When Time Disappears #042

Flow, Focus, and the Quiet Power of Attention

Have you ever been so immersed in something…a project, a drawing, a video game…that hours passed without you noticing? It’s way past bedtime, the lights are off, you haven’t eaten but you’re not hungry, you don’t even need the bathroom… you’re just there. Fully engaged. As if time had quietly slipped out of the room.

Well, that happens to me usually when I’m writing SiMPL.

I start after work around 6pm, right after I give Ozzy his dinner. I usually take some time to eat around 7pm, and then, depending on the mood, I either come back to write… or I move to something else…play guitar, go out for some beers with friends, read a book, or just watch something on Netflix.

But sometimes, Mafer comes back from her dance lessons and asks, are you still at it? Or it’s Ozzy who reminds me what time it is. He scratches my foot and wags his tail like he’s trying to say, hey, time to go out and pee. The home office is dark, my water bottle’s empty, and that’s when I realize… I’ve been sitting there for hours, fully absorbed, working on something.

That, my friends, is what we call flow.

How a Simple Question Sparked a Chain Reaction

If you’re a usual reader, you probably know I’ve been working on a project that started with a question:

Are the people closest to me…my family, my friends…aware of how much social media influences their decisions?

That question pulled a thread that led me into decision-making, intuition, and influence. I thought that maybe if I could show people how influence works, they’d pause, notice it, and maybe make more intentional choices.

But the more I explored, the more I saw it’s not just about social media. It’s about how we react to influence in general. Sometimes we’re aware of it, sometimes not.

I started mapping this out, and something unexpected happened. When people looked at the drawing, or helped build it, their reactions showed more than their words. What they noticed, skipped, or questioned revealed their filters. That opened up a whole new layer.

How One Craving Turned Into a Map

Last week, I shared how “one random craving at age 10 set off a chain of decisions,” and in the process, I started sketching a new way to look at how decisions unfold. That drawing became a kind of map…one I’m still refining.

It kept evolving through conversations, by showing it, by walking others through it… and each time, it got a little clearer, a little simpler.

And as the drawing evolved, so did the question. Here’s where I landed:

How might we move from a system that promotes a storm of unfiltered influence, to a system that builds the inner tools to recognize influence and move with greater intention?"

That’s where I’m heading now.

And in that discovery, something else came up… I realized that while influence explains how we drift, it doesn’t always explain how we re-engage. That’s where the concept of flow really started to matter to me.

What Preaching Misses, and Practice Teaches

As I explored rituals as a tool for change, I found myself listening to Alan Watts. In one of his talks on contemplative ritual, he explains why preaching often fails to promote creativity. Why? Because preaching, especially when rooted in guilt, shuts down curiosity.

He jokes that a preacher often ends up telling God what to do, as if God takes orders, and then turns to the congregation to tell them what to do, as if they’ll just obey.

“You cannot love and feel guilty at the same time,” he says.

That stuck with me.

Telling people what to do doesn’t spark change. So what does? That brought me back to something I’ve experienced firsthand…maybe the answer is in practice.

When I’m learning a new song on guitar, I don’t say “play like Jimi Hendrix” and just expect it to happen. It’s slow progress, repetition, small movements in no straight line.

That is the path to flow.

But before you get there, you need balance.

Here’s the trick, flow only happens when there’s balance.

A balance between your skill level and the challenge in front of you.

If it’s too hard, you’ll get frustrated. If it’s too easy, you’ll get distracted.

I see it all the time. In work, in side projects, with teams I’ve led, especially with newer generations. The more people binge, the less mindful they seem. The easier it is to get frustrated.

When everything else comes in one click…food, movies, groceries—why shouldn’t progress be instant too? One try, one post, one day at the gym, and they want perfection.

They’re told that life should always be polished. Food must look perfect. Workouts must look easy. Emotions should be dramatic, and clothes always stylish. Show the outcome, not the effort.

Jimmy and the Myth of Instant Success

Now picture a twenty-something…let’s call him Jimmy—trying to learn guitar for the first time.

