A Brief Note on Analysis

I’ve written before about how the deliverable isn’t the work (although it is work) – getting to understanding is the work. So context is essential as we work through analysis.

So, uh. How do we do that?

For me getting there starts with inputs. What are all the things we need to take into account? Stakeholder thoughts, goals, feelings… sure. Our own lived experiences and professional experiences. Research on customers. Capabilities of the team we’re working with. The broader market and economy and trends. Analytics on site flows, click paths, and performance. Known, existing research on interactions and designs and flows and behaviors. We need to pull all of this together, as a team. That's a first step.

Critically, it is not the last step.

For example, “80% of people from March through May dropped off on this page” is not information – it is data. What makes this interesting? Is this number good? Is it bad? Who the hell knows? Sharing this directly, as is, in any kind of a final context is – from my perspective – incomplete. It is the job of the team to not only absorb this type of input but, critically, state what it means and provide enough detail for someone to take action on it.

That’s where the analysis comes in – inputs and context are essential to doing quality work. Chasing down “why” is foundational to understanding, and when conducting analysis, it’s something I implore my colleagues and teams to do.

In brief, I view analysis as taking data and turning it into usable information.

Notes from Repainting My Kitchen Cabinets

When we bought our house a few years ago, there were a number of style decisions made by the prior owners that we did not agree with. Almost all of them were cosmetic in nature: the entire first floor was painted in a pastel yellow with giant golden curtains; the master bedroom was neon green with beige carpets and a pale yellow popcorn ceiling; and the kitchen was oppressively, relentlessly brown. The “gourmet kitchen!” described in the listing was an exaggeration – the cabinets were original to the 1980 house, the flooring was old and tired, and things like the dishwasher and stove were on their last legs.

I replaced the dishwasher shortly after we moved in, and we got a new oven last year, but the big project we had in our heads that I finally got around to tackling over the 2019 holiday break was repainting the damn kitchen cabinets. Here’s the obligatory Pinteresty before-and-after.

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Project Outline

Keeping this relatively cheap was important. I did investigate a few options including replacing all of the doors and drawers with new ones, but that was cost-prohibitive for us (thousands of dollars). Plus, the cabinets were non-standard sizes because some… liberties… were taken. For example, one of the hanging cabinet boxes (in the far corner of the wall above) is a full 36” wide, but half of it is covered by another cabinet – so they hung another one-door cabinet next to that, and we have two doors that open to the left. Just little weird quirks like that, as with any house.

New hardware was a must. The hinges were something we ultimately did not replace – hinges are more expensive than you’d think. So other than a few hinges I chose to replace manually due to pure annoyance (at a cost of $6.50), we instead spray painted all of the worn brass color hinges with a metallic silver.

Similarly, we looked at many paint options. I wanted to minimize the amount of work and get the best looking results. I considered things like milk paint and the Rust-Oleum “all in one” box kits, but given the size of what I was tackling neither was quite a fit (nor cost-effective). On top of that, after looking at the doors themselves it was pretty clear I needed to do a full sanding, priming, and painting – skipping anything wasn’t an option. I went with Sherwin-Williams paint despite the cost over something like Behr (at Home Depot) because a) it’s not Home Depot and b) it has been good for my prior projects.

Lastly, small touches. Brown being the main theme meant that all of the outlets in the kitchen were brown with brown faceplates. I replaced all that ugly shit with simple white switches and outlets, and upgraded a couple to USB-A and USB-C ports too. All of the drawers had single round pull knobs – I took the time to change those out to actual handles versus that cheap crap. And there was a really questionable quarter round at the top of the cabinets, abutting the soffit – that came down and (as of this writing) will be replaced with something simple and clean.

I had planned on painting the toe kicks (which are a chocolate brown) but chose to just leave them because no one sees them.

All told, we had 27 doors and 13 drawers (nothing like odd numbers!) Start to finish, this took about 6 solid days spread over a week and a half due to the holidays. Our total cost was about $475, with half of that going to paint and primer followed by hardware (hardware is more expensive than you think.)

