A Vote Against Multi-Tasking

We live in the United States of Immediate Gratification. One country on Planet Multitasking. In the Galaxy of Overstimulation. You get the idea. We want what we want, and we want it now. And thanks to modern technology, we can usually get it. We embrace this incredible power, and all the ways in which it enriches our lives. But, as they say, with great power comes great responsibility.

These are extraordinary times. Any bit of information we want is at our fingertips, a quick Google search away. With a phone and an internet connection, you can arrange for someone to show up to your front door with take-out food, a car to drive you somewhere, fresh groceries, you name it. Want to relive the ending to the 1988 NBA finals? YouTube’s gotcha. Wish you could see Grandma, but she’s a continent away? FaceTime her. These days, it seems like anything is possible. In a lot of ways, it is. But there’s one commodity that has become exponentially more difficult to come by: focus.

You’ve encountered it. A colleague passively scrolling through their phone while you try to pitch a new idea. A friend who stops mid-sentence in a conversation because they heard that intoxicating “ding” on their phone and were compelled to check it. You’re probably guilty of it yourself. Ever sit down at your computer with the intent of doing something very specific, get sidetracked by an email or an article that popped up, only to completely forget why you sat down in the first place? I have.

Look, technology is wonderful. So many of our daily tasks have become automated. Advancements in the field have made our lives exponentially easier in countless ways. But has it made things too easy? Are we conditioning ourselves for short attention spans, poor memories, and an inability to relate to each other? Think about it. You really don’t have to rely on your memory much anymore. Just Google it instead. Remember having to memorize people’s phone numbers? How many phone numbers could you recite today? And talking to people? Why bother? I’ll just text, shop online, use the touchtone option, and be a passive voyeur of some social media influencer’s life instead of (gasp) engaging another human in any real way.

When was the last time you were bored? Like really bored. Sitting-in-the-back-seat-of-the-station-wagon-driving-cross-country-with-nothing-to-do-but-track-license-plates bored. The second we sense a twinge of boredom, what do we do? Pull out our phones. Check email. Scroll social media. We barely know how to exist without some form of stimulation, because we so rarely have to be without it. But, here’s the thing: boredom can be a good thing. A powerful, life-enhancing thing. How? What did you do as a kid when you were bored, with little at your disposal to fill that void? You improvised. You got creative. You problem-solved. You used your imagination. The clouds became fire-breathing dragons. The floor turned into hot lava. You and your imaginary friend created your own language. Think about what that fostered in you, without you ever realizing it: the ability to adapt, to be patient, to be imaginative. The willingness to be silly, to take chances—to be self-sufficient. I think a lot about this a lot as a parent. How are my kids supposed to learn how to focus on one thing when there’s rarely only one thing to focus on? I want them to be able to have meaningful relationships. To be good listeners. To block out distractions when they are obstacles to reaching their potential. To be able to cope, to get through times that aren’t ideal, and to persevere. I want them to embrace creativity and try new things while also being comfortable just being. But this isn’t just a parenting concern. All of our cups runneth over with distractions today. Technology has produced a whole new gamut of options for young and old alike. So, if a lack of access to these innovations at one point helped us develop some of the life skills mentioned earlier, what is never being without them doing to us? For one, I’m guessing there are fewer floors are made of hot lava.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I want to go back to the dark ages of technology. It’s easy to glorify the past. Just ask someone of a certain age if Lebron James is better than Michael Jordan, or if music today compares to the “good stuff” that was made in their formative years. We tend to look back at things through a rose-colored lens that perhaps wasn’t quite as rosy in real time, and yearn for “the good old days”. I’m guilty of it. I’m prone to lament to my wife that I would happily trade in my iPhone tomorrow for an old-school flip phone. To disconnect a little. Get off the grid. But do I mean it? Do I enjoy having my entire music collection in my pocket, free to listen to any song I want, whenever I want? Do I rely on a GPS app multiple times per week to get around (spoiler alert: I have a terrible sense of direction)? Don’t I appreciate being able to catch up with an old friend and share current pictures of my kids? Of course I do. But do I also I wrestle with being present, no matter where I am, because home/work/fill-in-the-blank is just a click away? Do I catch myself looking at my phone sometimes when my daughter is trying to tell me a story? Have I gone entire days, particularly when traveling, with barely any human interaction? Sadly, yes.

