everyone experiences the state of flow now and then. What is it? The guy who literally wrote the book on the topic, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, describes this state of “optimal experience” this way: “Concentration is so intense that there is no attention left over to think about anything irrelevant, or to worry about problems. Self-consciousness disappears, and the sense of time becomes distorted. An activity that produces such experiences is so gratifying that people are willing to do it for its own sake, with little concern for what they will get out of it, even when it is difficult, or dangerous.” (Quoted from Flow: the Psychology of Optimal Experience) Full disclosure: I have this book and have skimmed but not studied it. What follows is my own take on “flow”. If you want the full scholarly treatment, I encourage you to read the book.
The example of flow that inspired me to write this essay is the experience I achieve during spin class. I can achieve flow in other ways but it’s most consistent when I spin, so I’ll use that as my primary example. I’m sure you can think of your own. For some people it’s a hobby like playing a musical instrument or gardening or building furniture or model airplanes. For Trish, it’s painting. Flow is achieved with some activity that so totally absorbs you that there is nothing else but that activity. It can last for hours for some people. For me, I’m lucky to achieve flow for half an hour. I just can’t still my mind long enough to stay engaged in anything for hours. I have the attention span of a gnat. But that is what makes even a half hour of flow so precious to me. It’s rewarding. It’s rejuvenating. It is profoundly satisfying.
For me, the ideal activity to achieve a state of flow is something that requires precision and concentration yet also contains a bit of repetition. Maybe that’s why I love Baroque music so much and fractals make me weak in the knees. My mind enjoys patterns yet also needs variations on that theme. Spin class is clearly in that vein. It’s not that complicated; you are pedaling on a stationary bike. You don’t have to steer or avoid potholes or watch out for cars. You don’t even have to balance! You just get on the bike, clip into the pedals (yes, I spent an insane amount of money for shoes with the clips in the soles), and move your legs up and down. Spin class does, however, require a bit of skill and intense concentration. The skill part comes with understanding how to properly balance your weight in the different positions so you can push hard without injuring yourself. It does not take years of schooling and an advanced degree to attain this skill, but there is some pain involved.
When I took my first tentative steps toward spinning a few years ago, I had to work up to that threshold skill level. I started with “Gentle Cycle for Seniors” which was anything BUT gentle. I needed several sessions just to figure out the optimal settings for me on the bike: where to set the handle bars, seat height, seat depth. There was figuring out what the right baseline gear was for me so I didn’t peak in the first five minutes of the class. Then there was figuring out how to “run on the pedals” when in a standing position without killing my knees. And I won’t even get into the “seat pain” issue. This is the first lesson: flow rarely happens the first time you do something. You need to develop that threshold skill level that allows the activity to become comfortable, pleasurable, and gratifying. I kept going because there was just something about spinning that looked like I would like it. Eventually, I got there.
I wish I could be one of those people that can sustain a state of flow for hours. The closest I come is when I get absorbed in a good book, but I more consider that losing myself in a good story and excellent writing than achieving a state of flow. I have actually sort of achieved flow working on spreadsheets. I get some weird pleasure from spreadsheets where I can set up formulae and—be still my heart!—pivot tables. During my later work years, it was actually calming for me when I worked up my weekly business performance numbers and our scorecard measures. I got so efficient at it that at times I would actually be disappointed when I finished. It was a sad day when I was forced to give over that task when my job role changed and I no longer had direct responsibility for day-to-day business management. I had trouble letting it go because I never really saw it as a burden. I am embarrassed to admit that I complained about it because I felt I SHOULD consider it a burden!
I also can achieve short bouts of flow when prepping for cooking. With a good sharp knife and some clever assistive devices, chopping vegetables can be a meditative experience. It has all of my requirements for a state of flow: repetition with variation, a need for skill and precision, and a requirement for concentration. What limits me is that standing on my feet for long periods is tiring and, well, you only need so many chopped vegetables for any given dish.
But let’s get back to spin! Here is the anatomy of experiencing flow during a typical 45 minute spin class. During the first five minutes, I am warming up my body and settling into position—becoming “one with the bike,” if you will. I have my water bottle and my sweat towel but don’t need either yet. There’s music. There’s the instructor running down what the upcoming challenges will be. I’m focusing on that feeling of my legs moving up and down, up and down, getting into that rhythm. After that first few minutes of warm up sprints and a small hill, we get down to business. I’m feeling the music, usually timing my strokes to the beat. I’m hearing the instructor’s directions on gear and position and just responding. I know what my body can take and for how long and I work to get to that point where I just can’t do any more. For the next 20-25 minutes, I am in a state of glorious flow. My mind is totally focused on my body and the commands from the instructor. I feel the exertion, know when I am approaching my limits, and push right up to the edge until we back off that particular challenge. I feel the pain of the exertion and it’s almost addictive. I want more! Until I don’t. THAT point usually comes with 10-15 minutes to go. Flow is done. Now I’m getting tired and the concentration is focused on doing the best I can and getting to the end. The relief when that last song is over combines with the endorphins from the workout. I’m basically worthless the rest of the day and it’s awesome.
Mihaly says you can purposefully create the conditions to achieve a state of flow. I won’t disagree, since I haven’t studied the book nor tried to put his recommendations into practice. I can only spin so many days a week, so I would like to find a few more sources. Sometimes I get into flow for a time when I write and I’m trying to nurture that by finding the right conditions (usually time of day) to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). However, I will say this: achieving a state of flow is good for the soul. We could all use a little more of that.