Lessons Learned

Instead of a Pinteresty step-by-step DIY post I wanted to share a number of things I learned in this process, which was only my second house project of this scale. (Prior was replacing wood paneling with drywall in a house we lived in years ago, but I had two friends really do about 90% of the work on that, so that doesn’t quite count.) For reference, I’m mildly handy – repainting and simple electrical is easy, as is simple plumbing, but things like a full on room revamp are out of scope for me.

Lesson 1: Will require more effort than you think, and will go over budget.

Don’t be fooled by endless blog posts that say this is a weekend project. It is not. Unless you’ve got, say, 6 cabinets total, this is a very long weekend or a week-long thing. In addition, buffer in overage for cost.

Lesson 2: Proper prep is a great idea, but I’m still concerned about the results.

Ultimately, not skipping steps was necessary. Fully sanding and then priming and then painting was something I simply needed to do. On nearly all surfaces I ended up having one or two coats of primer, and two coats of paint. The only thing I let through with one coat of paint was the windowsill – which was also in brown – because it was the very last thing I did and I frankly didn’t care at that point. It looked good enough.

The concern about the results is this: occasionally while working on painting, I found it trivially easy for me to nick through the paint and primer to see the original brown wood underneath. That suggests I didn’t prep the doors as well as I could have.

Similarly, for the drawers – which are pretty cheap – I only painted the faces, and left everything else in the original light brown. If I did this again, I would paint the entire front and back of the face. Not a huge deal to me.

The painting of the hinges worked pretty well, but their usage (they’re hinges!) means that some paint may go away over time. They’re still way better than the ugly brass.

Lastly: I would be way more aggressive with tracking down paint drips. There were some that made it through to the final product and while I notice them, most people won’t. (I’d say I did a B/B- job on handling the doors’ many bevels.)

Lesson 3: Drying takes forever.

I set up my garage as the working/staging area for all of this, and that was great. But drying took easily double the time I would have estimated.

Lesson 4: I need a yardstick and/or high-quality ruler.

I didn’t have one. I had a level with imprecise measurements and an old tape measure that was floppy. For the cabinet drawers I ended up using my trusty Field Notes notebook’s built-in ruler to get things precise.

Lesson 5: Label and number everything.

Before starting I numbered all cabinets. Hardware went into bags that were labeled appropriately. Outside of one minor mix-up at the very end when I was hanging doors, this was necessary.

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I then posted these on my garage wall and it was totally helpful and necessary.

Lesson 6: Drill holes for new hardware prior to sanding/prep.

As mentioned, the prior owners had single pull knobs on every drawer. I figured, “Oh, I’ll measure and drill holes for handles after everything is painted.” Nope! Bad idea. I did that once and then realized it was completely backwards. Drill new holes (and fill old ones) first – then do everything else. Speaking of which….

Lesson 7: Assume the prior owners did nothing right.

There I was, installing the final handle on the final drawer – one we used a lot. I held up the drawer for a final look and… huh. The handle wasn’t centered. Like, obviously not centered. The reason? The single pull – the one we lived with for 3 years – was also not centered! I was floored when I first caught this and measured it. Things were quite a bit off. I ended up refilling the holes and remounting the handle. (Hilariously, on the way to this post I caught another that had been the same way – but this drawer is already “done” and in the kitchen. It’s a touch-up project now because it’ll annoy me.)

Lesson 8: Have good equipment.

I did all of this work with a Purdy angled brush – all of it. I bought a couple of small foam rollers but those, frankly, sucked for this job. Also, plastic drop clothes suck for drying things – paint detaches from the plastic and sticks to the item. I chased after dozens of little paint specs and spots after things were “done”.

In Conclusion

All told, the end result is dramatic and completely worth it. Our kitchen looks fresh and so, so much brighter – it’s truly amazing.

Denial of Research

If you work in UX, it will happen to you. You'll face a situation where someone will give your research proposal a hard no. Even the small, "let's talk with a handful of people" idea you put together... no. Let's commiserate on why this happens.

We know what our users want

The most common rebuttal I've experienced is something along the lines of, "We already know what our users want" or "We know all our stakeholders. Just do this." And solely in my experience, this is almost always not true... but it can give you a firm hint of where someone's mindset is with research.

