The One Way to Discover Your Truest Self
Biology, conditioning, and social pressure all play roles in our habits of mind. Fifty thousand years ago, when we were cavewomen on the savanna, we had to simultaneously tend the fire, watch the kids, chase monkeys out of the garden, and cook meals. Men, on the other hand, had to hunt, period.
By now our way of thinking has become so deeply ingrained that I suspect women's brains have more mental pathways than men's. Plus, we're expected to be people oriented, aware of those around us. Csikszentmihalyi says women have an easier time moving into pleasurable activities that let us multitask and be relational. Around the world, weaving and needlework are popular women's activities because they can be done in a group and serve a utilitarian purpose.
But as I continued my survey, I found many women who had figured out their own style of cultivating pleasure. Lynn gets up at 6 A.M. to knit and listen to classical music before her daughter is out of bed. Lisa runs marathons on the weekends for the sheer exhilaration of it. Beth takes piano lessons for what she calls the liftoff. And, I realized, pleasure is the real reason I practice yoga. The need for exercise and stress relief got me to sign up for the class, but I returned again and again for something I hadn't even let myself know about. During class, the big "I" disappears—the me who measures her body against the other women's, the me who worries about her $2,500 credit card debt, the married me, the female me.
The ego evaporates; the biography society writes for us disappears. What is left? It's hard to explain, but it feels like my truest self, the "I" who could dance with the angels.
There are plenty of other ways to lose yourself. Shopping and Chardonnay are two of my former paths—but the "me" who takes over when I indulge isn't someone that I'm proud of. In fact, it's usually someone I'd like to strangle when I come back to earth.
Unfortunately, society makes it a whole lot easier to go wild with a charge card or to throw down a few glasses of wine than to start painting, meditating, or doing yoga. Acquisition and speed are highly valued in our culture, and we expect our activities to have a clear purpose.
The rule that we must be accomplishing something all the time is broadcast so efficiently and so early that we internalize it. Every flow-seeker I interviewed struggles with a seditious inner voice. "This is ridiculous. I'm way too old to learn this," Beth tells herself when she sits down at the piano. My yoga class starts with the crow on my shoulder screaming, "You haven't done half the stuff you were supposed to today!"
You have to face the crows before you can transit to a place of pleasure. It gets easier, over time, to make that journey. But you may sometimes think, Why bother? For Csikszentmihalyi, the point is to enjoy life to the fullest. "If you are rich but can't enjoy life, then you have nothing," he says.
Beth says she loves to connect with something as beautiful, emotional, and ancient as music; Lynn says she knits to stay sane. We have different reasons for seeking flow, and we go to different places, private places. What fascinates me are the choices. No self-help book, e-retailer, or bossy sister can tell you what will give you pleasure. To find it, you have to divine yourself, listen for a particular note or be alert to a gentle itch of interest, then follow it through the maw of negative voices. And when you've gotten there, what you've found probably speaks profoundly to who you really are. That person is worth getting to know.
Find What Makes You Happy