He skips the music store and heads straight online. Orders the flashiest guitar, the exact amp his favorite TikToker uses, and a bag of premium picks because—well, aesthetics.

The gear arrives. He unboxes it all with cinematic flair. Photos. Reels. A moody shot with the guitar on his lap. Then he plugs it in, cranks the volume, and says:

“Time to play Master of Puppets!”

He pulls up a YouTube tutorial, gives it a go. It doesn’t sound right. Tries again. Still off.

Then, mid-frustration, an ad pops up:

“Play like a pro in five days. No one wants to tell you this secret…”

Jimmy clicks. Pays. Takes the course. Day five arrives.

He plugs in again, breathes deep, and—

Buzz. Fret noise. Angry amp. Nothing like Metallica.

His fingers cramp. The strings rattle. And the magic? Still MIA.

So he quits.

He didn’t ask if Master of Puppets was a good first song.

He didn’t wonder if starting with Smoke on the Water—two fingers, four notes, and a little patience—might’ve been a better idea.

He didn’t think to ask if guitars need setup: neck aligned, strings adjusted, truss rod tweaked. He just plugged it in and expected it to sing.

He didn’t ask how long it takes. That it’s hours, weeks, months of slow, messy repetition.

He didn’t ask if maybe finding a teacher, joining a music school, or just showing up every week would help.

That’s what Jimmy missed. This wasn’t just a lesson in guitar—it was a reminder of how progress actually happens. You don’t get better by chasing hacks or shortcuts. You grow when you start from where you are, do the work, and stay with it long enough to build something real. Flow doesn’t come from perfection. It shows up when you’re engaged, when the challenge fits, and your attention is all in.

That’s where progress happens. That’s how flow finds you.

Same thing with writing, coding, lifting weights, even cooking. You need just enough difficulty to keep you engaged, but not so much that it breaks you.

It’s that sweet spot where your brain clicks in, time disappears, and suddenly Ozzy’s asking to go outside again.

The Opposite of Flow Isn’t Failure

You see, sometimes we feel like we’re not exactly sad, but we’re not excited either. Not really burned out, but definitely not energized. Maybe we’re still doing what we need to do…showing up, replying to messages, eating lunch…but there’s no spark in it. No momentum.

It’s not depression, no, it doesn’t feel that heavy… but it’s also not joy, not purpose, not even boredom. It’s something in between.

Well, that, my friends, is something psychologists call languishing.

Not Sad, Not Happy, Just… There

When you’re languishing… even if you notice it, even if you name it, it’s hard to get out.

But there are small signs you can catch. One of them? Bingeing.

Are you just swiping through reels or TikToks? Watching Netflix, Disney+, or whatever streaming service, episode after episode? That’s bingeing.

And in this context, bingeing isn’t just about watching too much…it’s passive engagement in a non-fictional world. You’re living through others. Through the people in those shows, the influencers on your feed. You start easing out of your own reality, and begin depending on their stories for little hits of emotion, motivation, or distraction.

It’s like you’re watching life from a window, trapped.

Might be time to revisit Rapunzel… or better yet, Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.

Long before social media feeds or binge-worthy streaming platforms, we were already fascinated by the idea of watching life from a distance. Fiction gave us characters stuck behind windows, trapped in towers, or transformed into something that couldn’t fully participate in the world anymore. Those stories hit a nerve—because deep down, most of us have felt that way. Like we’re just observers.

In Rapunzel, it’s a literal tower.

In The Metamorphosis, it’s Gregor Samsa, shut away in his room, unseen and slowly forgotten.

In both cases, the character loses connection to others. They lose agency.

They see life continue around them, but they’re no longer part of it.

Today, the tower looks like your phone screen. The room is your endless scroll. We haven’t changed, only the medium has evolved.

Because here’s the thing, every powerful story takes time to build. Whether it’s a superhero origin, a romantic payoff, or a thriller’s big twist… there’s always a build-up.

Ethan Hunt didn’t become a super agent overnight.