There have been volumes of excellent research and books written on the benefits of deep, concentrated focus. So many historic contributions to our society were made thanks in large part to a dogged determination to a singular achievement—from Thomas Edison to Steve Jobs. Method actors will dive so deeply into their work that they won’t break character for the duration of filming, a period of several months. Athletes and musicians find themselves in a state of flow while performing their craft because they are so immersed in what they are doing that nothing else matters in that moment. Surgeons play classical music in the operating theatre to stimulate concentration. Even the single-mindedness of a young child trying to learn a new skill demonstrates the power of focus. You can’t find yourself transcending your potential, reaching new levels while in a state of flow, or intensely invested in the task at hand while trying to do two (or more) things at once. One of those things if not more always suffer, no matter what we tell ourselves.

Meditation and yoga are both great examples of ways to channel energy singularly. Anyone who has practiced either knows the benefits associated with something as simple as focusing on your breathing alone. The irony is that for people who do practice these forms of mindfulness, many of them report that they perform better and have greater satisfaction in other areas of their lives. So, by practicing being singularly present in a moment, all of the subsequent moments benefit. Another good example of the subtle but practical impact of focus are those people who have that “it” factor. You know the type. The ones that can make you feel like you’re the only person in the room when you’re with them. They maintain eye contact, nod along as you speak, ask probing questions. Ever talk to one of those people? You usually feel pretty good when you walk away from that conversation. That’s because you can sense that they are fully invested in that moment with you. People feed off of that. As a result, those folks are usually pretty successful.

It’s hard to be disciplined with technology and our attention. Really hard. There are a lot of very smart people being paid large sums of money to make it difficult to put your phone down or turn your TV off. An entire sub-industry has been created to capture and monopolize the most valuable assets we have: our time and attention. What we pay attention to matters. Don’t allow someone else dictate what that is. I’m not suggesting we all need to become yogis or live in a cabin in the woods to escape the pitfalls of modern technology and regain our attention span. But let’s not lose sight of how valuable focus is simply because it’s harder to do now than it once was.

These are extraordinary times. Any bit of information we want is at our fingertips, a quick Google search away. With a phone and an internet connection, you can arrange for someone to show up to your front door with take-out food, a car to drive you somewhere, fresh groceries, you name it. Want to relive the ending to the 1988 NBA finals? YouTube’s gotcha. Wish you could see Grandma, but she’s a continent away? FaceTime her. These days, it seems like anything is possible. In a lot of ways, it is. But there’s one commodity that has become exponentially more difficult to come by: focus.

You’ve encountered it. A colleague passively scrolling through their phone while you try to pitch a new idea. A friend who stops mid-sentence in a conversation because they heard that intoxicating “ding” on their phone and were compelled to check it. You’re probably guilty of it yourself. Ever sit down at your computer with the intent of doing something very specific, get sidetracked by an email or an article that popped up, only to completely forget why you sat down in the first place? I have.

Look, technology is wonderful. So many of our daily tasks have become automated. Advancements in the field have made our lives exponentially easier in countless ways. But has it made things too easy? Are we conditioning ourselves for short attention spans, poor memories, and an inability to relate to each other? Think about it. You really don’t have to rely on your memory much anymore. Just Google it instead. Remember having to memorize people’s phone numbers? How many phone numbers could you recite today? And talking to people? Why bother? I’ll just text, shop online, use the touchtone option, and be a passive voyeur of some social media influencer’s life instead of (gasp) engaging another human in any real way.

