Collective effervescence is an eye-catching name for the magic of shared experience and moving in unison. As described by the French sociologist Émile Durkheim, it picks out those times when people come together in synchrony for an experience that's different and often greater than those you can have alone.

It might be gathering and singing at a music festival, swaying to the music as one being at a concert, experiencing the wonder of nature together, when the crowd erupts together as a goal goes in and hugging the person next to you, taking a yoga or spinning class, worshipping together, the pilgrimage to Mecca, or that magical Shawshank Redemption moment listening to the duet from The Marriage of Figaro as one. Despite my feeble clarinet skills, I remember a brief goosebump feeling when the school orchestra played it all correctly. And I remember my hair standing up when Twickenham Stadium carried Swing Low, Sweet Chariot in unison.

Collective effervescence is something we missed during the pandemic. It was identified in Dacher Keltner's book Awe as one of the 8 Wonders of Life.

Also see: forest bathing, notice when you're happy, 5 ways to wellbeing

Collective effervescence

It's hard to beat the feeling of the warmth of the winter sun on your face. There's a word for it too: apricity. Uplifting, hopeful, calming — even a few short moments to bask in an unexpected, weak but glorious gleam of winter sunlight is wonderful.

A brief burst of apricity warms the spirits and your skin. It reminds me of distant warm, long, summer days, and the promise of spring in a few months. If it has been bleak and cold, apricity is that much more welcome.

From the UK's position in the Northern hemisphere, with the sun low on the horizon, you can let the sun hit full in your face in the middle of the day without craning your neck or leaning back. It's never too hot to seek shade, and often just the right brightness that facing it dead on with your eyes closed is ideal. Together with the long shadows of winter, the effect can have you swept up with the rays, letting them soak into your skin and transporting you away from the cold under your feet.

From the latin aprico, 'to warm in the sun', and in turn aperio, 'lying open', it has been around since at least 1623. It feels to me like we'd benefit from its resurgence.

Apricity

Don't compare your back-of-house with others' front-of-house.

Usually, we only see others' front-of-house, and because we know all about our own house it's easy to find ourselves comparing how we're doing in the back with how others are doing in the front. Often a recipe for unhappiness.

I remember wondering how a friend was so calm before their first child. They said, "I'm like a duck, calm on the surface, but underneath my legs are kicking like crazy."

The truth is we don't know how others are doing so best not be comparing at all.

This idea is inspired by an exercise about the hidden parts of parenting from The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read by Philippa Perry, though I'm pretty sure as a metaphor it can be quite widely applied.

Front of house, back of house

When you're deep in, it may feel like you have no time to pause. No time to take a break, there's too much to get done. Perhaps no time to stop and think about how you're working. No time to step back and improve your processes or work on your tools. Maybe even no time to look after yourself, to recharge, to reflect, to take a walk.

As the metaphor goes, you may feel you have no time to stop and sharpen the saw. Until you do it, and then you may realise you have no time to not stop and sharpen the saw.

Sharpen the saw is habit 7 of Steven Covey's classic The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Sharpen the saw

While I sometimes find myself drinking coffee and reading a book with a little background music, the basic idea of this Zen proverb seems sound. Stay in the moment. Don't try to do things at the same time. Focus on what you're doing. Leave the phone in the other room. Avoid continuous partial attention.

This proverb has stuck with me since I first came across it in a NYT article from Michael Pollan in 2009, no longer available online. He later published a summary of much of his food wisdom in his simple, approachable book: Food Rules. Several of them I realised I'd covered in some form here as sketches:

If it's not good enough for bugs, it's not good enough for you

Sketch in the ligne claire art style of Tintin.

When drinking tea, just drink tea

Meh. Blah. Can't be bothered? Not excited about the future? Perhaps you're languishing.

Adam Grant's NYT article, There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing, resonated with so many people as the coronavirus pandemic drew on. While not having a mental illness or being clinically depressed, many of us associated with a general stagnation or apathy towards things — an absence of, or poor, mental health. Languishing is a counterpoint to how we might feel in prime mental health, full of wellbeing or Flourishing.

While languishing may not be necessarily dangerous in itself, if you're languishing you may be at higher risk of mental illness.