To that person, research may just mean focus groups: asking people their opinions for multiple hours, paying them money, spending a lot of time on it, and not seeing results. Or, it may mean focus groups that serve as the sole input for a project, above stakeholders and competitive analysis. In these cases, education on different research approaches is going to be a tough road but, again in my experience, is the best way to go.

Now, there have been cases where "We know what our users want" has led me to seeing a raft of research and analysis, too! And that's great. That gives me an opportunity to say, "Hey, there's a little gap here – let's talk about it" or "Yep, I agree with the findings." I value research because it continues to move design out of the realm of opinion, where people are arguing for The Thing They Like above all else.

Let's just use best practices

Fuck best practices.

Seriously.

"Best practices", in my experience, is a shortcut. It means, "I don't want to spend any time doing research." That's okay, maybe! It's totally okay. But what it suggests is a misunderstanding of what design offers: "You've done this 28 times before, so this should be easy. Just do what you did the other 28 times." I would augment that by saying, sure, I may have done this 28 times before... but I've never worked with you before. I want to figure out what's unique about you and your problem, truly. And if I can't uncover that, what I make might not fix a damn thing.

In these cases, there might not be much convincing. But talking through what "best practices" means is essential. If it really does mean "I don't have any time or money to spend", then come up with some ways to get that research and data that are cheap. If you can. If not, call it.

We know this one person, they know everything

Talking with one user and basing your decisions on that person's opinion is a bad idea. Calling it "user research" devalues that.

When this happens, it's often a variation on "we know our users". Often, there's one awesome subject matter expert (SME) a stakeholder pool knows, and they look to that person to be a proxy for users. Now, again, there absolutely are times and have been times when that person has been a proxy: they come with research, they suggest ideas on getting data they don't have, they act as solid partners.

The corollary to that, in my experience, is the person brought in for opinions only. It's a one-person focus group and because that person is so respected and known, it eliminates the worry for people. "We know this person, and they know everything, so we feel good about this." Making plans solely around this is risky as hell, because what if that person is wrong? What if they're bringing just opinions? What if they're... human?

These can be tough situations too. I still recommend listening to that SME, for sure, but framing it around additional research and context that can help get a better understanding of what you're looking to do.

How to convince someone that these are bad ideas

There's no way to do it. Sorry!

...

I kid. A bit. But here's what I've generally found to be helpful.

  1. Education. Some people respond better to this than others, and you'll need to find how to best communicate it all, but talking through the various types of research and what you get out of it – what the value is – can make a difference.
  2. Scale back your plans. Can't do a four-week IA exploration? Yeah, I hear you. Can you still do an online card sort to get some decent data? How about an in-person working session, or an on site day? Look for cheaper ways to get the most useful data, knowing that you're making sacrifices.
  3. Give it time. Let things play out. Bring up questions that naturally arise due to the lack of proper research. See how it fits in or impacts your work. Make suggestions along the way.
  4. Live with it. Not every thing you create will be perfect. Sorry. Perfect is the enemy of the good, and all that. Know and understand your personal standards on making quality shit, and make sure you're living up to that as much as possible on your project.

A Small Parallel

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Today I decided to spruce up my monthly Spotify playlists with custom art. The way I did it was pretty simple: I opened up Keynote, started with the type, and began to work with it.

It wasn't lost on me that this is how I used to start designing websites. Nearly exactly. I would start with the logo for phonezilla.net, or The Daily Ping, or fluffypillow, or theEngine* by going in to Corel Photo-Paint (I was stingy and also couldn't afford Photoshop until I got a student discount in art school) and selecting fonts and colors. It's not dissimilar to how font sites let you type in any phrase and see how it looks. That's how I started understanding it all, and that's how I started to visualize how my website could be.

It's funny because it's a very visual way of thinking, and I have shied away from that for quite some time. But this is a 20+ year old way of working and it's kind of nice to still have it there.

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* = At one point I thought I would separate my personal site, phonezilla.net, into at least two sites: phonezilla would be the home for more text-based stuff and theEngine would be where my photography, web exhibits, and other art would live. theEngine never quite came to fruition. Instead, that stuff continued to live in the Kreativ section of my site.

