Just breathe

The irony is not lost on me.

I am a communicator by trade. I spent years in corporate communication roles before striking out as a freelancer in 2000. My days are filled writing content intended to spur readers to think or do something in a particular way.

I don't know whether it's because of my background or in spite of it, but the most meaningful experience I've had in a long time is a recently completed workshop in Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction.

In 27 hours, over nine weeks, I learned a new kind of communication: engaging with my inner self as I focus on paying attention to the present moment, without judgment. Those concepts -- paying attention, present moment, without judgment -- come hard to a hardened communicator.

My work involves frequent interviews, during which time I split my attention between listening and deciding which follow-on questions are necessary to draw out the information needed for whatever I'm writing. I have to make quick judgments about whether or not I've gotten the right level of detail, so I don't waste the interviewee's time or my own. I also work on deadline, so my mind is always racing into the future. The tension is to complete Steps A, B, C, and D so I can deliver final copy by a certain date.

All those productivity skills I pride myself on have led to an active mind that makes it hard for me to relax and, sometimes, to fall asleep. I've become a "human doing" instead of a human being. So when the MBSR program came to my yoga studio, led by someone deeply committed to his own mindfulness practice in both meditation and movement, I was among the first to sign up.

Most of what we did was to sit. And breathe. Yes, I know. We all sit. And we all breathe. But few of us pay attention, on purpose, to our breathing in the present moment. And that seemingly small change isn't so small after all. It makes a huge difference in the ability to focus the mind when it wanders, as mine does again and again and again.

I've been breathing my whole life, but I've done so on autopilot. Now, post-workshop, I'm paying attention. I'm taking time each day for mindful meditation, using the breath to find focus. I walk away from each session with a greater sense of peace and well-being. At night, I use mindfulness techniques to help me fall asleep. And the mind-body connection is evident, with lower blood pressure readings being a welcome outcome.

There's not much to it. Just sit. And breathe. But I find this simple practice to be both deeply satisfying and always available, allowing me to communicate better, with more clarity. And to be truly present for whatever arises in my life.

 * * *

Links for more information:

• Jon Kabat-Zinn, developer of MBSR at the University of Massachusetts Medical School
• Center for Mindfulness, UMass Medical School
• Enso yoga studio

 

When negatives prove valuable

This story begins with a picture taken decades ago and ends this week, following a funeral, a mystery, and a mix of technologies. 

I was attending the funeral for a beloved aunt. While paying respects to the family, I glimpsed a photograph that looked familiar. It was taken in my parent’s home. By me. More than 30 years ago.

In the photo, my aunt and uncle were sitting together, looking happy and peaceful. But who was the woman at the end of the couch? This was one of the few photos of my aunt and uncle together at that time -- he died not too long after -- I was determined to find out what I could about the third party.

To unravel the mystery of an early 1980s color print, I snapped a picture of the framed photo with my smartphone and emailed it to several family members. A cousin confirmed it was taken at her bridal shower, and the unknown woman was from her father’s family.

I shared this information with the grieving family, glad to put a date, occasion, and name to the photo. Still, I wasn’t satisfied. I had taken the shot, so surely I must have more photos somewhere from that day.

I visited my photo archive, also known as the top shelf of a rarely used bedroom closet. I combed through boxes of photos, but couldn’t find anything. I flipped through pages of slides; still, no success.

Finally, I dragged down an overstuffed binder of negative sleeves and contact prints. Depending how young you are, that previous sentence probably made no sense. Let’s just say I went through my old photography paraphernalia and found exactly what I was looking for.

So now what? I really wanted my cousins to have a nice picture of their parents, just the two of them, without the unrelated woman crowding in. I pulled the negative and handed it to my husband, who's more tech savvy. I thought he could erase the third person from the couch through some software wizardry, but I’ve been watching too much CSI on TV.

He took an old-fashioned approach using much newer technology. Basically, he scanned the negative into PhotoShop, adjusted color and contrast, cropped in close on my aunt and uncle, and then saved it as a .JPG. I emailed the new version to family members and, if they wanted, they could get an actual print to replace the old framed one by sending it to anyone from Walgreens to Shutterfly to Mpix. 