When was the last time you were bored? Like really bored. Sitting-in-the-back-seat-of-the-station-wagon-driving-cross-country-with-nothing-to-do-but-track-license-plates bored. The second we sense a twinge of boredom, what do we do? Pull out our phones. Check email. Scroll social media. We barely know how to exist without some form of stimulation, because we so rarely have to be without it. But, here’s the thing: boredom can be a good thing. A powerful, life-enhancing thing. How? What did you do as a kid when you were bored, with little at your disposal to fill that void? You improvised. You got creative. You problem-solved. You used your imagination. The clouds became fire-breathing dragons. The floor turned into hot lava. You and your imaginary friend created your own language. Think about what that fostered in you, without you ever realizing it: the ability to adapt, to be patient, to be imaginative. The willingness to be silly, to take chances—to be self-sufficient. I think a lot about this a lot as a parent. How are my kids supposed to learn how to focus on one thing when there’s rarely only one thing to focus on? I want them to be able to have meaningful relationships. To be good listeners. To block out distractions when they are obstacles to reaching their potential. To be able to cope, to get through times that aren’t ideal, and to persevere. I want them to embrace creativity and try new things while also being comfortable just being. But this isn’t just a parenting concern. All of our cups runneth over with distractions today. Technology has produced a whole new gamut of options for young and old alike. So, if a lack of access to these innovations at one point helped us develop some of the life skills mentioned earlier, what is never being without them doing to us? For one, I’m guessing there are fewer floors are made of hot lava.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I want to go back to the dark ages of technology. It’s easy to glorify the past. Just ask someone of a certain age if Lebron James is better than Michael Jordan, or if music today compares to the “good stuff” that was made in their formative years. We tend to look back at things through a rose-colored lens that perhaps wasn’t quite as rosy in real time, and yearn for “the good old days”. I’m guilty of it. I’m prone to lament to my wife that I would happily trade in my iPhone tomorrow for an old-school flip phone. To disconnect a little. Get off the grid. But do I mean it? Do I enjoy having my entire music collection in my pocket, free to listen to any song I want, whenever I want? Do I rely on a GPS app multiple times per week to get around (spoiler alert: I have a terrible sense of direction)? Don’t I appreciate being able to catch up with an old friend and share current pictures of my kids? Of course I do. But do I also I wrestle with being present, no matter where I am, because home/work/fill-in-the-blank is just a click away? Do I catch myself looking at my phone sometimes when my daughter is trying to tell me a story? Have I gone entire days, particularly when traveling, with barely any human interaction? Sadly, yes.

There have been volumes of excellent research and books written on the benefits of deep, concentrated focus. So many historic contributions to our society were made thanks in large part to a dogged determination to a singular achievement—from Thomas Edison to Steve Jobs. Method actors will dive so deeply into their work that they won’t break character for the duration of filming, a period of several months. Athletes and musicians find themselves in a state of flow while performing their craft because they are so immersed in what they are doing that nothing else matters in that moment. Surgeons play classical music in the operating theatre to stimulate concentration. Even the single-mindedness of a young child trying to learn a new skill demonstrates the power of focus. You can’t find yourself transcending your potential, reaching new levels while in a state of flow, or intensely invested in the task at hand while trying to do two (or more) things at once. One of those things if not more always suffer, no matter what we tell ourselves.

Meditation and yoga are both great examples of ways to channel energy singularly. Anyone who has practiced either knows the benefits associated with something as simple as focusing on your breathing alone. The irony is that for people who do practice these forms of mindfulness, many of them report that they perform better and have greater satisfaction in other areas of their lives. So, by practicing being singularly present in a moment, all of the subsequent moments benefit. Another good example of the subtle but practical impact of focus are those people who have that “it” factor. You know the type. The ones that can make you feel like you’re the only person in the room when you’re with them. They maintain eye contact, nod along as you speak, ask probing questions. Ever talk to one of those people? You usually feel pretty good when you walk away from that conversation. That’s because you can sense that they are fully invested in that moment with you. People feed off of that. As a result, those folks are usually pretty successful.

It’s hard to be disciplined with technology and our attention. Really hard. There are a lot of very smart people being paid large sums of money to make it difficult to put your phone down or turn your TV off. An entire sub-industry has been created to capture and monopolize the most valuable assets we have: our time and attention. What we pay attention to matters. Don’t allow someone else dictate what that is. I’m not suggesting we all need to become yogis or live in a cabin in the woods to escape the pitfalls of modern technology and regain our attention span. But let’s not lose sight of how valuable focus is simply because it’s harder to do now than it once was.