Let's check Twitter!

(I know I'll be tweeting this when I'm done, which makes it kind of entertaining. And, Anne Petersen's piece on their results from logging off for half a month prompted me to get this out of my head. Their piece is more thought-out than this, so you should go read that.)

Over the last few months and weeks especially I've been observing my usage of Twitter. (It dovetails with apps and the web in general but, Twitter is a leading example.) And no surprise, I'm a heavy user. But there are consequences with this: my time and attention.

It's funny because a few years back I had a friend who was really into their iPhone. I'd see them check it all the time – literally any free moment, the phone came out. It struck me as incredible; how could someone do that? I found that I slowly morphed into them. My free moments evaporated and were replaced with a check of a mention or the like.

I already made a few adjustments. I had stopped keeping Tweetbot open on my home and work Macs a while back, noticing that it meant a lot to make Twitter a deliberate action versus just another stream that was happening always. And I changed up my phone notifications a long time ago; it really is just for 3 avenues now and that's it. And a long time ago I figured out that treating email as an attention-shaming device (i.e., “Here's a message! RESPOND NOW OR THAT PERSON WILL THINK BADLY OF YOU”) wasn't working for me, and wasn't needed.

But to take it a step further, I realized in an email to a friend yesterday: why don't I treat Twitter the same way as I treat email?

  • With personal email, I work on it at the top and bottom of the day, and intermittently assess if there's anything important during the rest of the day (it's a pinned tab on my browser, but has no notifications and very little power for me);
  • I don't consider email to be a to do list, but when people like a Tweet or reply to it, I want to respond quickly and clear out any notification bubbles;
  • I fell into the trap of mistaking always-on availability for something else, a big sign for me of a lack of separation.

There are times when I am just in a groove with Twitter or email, but that's strictly coincidental: I'm replying back and forth with folks because that's my designated break to use the medium. Happens. Sometimes, I don't reply at all or keep up on things.

And, I wouldn't be lying if I said this was also due to the incredible stream of terrible news that Twitter affords a person: all the news, all the time, very few controls to manage it (even with a third-party client). It was simply too much for me to take in and process and sit with, and it made me constantly anxious.

So, trying it. Clustered, designated Twitter times. I also removed Tweetbot from my iPhone's dock and put it on the very last screen, sitting alongside all the stuff I really don't care about. Small changes. We'll see how they go.

Storytelling

Two days ago, I had the honor of speaking at SXSW 2015 with my good friend Elysse Zarek. It was my second time presenting there, and there really is no other conference like it.

After being intrigued with attending sessions from other tracks (Film or Music) last year, I had the opportunity to do so this year. I attended two from Film: one about telling great true stories, and only the 2nd screening ever (!) of the Mavis Staples documentary, Mavis!

The two sessions really played together well. I heard from journalists, writers, and filmmakers about their approach and craft. It was surprising to me to hear that they often will start their interviews and their work before finding the emotional core of the story. I would not have thought of that. I heard how different it is to take a story for radio (This American Life, specifically) and adapt it to film. Both of these things really got me thinking about design work.

In UX, we start with our structure. We talk with people, sketch things out, define an IA, maybe wireframe things up, and iterate, iterate, iterate. We listen, we record, we comb through transcripts. We start looking for the emerging patterns and... yes, the story. We then articulate that story by addressing it in design: interactions, flows, screens, products, what-have-you. It runs very parallel.

Similarly, there was discussion of the narrative. Subjects of interviews come in with their own narratives, often casting themselves as the hero or the villain. That gets shifted a bit, perhaps, because the filmmaker also has a narrative. She may find it aligns with the subject's narrative, or not. Finally, once something is out in the world, the audience has a narrative. Of course once it's out there, the subject may then directly engage with the audience!

It's a process that can be cyclical and messy but, again, it sounded like design to me. Users come in with their life story, their experiences, and their problems. We bring in our experience in this realm, and try to shape those things into... something. But once the product is out there, it's no longer ours, and we may try to improve it or change it, but it's up to others to use it as they see fit.

Fascinating stuff. It made me appreciate film for many reasons and also got me totally intrigued on how many other parallels there are between the mediums. I opined at the end of the evening that I wanted to make films. You never know.

