I dated Babette for a hot minute in the early noughties. She was decidedly too attractive for me. Before long, this seemed to be the only thing on which we both agreed*.
On our first date, she asked me if there were any words I loved or loathed**. She loved the word “phantasmagoria”.
Phantasmagoria (noun)
1. an exhibition of optical effects and illusions
2. a constantly shifting complex succession of things seen or imagined; a scene that constantly changes
As the years accrue, my focus diminishes. I live with a certain phantasmagoria, my mental landscape constantly shifting.
The years aren’t the cause of the problem. Rather, by my reckoning, The 3 P’s–Parenthood, Pandemic, iPhone–have cumulatively conspired against my focus.
I’ve pursued practices that fostered focus to combat this trifecta. I scrolled through articles on mindfulness. I slid in and out of routines to find focus. I downloaded the apps. I drank chai tea and did tai chi.
This week, I read a book my lady recommended and re-read a book that inspired me long before I got swallowed up by the The 3Ps.
What did I learn from these books? I learned that my focus for reading is kaput.
This week, fearing what might ensue if my focus continues to erode, I’ve been thinking carefully about how to reclaim some of the focus I’ve lost.
To find a pathway into this problem, I've been assessing activities in which my focus seems most engaged. What did I do this week in which I was most focused?
Dancing. I had a couple late night dance parties with my kid. I literally have no moves. But I seem to be perfectly present when dancing.
Pushing iron. I abandoned weightlifting years ago, preferring bodyweight exercises, yoga, and high intensity interval work. This week, I reflected fondly on how much focus I used to have when pumping iron. While I pine for the pursuit of the pump, I find that pushing this sled until my heart beats through my chest elicits a demand for a particular type of focus that I want to capture and deploy during less torturous activities.
Have you ever seen I Heart Huckabees? I kinda love this film. Despite fundamentally different lives and attitudes, Jason Schwartzmann and Markie Mark Wahlberg (guided by Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin!) desperately grapple with existential dread that cripples their clarity and erodes their inner peace. Ultimately they find catharsis and focus when they take turns bonking each other in the noggin with a balloon. Pushing that power sled is my equivalent to a good balloon bonking.
Cooking. Knives sharpened. Music carefully selected. All five senses engaged. I was pleasantly surprised this week by how focused I am when cooking. While my partner worked, my kid and I had no school this week. Baby girl and I took refuge from the atrocious Berlin weather in our kitchen where I made three of our daddy-daughter comfort faves. Mussels in Wine Sauce. Veggie Chili. Hot and Sour Soup***.
This week, I’ve been thinking about how I might be able to mind my focus when dancing, working out, and cooking, so I can focus my mind when reading, playing music, and parenting.
Sorry Babs, this phantasmagoria doesn’t suit me so well. If you, my dear reader, do anything that fosters focus, please reach out to me. I’ll try anything at this point.
*Had we stayed together, I would be a grandfather now. Mind-boggling.
**I couldn’t bring myself to tell her over dinner on our first date. But I later fessed up. “Crotch”. How could it not be the worst word in the English language?
***No photo of hot and sour soup. I know. I was lining up to snap a shot and my kid, with a dash of snark not warranted by the situation, said, “do you ACTUALLY want to be the guy who photographs EVERY meal he makes?” I mean, no. I guess I don’t?
A note on The Sabbateur: I have convinced myself that rituals matter. Practices that mark time ground us. So this year, I will carve out 45 minutes on Friday, the Sabbath of my ancestors, to sit quietly in the corner of the high school library and ritually reflect on what I have been obsessing over that week. I would write more and more poetically, but I gotta get to my 9:45 class.
****Since I had no school this week, I took my time, wrote more and more slowly, and added photos for your viewing pleasure.