Naming our state can be a first step to doing something about it

Looking for small wins that show us progress

Asking how our friends and family are doing — having the opportunity to speak to someone about it

You also might consider working on the 5 Ways to Wellbeing, getting in some forest bathing, walking a labyrinth, aiming for some flow, noticing when you're happy, or seeing what might bring you hope.

The term languishing for that part of the mental health continuum is from Corey Keyes. See for example, Corey L. M. Keyes. “The Mental Health Continuum: From Languishing to Flourishing in Life.”Journal of Health and Social Behavior, vol. 43, no. 2, 2002, pp. 207–222.

Armchair and inspiration, as usual, from Bill Watterson.

Languishing

There's a crucial, and wonderful, distinction between mazes and labyrinths.

A maze is a multi-branching, complex structure with twists, turns, choices, dead-ends and treasure or Triwizard cups in the centre. It's confusing, daunting, exciting, fun, challenging, maybe deadly. A maze heightens awareness, concentration, and your heart rate.

A labyrinth has a single path. One long, twisting, but unwavering path towards the central destination and back out. It's simple, calming, straightforward, reassuring and satisfying. Every step is progress. There are no tough choices to make. No paths, maps or mental models to balance in your head. Nothing to intrude on your thinking, just your next step. A labyrinth gives space for your thoughts, and is calming and peaceful.

If you want adventure and action, find a maze. If you'd like calm and contemplation, find a labyrinth.

No wonder then that walking a labyrinth has been found to reduce stress, increase calm and aid recovery in hospitals and centres for therapy and mental health care. Try tracing your finger over the paths of each to feel the difference. Also see: solvitur ambulando.

The two are based on the hedge maze at Henry VIII's Hampton Court Palace near where we live, and the wonderful Land's End Labyrinth (video) near where we used to live.

The original labyrinth of Crete, of Theseus and the Minotaur fame, was complex and confusing and no doubt not like the labyrinths that have now evolved from it.

Labyrinths and mazes

Wabi sabi is a beautiful Japanese idea and worldview of appreciating the small traits of imperfection, the changes in things as they age, and that nothing is wholly complete. It might be appreciating the unique unevenness in a handmade bowl, the cracks and weathering of wood as it is grows old, or the softened and coloured pages of an old book.

It's a lovely frame of mind that helps us see the beauty in things that aren't perfect and brand new. As a society, it's probably something we could do with more of.

The simple phrasing of nothing lasts, nothing is finished and nothing is perfect is from Wabi Sabi Simple by Richard Powell.

Wabi sabi

Not all of us can ditch jobs, families and responsibilities and choose to spend the next few months trekking across some tundra or cycling to China. Those are adventures sure, but, argues Alastair Humphreys, we don't need something of that scale to get a perspective-shifting snap out of the daily grind and connection with nature — we can try a microadventure instead.

A microadventure might be as simple as camping in the garden with your family, paddling down a local river and camping on the bank, or staying the night on a nearby hilltop under the stars, catching the sunrise with a wild swim to wake up and being back in time for breakfast.

The essence is that they are short, simple, local, and cheap. No fancy gear, complex planning, big budgets or long travel. An achievable adventure for normal people without giving up the rest of our lives to do it.

In this time when bigger trips are difficult it seems that people have been spending more time exploring locally and finding out the richness of the natural spots that are nearby. We could all use a microadventure from time-to-time. 

Microadventure

Ever since I came across Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi's concept of Flow it has stayed with me as a simple framework and beacon for finding joy, creativity, and total involvement with life.  

"What I 'discovered' was that happiness is not something that happens. It is not the result of good fortune or random chance. It is not something that money can buy or power command. It does not depend on outside events, but, rather, on how we interpret them. Happiness, in fact, is a condition that must be prepared for, cultivated, and defended privately by each person. People who learn to control inner experience will be able to determine the quality of their lives, which is as close as any of us come to being happy."

When researching happiness Csikszentmihalyi found that be they climbers, ballet dancers, chess players, or gardeners, people gave surprisingly similar descriptions to how they felt at their peak experience while performing an activity.

When in flow people are wholly focused on the present moment, they experience a strong sense of control, they lose their self-consciousness and their ego, their experience of time changes so that time can fly by or a moment can seem to slow down, and the joy of performing the activity becomes an end in itself.