Changing Bigger Patterns

In the past I've espoused the idea of focusing on the small things in your life in order to bring about design changes. They're the “microinteractions” of our lives, if you will. In my experience, that is arguably the easiest stuff to tackle. I'd rather focus on something like not drinking caffeine in the afternoon in order to improve my health, versus going all out and saying I'm going to eliminate all caffeine for three quarters of the year (ACK!)

That's one example, of course, and you may be at a place to do something bigger. That's when it's time to look not just at your goals – those things way up high – but larger patterns. They're at the “product design” level.

I've got to admit, I've been feeling a little bummed lately. I've been more irritable, I've been exercising less, and my attitude towards my body has shifted to a negative place right now. And when I've had only now in focus, it's felt new and singular. I've wondered, “Wow, how do I get through this?” A few days ago I found myself rifling through old journal entries; I was very curious about what I was writing and thinking a year ago. And do you know what I found?

Much of the same stuff.

I wrote about very, very similar feelings on very, very similar topics. It was a small but important aha! moment. It started to reveal something bigger: this is something that happened to me last year at around the same time. So, what caused that? I was curious about it, so I read some of my other entries from around that time. I found that I had worked through some of these things. It gave me comfort and assured me that it was something that Past Me had also confronted.

Now, though, I'm able to see that this is something that has happened two years straight – so I can address it if I choose to. I might take action on this, or I might leave my future self more clues – more information about how this moment feels, how this all is going right now. But having that information and knowing the scale of this pattern is really, really helpful for me.

The Size of It

When it comes to our daily lives, then, how can we tell what kind of pattern we're in? How do we know if this is something small, medium, large, or even larger? Here are a few pointers.

  1. First off, notice what you're doing. When you're in the middle of something – anything – and you notice it, also take that time to notice the way you're feeling about it. When I was writing my journal a few days ago, I felt very wrapped up in the emotions I was capturing but – and this was key – I was also curious about what had happened before. And I let that curiosity assist me.
     
  2. Drill down into the “why”. Now that you've observed something about yourself, to borrow research lingo, it's time to analyze it. You don't need to write a 50-page PowerPoint deck on it... unless you want to, of course... but be present in that moment, with those feelings. What's really happening? Ask yourself “why” multiple times. Be honest with yourself and you will find that the answers get bigger and bigger.
     
  3. If you want to change it, design it to scale. Of course, you have to choose to want to change the pattern. You don't have to. You can do it later, or not at all. But should you choose to change it, brainstorm and think about the actions that can lead to what you want. In my example, if I don't want to get into a self-care rut right around late January maybe I need to do multiple things in order to improve my attitude – and it wouldn't hurt to do them in advance of this time period, either. But one change that I see as small probably won't be enough. It's an experiment I'm willing to try.
     
  4. Keep tabs on it. Obviously, I'm a fan of journaling. But one of the actions I can take to help me keep tabs on it is to pop a reminder for myself into my calendar ahead of time. That's a way to get it out of my head and let me think about it later. And in the GTD bonus round, I'll just make a project in my Someday bucket (or schedule it for much later this year) so I can proactively take care of myself.
     
  5. Do it. The hardest part. I know I'll be scared, or be tempted to brush it off. But now I know from experience what brushing it off has felt like!

You wouldn't redesign a microinteraction with the intent of affecting change in the entire system. As in design, it's all about the scale of the challenge.

Untrusted System

It's kinda funny to admit, but one of the cornerstones of my Better Living Through Design talk is how flawed my brain is. It's a straight up blow to the ego, and it's humbling. It's almost embarrassing to admit it. But it is true.

And when it comes to Getting Things Done (GTD), the organizing system I've been interested in for a few years, my brain has fiercely held on. I first noticed it nearly two years ago, and have been feeling it ever since. I ended up in a place of quasi-GTD where some things were really, really handled well by my “trusted system” and others that remained in my head.

Within the past few weeks, I've had a change of heart. I am on the precipice of plunging right into GTD and truly implementing it. But I admit, I am afraid to do so.