Only later did I reflect on the technologies involved in bringing new life to an old photo, taken with a 35mm SLR camera. Again, depending on your age, you may not know the camera reference, but you could always look it up on your smartphone.

I had been tempted once or twice to throw away all my old negatives. I couldn’t imagine ever printing them again. Now I know they’re a valuable resource and a tether to my past. As for printing, well that has taken on new meaning when you can email images and have prints ready for pickup or arrive in the mail.

Once again I find new technology never really replaces old technology. Drawing on the strengths of each, you get the best of both worlds. In this case, a positive negative.

No quirks in owners manuals

My first car was a VW Squareback, with a very Zen stick shift. The shifter knob outlined four forward gears and reverse. The owners manual included a similar illustration, with additional tips that never mirrored reality.

There was no telling where second or third gear would be found on any given shift. The only way to drive this car was to get a feel for the general vicinity of each gear and then be playful.

My smartphone has similar quirks not found in the manual. It would have been helpful to read something like: “Place the phone down gently, or it will spontaneously reboot. If this is a problem, jam a piece of cardboard next to the battery to ensure a secure fit.” The troubleshooting section could be one sentence: “When something stops working, turn the phone off and on again.”

When my vacuum cleaner started to misbehave, I searched the online manual for instructions. I found the illustration for disassembling the lower plate to get to the beater brush, which the manual calls the “agitator.” What was more agitating than this brush was the sparse drawing overlaid with arrows in all directions. The few words of description were useless, and only after significant yanking and cursing did I find the tiny locking tabs that were the secret to success.

Other clues I wish were provided in owners manuals:

• To reset the low-tire-pressure gauge in my car, press the well-hidden button in the glove box.
• To restart my mother’s cable box after a service outage, hold the power button for five seconds.
• To restore service to my Internet radio, unplug and replug the power cord.

Simple solutions? Definitely. What made them difficult was finding the answers, which sometimes came from online chats, from calls to service departments, or trial-and-error approach.

I don’t envy technical writers who work on owners manuals. They don’t know much about their audience or how much their audience knows about their product. They don’t know which details to include or how detailed to make their answers.

One thing technical writers do know, and practice quite well, is to appease company lawyers and make sure any potential liability is clearly identified. Take this sentence from my car manual: “If you are in a collision in which airbags deploy, wash your hands and face with mild soap and water before eating.” Personally, I’ll go to the hospital first; I think my appetite would be ruined by the crash.

As much as I love to hate owners manuals, I like having one for reference. They may not tell me what I really need to know, and often offer too much unnecessary information, but you never know when they just might come in handy.

Now everyone is doing it

The Internet is like high school. Someone shows up with something shiny and new; pretty soon everyone wants or has the same thing.

Website design is showing just as much trend envy.

Splash pages used to be the big thing. Then flash animations. Now it’s the BIG PICTURE.

More and more websites spread a single photograph or graphic across the top half of the screen. There might be a few words, maybe a title and subhead in a large font. To find out more, you have to scroll down. Even then content is sparse, because, you know, people don’t like to read anymore.

Note to big-picture Web designers: Your pages are pretty. Your pages don’t tell me what I want to know. Ironically, the big picture approach doesn’t give me the big picture on content. A photograph isn’t always worth 1,000 words. Sometimes a photograph is just a photograph.

Granted, I’m a word person. Writing is what I do. Depending on the medium and the message, I tailor my approach for more or less content. Either way, content is key.

Words matter. People do like to read if it’s content they’re interested in, that engages them, that tells them what they need or want to know.

The first few big-picture websites I saw were intriguing in their novelty. And they were visually attractive, with beautifully done, professional photographs.

Now that more people are borrowing this design approach, using similar templates, the cracks are showing. The photos aren’t always so great; maybe they’re low-res or straight from a phone app. The content is sketchy. There’s no “there” there.

If I were just surfing the Internet for fun, these sites would be eye candy (at least the good ones would). But my surfing days are over; I click to find answers, information, content.

The good news is everything on the Internet seems to be a trend. I just can’t wait until the next one comes along.