Flow has a fairly simple set of conditions which I find myself using as a little mental checklist:

When climbing, a prototypical flow activity, it's clear that you are trying to get to the top, you can immediately see if you are making progress and whether an action progressed you or not, and it's wise to pick a wall that is difficult but not impossible, for you to enjoy it. No wonder climbing can be so addictive.

By contrast, it was evident to me that none of these were present when studying for my PhD.

I also like flow because it reminds me that peak happiness is unlikely to be experienced by sitting around watching the TV.

The quote is from, Flow, the psychology of happiness, by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi, who also taught me that any name can work to do great work.

Flow

Some simple wisdom from Kurt Vonnegut: notice when you’re happy.

“My uncle Alex Vonnegut, a Harvard-educated life insurance salesman who lived at 5033 North Pennsylvania Street, taught me something very important.

He said that when things were really going well, we should be sure to NOTICE it. He was talking about simple occasions, not great victories: maybe drinking lemonade on a hot afternoon in the shade, or smelling the aroma of a nearby bakery; or fishing, and not caring if we catch anything or not, or hearing somebody all alone playing a piano really well in the house next door.

Uncle Alex urged me to say this out loud during such epiphanies: “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is”

"So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

More on well-being? Here are 5 ways to wellbeing

If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is

A lot of us may have felt pressure at times to find our purpose — to find our one true cause, our personal mission, what we personally should be doing and where we fit in. I really liked this framework and approach from Priya Singh who suggests that we don’t have one singular ‘why’ — that our why may change often and it’s not a pot of gold or treasure to be found and that if we haven’t found it we’re failing.

She shares a framework of 3 types of work:

work that feeds you and those that depend on you

Any work you do may fit into one or more of these, but don’t fall into the trap of thinking that your work needs to overlap all three. We’re each capable of many different projects in our lives and work that fits into just one or two of these is plenty. Rather than aim for the trap of the one elusive dream job consider diversifying and satisfying each of these with different activities or at different times.

When presented with an opportunity or an idea, instead of asking why do it, try asking why not — practice not rejecting yourself before you’ve even started.

Framework and wise ideas: Priya Singh. Any misinterpretation or inaccuracy is due to me.

Find your why not

5 simple, evidence-based, ways to improve mental capital and mental wellbeing throughout life. Developed by the New Economics Foundation, the 5 ways to wellbeing are:

With the people around you. With family, friends, colleagues and neighbours. At home, work, school or in your local community. Think of these as the cornerstones of your life and invest time in developing them. Building these connections will support and enrich you every day.

Go for a walk or run. Step outside. Cycle. Play a game. Garden. Dance. Exercising makes you feel good. Most importantly, discover a physical activity you enjoy and that suits your level of mobility and fitness.

Be curious. Catch sight of the beautiful. Remark on the unusual. Notice the changing seasons. Savour the moment, whether you are walking to work, eating lunch or talking to friends. Be aware of the world around you and what you are feeling. Reflecting on your experiences will help you appreciate what matters to you. 

Try something new. Rediscover an old interest. Sign up for that course. Take on a different responsibility at work. Fix a bike. Learn to play an instrument or how to cook your favourite food. Set a challenge you will enjoy achieving. Learning new things will make you more confident as well as being fun. 

Do something nice for a friend, or a stranger. Thank someone. Smile. Volunteer your time. Join a community group. Look out, as well as in. Seeing yourself, and your happiness, linked to the wider community can be incredibly rewarding and creates connections with the people around you.

What Works Wellbeing has a neat post of how the UK compares to other European countries on the 5 ways to wellbeing and how they are affected by age, gender and other factors: 5 ways to wellbeing in the UK.

Curious? Evidence for the 5 ways from the New Economics Foundation (pdf).

Also, in doing this sketch, it’s quite clear that parks are awesome for wellbeing.

5 Ways to Wellbeing

Coined by Linda Stone, continuous partial attention describes the state many of us find ourselves in as we try to stay connected to all the different areas of life that are now possible — as a result we pay only partial attention to anything.

The accompanying stress or tension and, sometimes, decrease in relationship quality may contribute towards our increasing desire and awareness for the opposite: the wholly disconnected times of meditation, yoga, forest bathing, time in the outdoors, and other activities that allow us to give our full engaged attention for our wellbeing once more.

Continuous partial attention

Japan’s — if not the world’s — tidying guru, Marie Kondo, proposes this simple and rather beautiful criteria for deciding which of your possessions to keep and which to discard: does it spark joy?