Holding myself back

The biggest fear? Full on acknowledgement that I can't hold everything in my head. It's admitting, in a way, that my life is complex and complicated. It's admitting that I can't remember everything I need to do in the coming week, day, month, and so forth. It's an attachment to a way of being that is not... me. And wow, my brain is not a fan of that.

I've also been seduced by the marketing angle of all of it. GTD has felt like a Way of Life, in title case, and a big thing. That is both intriguing and repulsive to me.

Due in part to that perception, my mind then distracts me from the tasks at hand. It feels a lot more productive to reevaluate OmniFocus versus Things (my app of choice) again than just plunge in and organize my Things Inbox. And, in terms of the way I've handled GTD, the Inbox is where all of my loose to do items go. They require organization, clarification, and refinement – straight up work.

It's an IA problem

When I step back and look at the root of the problem, though, it's more about the IA (how I've organized my lists) than the UX (the tools and processes). There have been times when I've done the brain dump – getting all of those to-dos and items out of my head and into the Inbox – and nothing else. And I tell you, that alone feels good! Until I look at an Inbox with 75+ unsorted items. Then it's back to Overwhelming City.

GTD provides a system to organize these bits. It leans heavily on Next Actions: individual, physical actions that one can take to get closer to a particular outcome. Small tasks. Doable tasks. Then there are Projects, which sound daunting but are really a number of tasks grouped together. Some Projects and Next Actions go into a Someday bin, which means I care about them... but not necessarily right now. And there are Waiting items, those that are dependent on others.

On top of that, there are the concepts of Contexts and Areas of Responsibility. Contexts address where a task can be done (I surely can't change a light bulb in the kitchen when I'm at work), and the Areas of Responsibility live above Projects, addressing my bigger goals.

The system, as you can see, is carefully designed. There are processes and rules. I understand them. My brain gets it. But that fear? That is real. And it's coming from a place of concern that if I organize my entire life – setting aside the drama – then where will the spontaneity be? Where will the creative things be?

Yet, if GTD is reframed as not a thing to organize my entire life, but to organize the bits that crave to be organized... it's a tool, instead of a Way of Life. It's another thing I can use in order to clear up my head and get to the good stuff.

And so, in revisiting my post on GTD from April 2013, I feel I can end it with the exact same words.

So, I can say that thus far my experience with a trusted system has been fine - but I need to actually trust that trusted system first. Letting go is a big step.

Misalignment

What happens when our actions are misaligned with our intentions and our values?

Before I dive in, a brief aside. The way I started working on designing myself included (surprise!) a framework. I positioned it as three parts of my self: the drivers, the mind, and the body. Now that I've sat with this talk and philosophy for a while, I feel “drivers” could be updated to better account for the heart and the gut. These two parts are similar, but distinct.

My heart is a source of compassion and care. It is empathic. It focuses on feeling and emotion. My gut, in slight contrast, draws on my heart but also pulls on my experience, knowledge, and immediate, deep reactions to things. It's the part of me that “knows” if something is right or wrong, generally in the here and now; my heart is the part that knows how I will feel about that decision over time.

Got it? Great. Now then. Misalignment.

On a very cerebral level, misalignment occurs when your heart, gut, body, and mind are unable to make an idea, a concept, into something else. It may be due to attachment to a specific desired outcome. It may be due to fear. It may be due to anxiety. It might be all of these things.

Root cause analysis for my feelings

Lately, I've been quite misaligned: my mind has been in the driver's seat. Longtime readers and listeners know that for me, that's a common place to be; I've been seeking to actively change it over the past few years. But, as they say, old habits die hard and there is a comfort and familiarity when my mind is in charge that remains tough to resist.

When my mind is in the driver's seat I notice it in my body first. I've felt increasingly disconnected from it for the past few months. There's a lot less of the, “Wow! I can run a 5K!” type of feeling and more of the, “Huh, I don't feel much about my body” notion floating around my head. That's curious to me so I sit with these feelings and track them down. It's like a root cause analysis for my feelings, but way less analytical. I try to relax my inner critic and just listen. When it comes to matters of the body, the first thing I check is how my activity level has been. And I know that it's been low – I know it in my gut, and in my heart. I also check in and see how else I've been treating my body.