Tony Stark didn’t master the arc reactor on day one.

Michael Jordan didn’t make every shot in high school.

And my grandmother’s flan?

That probably took years to perfect.

Growth has a pace. And flow rides on that rhythm.

It’s the opposite of bingeing.

Because flow isn’t passive. It’s practiced.

Flow Takes Practice, But It’s the Good Kind

Bingeing is passive. Scrolling, watching, easing into someone else’s story.

Flow is different. It’s active, focused, and grounded in something real.

Whether it’s learning a song on guitar, lifting a little heavier at the gym, or writing through the night, flow asks you to show up and get involved.

You don’t get there instantly. You don’t just pick up a guitar and play like Sinister Gates. You start with repetition, with feedback, with noticing small improvements. And over time, you get better. Slowly. Then all at once.

Because when something matters to you, when it pulls your attention and asks you to bring your full self…that’s where peak flow lives.

Flow Isn’t Just About Challenge. It’s Also About Meaning.

Adam Grant, in his TED Talk on flow, adds that for peak flow to really happen, it’s not just about balancing difficulty and skill. There are three conditions that tend to show up again and again:

Mastery – When you feel like you’re making progress. That leads to stronger motivation, builds momentum, and gives you small wins that keep you going.

Mindfulness – When your full attention is on a single task. But in real life? That’s rare. Most of us check email 77 times a day or switch tasks every 10 minutes. Flow demands better boundaries… and space to stay uninterrupted.

Mattering – When you feel like what you’re doing matters. Not in a big philosophical way, just… who would be worse off if I didn’t do this? For Adam, this meant thinking about people who rely on him. For some of us, it might just mean keeping our people close.

You don’t need all three in perfect balance every time. But when you hit two out of three, you’re probably closer to flow than you think.

One Last Thing Before You Scroll Again

Maybe you’ve felt it recently, maybe not.

Maybe your version of flow doesn’t look like writing or guitar…maybe it’s gardening, baking, organizing your bookshelf, teaching your kid something new. Doesn’t matter.

The point is, when you feel it… you know.

So next time you notice yourself slipping into that scrolling fog, ask yourself...

What’s something small I could do right now that matters to me, even just a little?

You don’t need to find purpose. Just maybe… avoid the drift.

Start with one task, full attention, no guilt, no pressure.

You might just surprise yourself.

So, How Do I Actually Get Into Flow?

Let’s go back to the examples I’ve been sharing.

When I’m writing for SiMPL, it usually starts way before I sit down to type. I gather thoughts from something I’ve read, or a podcast I listened to, maybe a TED talk or just something that happened during the week. Then I take my iPad, open up Notes or Freeform, and start mumbling words, drawing arrows, scribbling ideas, trying to create some kind of structure. No pressure, just starting to see the shape of it.

Once there’s enough there, I move to my computer. That’s when it starts to click. I begin typing, Googling things, asking GPT for more data or better phrasing, switching back and forth between notes and writing. Sometimes I play instrumental music…usually jazz or something with no lyrics…just to keep the energy going without distraction.

Now, guitar is a different flow.

With guitar, I always start with a warm-up. Repeating shapes or patterns I know, slowly, with a metronome, just to get both hands moving. I’m syncing my left and right hand, adjusting tempo, loosening up. That’s how I drop into it. Then, once I feel ready, I move into learning. Maybe a new riff or a tricky solo section I’ve been working on. Bit by bit. Not chasing perfection—just aiming for progress.

That’s how I get there.

Start slow, find rhythm, and once it clicks… lean in.

Your Turn

Now tell me:

When do you feel like you’re in flow?

What does it feel like for you?

How do you usually get there?

Or maybe you’re on the other side of it… and you’re starting to wonder if what you’re feeling is actually languishing.

If that’s the case, please don’t keep it to yourself. I’m not a mental health professional…that should always be your first stop…but if you choose to share, it might help someone else who’s feeling the same way.

And who knows… maybe together, we’ll figure out if the stories, tools, or ideas in this newsletter made a difference.

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