If you follow this benchmark for which of your posessions to keep you will surround yourselves only with the things that you really treasure and that give you a small thrill of joy.

Does this spark joy?

Astronauts returning from space have repeatedly shared experiences like this:

“You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the moon, international politics look so petty.”— Edgar Mitchell, Apollo 14 astronaut

“When we look down at the earth from space, we see this amazing, indescribably beautiful planet. It looks like a living, breathing organism. But it also, at the same time, looks extremely fragile … Anybody else who’s ever gone to space says the same thing because it really is striking and it’s really sobering to see this paper-thin layer and to realize that that little paper-thin layer is all that protects every living thing on Earth from death, basically. From the harshness of space.”— Shuttle/ISS astronaut Ron Garan

The overview effect, coined by Frank White, is kind of the mother of seeing the forest for the trees. It’s the realisation that we live on a fragile planet, we are all connected, and this is all we’ve got.

The sketch is based on the image of earth from the moon taken on the Apollo 11 mission.

The overview effect

There’s something about being out in Nature for 3 days or more that resets us and improves our mood, our wellbeing, and how well our brain is working. Observed by river rafting guide Ken Sanders who used to see a marked change in the groups he led on the 3rd day of being out on the river, it’s known as the 3-day effect. Since then, David Strayer and his group at the University of Utah have conducted studies that measured a real change in our calmness and even our creative problem solving after 3 or more days in Nature.

“I think it takes the first two days and nights to wash away whatever veneer of civilization you have brought with you. The new reality begins on that third day.”

More about the 3 day effect at National Geograhic: This is your brain on Nature and REI: The Nature Fix.

No doubt similar things at work to the magic of forest bathing.

The 3-day effect

Tsundoku is the beautiful Japanese word for the acquiring and piling up of books without reading them. Constructed from 2 words loosely meaning piling up and reading.

The sketch is loosely based on my parents’ bedroom while I grew up, both of whom are experienced and talented tsundoku-ers/tsundokists.

Tsundoku

I love this term. From the Japanese shinrin-yoku, it means to soak in the atmosphere of a forest. And I think it’s not too far of an overstatement to say that a walk in Nature is about the closest to a miracle cure we have. There appear to be myriad benefits from simply spending time in Nature. As my sister put it, if it was a drug we’d be prescribing it.

Though we didn’t call it forest bathing at the time it’s definitely some of my happiest memories, like here, here, here, here, and here.

Forest bathing

People in the last year of a decade, say, 29, 39, 49, 59, are known as 9-enders — a term from Adam Alter and Hal Hershfield. While it could have been that one year is kind of like the next year, Adam and Hal propose that as we approach the end of a decade we are more likely to do a kind of meaning audit of our lives. And in the years just before the end of a decade, if we may have fallen short, or feel there’s something else we want to accomplish, we’re much more likely to do it then than in any other year of a decade.

In practice, as Dan Pink shared in his book When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing, these are, therefore, the times when we’re more likely to do something extreme like running a marathon for the first time and, sadly, also committing suicide.

Read more in Dan Pink’s Atlantic article: You’re Most Likely to Do Something Extreme Right Before You Turn 30, Dan Pink, The Atlantic

When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing, Dan Pink

People search for meaning when they approach a new decade in chronological age, PNAS, vol. 111 no. 48, Alter and Hershfield, 2014.

9-Enders

I can’t remember where I heard or read it, but I have found that when I think of a compliment as having a gift for someone, then not taking a moment to let them know, is like holding back a gift with someone’s name on it. This has made me take the time to share compliments more often with friends, colleagues, shopkeepers, that person who always has a cheery smile in the morning, the person who organised the event, my kids, my wife, and pretty much everyone. And life seems a better place. Do it!

Thank you for following. It’s a privilege.

Compliments are gifts

Young children have this wonderful and at times incredibly frustrating ability to completely ignore the past, even moments ago, and pay no heed whatsoever to the future. They're a fabulous lesson in living in the present. That they were miserable just now when someone took what they were playing with — doesn't matter any more. That playing in the puddle for longer means you'll miss the bus, and be late for lunch with friends — doesn't matter. All that matters is now.

I have a theory that as we grow older our circle of attention expands.

Sketchplanations tagged with wellbeing