Once I've listened to what's going on, I quiet the desire to fix it immediately and consider how it all happened and how I feel about it all. That puts my mind at ease, and satisfies my curiosity... and also lets me address intentions: the things I know and feel in my heart and gut. In the case of low activity, it's a combo of (again) old habits and also new roadblocks I've put up in front of myself: I won't go out for a run today because... I'm getting used to a new schedule. I need time to adjust to all of these big life changes lately. And the classic, But there's so much other stuff to do on your to do list! Then, other parts of me pile on. It gets pretty noisy.

But bringing in the heart and the gut here is key. Because they know what's going on and they also know how I feel about the misalignment. They also help me realize that right now, it seems like my intentions and my actions are on two different planets. Because if I'm doing something or not doing something, and I can't connect it to something of importance to me, it becomes very difficult for me to proceed. I start to resist it. I fall back into old patterns and habits.

Are your habits valuable to you right now?

So, then, once a disconnection is identified and understood at some level, that's when I start to address it. This is tough because there's a reason I fell into the old habits, right? They're comfortable. They're known. They're valuable, for some reason. But I need to ask myself if they're valuable to me right now. And if they are, well, then that leads to further questioning. But if they are not – again, drawing on my intentions and my heart – it's like an action plan springs up before my very eyes. I start to feel like the parts of me that love to plan can start to do it. It gets more exciting.

That doesn't mean the changes are easy, and some are bigger than others for sure. But knowing why and how these habits return, understanding what they're doing for me, and ensuring they align with my intentions help me turn ideas into something more substantial – actions and plans.

 

Reconnecting with the Self

It was quiet in my car, except for the occasional whoosh of a passing car and the distant hum of a leaf blower. I was sitting, eyes closed, breathing in the driver's seat. And then, the silence was broken:

“Ommmm. Ommmm. Ommmm. Shanti, shanti, shanti.”

I surprised myself by saying that out loud. I opened my eyes and the world was still there. I was still there. I looked down at my phone and saw that I had another minute and a half left on the timer.

I promised myself five minutes. I gave myself three-and-a-half.

My mind has been fully in the driver's seat for the past month or so. I've been working hard on a lot of projects and efforts, and as I'm wont to do, I've detached myself from self-care. 

But in those moments in my car, I focused on just connecting with myself and letting my monkey mind go. Certainly, snippets of songs were flowing through my head. Things to do. But then I found a connection with myself. And it was hard to reconnect with that part, because it felt... kind of new again. My “should” parts showed up. “You should do this more often. You haven't been doing enough. You haven't been enough.” Then another part piled on, and saw this as a Huge Setback: one where I reverted to being more connected with my brain and my analytical mind than my body and my emotions – really, my self.

I saw that as a problem, and parts of me wanted to solve it immediately.

But.

What if, instead, I just... let the moment be, and give these feelings space to exist, and be, without judgment? The part of me that wants to fix things, that wants me to be a certain way, has a lot of power in me and it's been that way for a very long time. It floods my mind with “should” thinking. I should be doing this, I should be doing that. So what if I say, “No, it's cool, I've got this?”

Moving to a place without that judgment requires understanding, patience, and compassion.

I certainly understand why that part of me wants these activities and thoughts and words to be just so – it's because of a fear of being perceived as “weird.” Patience? I'm good at it with others, less so with myself. That comes from my long-seeded desire to please others, to get others' approval.

Compassion is the hardest. (I've certainly written about it before – here, and here – so this is not something unfamiliar to me.) In these moments, it's a lot easier to say something or type something than soak it in and believe it. Parts of me want those changes to happen instantly and get really impatient and restless when they don't. And in those moments, it's easier for me to come up with plans and schedules and tick things off of lists in lieu of just confronting those emotions, with compassion, and letting them know that everything is cool. So, I fall into schedules and plans and lists and what's ahead in my day.

But in those brief minutes I had with myself, that reconnection happened. Schedules faded away. Lists fell. Worrying about the future was absent. Thinking about the morning was gone. And I found the compassion to reach out to myself.

So when I heard that chant, when I said those words out loud, I was surprised – because I had found my self. And I had something to say.