Tynan, a fellow longhorn, once shared an interesting story on his site. He was at cruising altitude, eating the provided in flight meal compete with fish, vegetables, and other edibles. However, also included in this meal was chocolate pudding. Now Tynan has talked extensively about his commitment to eating well. For years he was a vegan paying hundreds of dollars while traveling to eat fresh, wholesome meals. He didn’t want to eat the cup of chocolate pudding, but the cup sitting right there on the tray in front of him proved tempting to some part of himself.

Instead of letting the tempted, rationalizing voice in his head continue to work on his own resolve, Tynan simply picked up the provided bags of salt and pepper and dumped them on top of the pudding. He went so far as to mush pieces of trash into the container. In one split second the pudding went from tempting to disgusting. He had no more desire to eat the pudding and no nagging left to deal with. In other words, one moment of willpower saved him from needing to maintain willpower over a long stretch of time.

At the end of his post he suggests that there are many other arenas in which we can apply the same principle, so I’ve spent about two years deploying this tactic. [Read more…]

Last week I introduced several ideas for how teachers can protect the deep work at the core of their professional lives.

I shared that my deep work happens daily in violin practice, lessons with students, weekly deep writing sessions, and a deep thinking and planning session at the beginning of each semester. My routines for scheduling and doing that work is clear in my mind. And because deep work profoundly increases my ability to provide value, most around me are directly or indirectly supportive of the deep work that I do.

Knowing that the deep work I did with violin, running, and academics growing has shaped the person I am today, I think critically about how to coach students and parents to do work in that mode. Through parent conferences, practice, and a regular reiteration of one is important to me, I think my students cultivate an understanding of deep work that many of their peers don’t have the chance to. [Read more…]

Over the next few weeks I’ll be exploring the way a philosophy on deep work guides my life. Today I want to take a close look at the particulars of the deep work I do, the way I do it, and how I train students and parents to do the same.

MY FRONTIERS OF DEEP WORK

After understanding the distinction between deep and shallow types of work I found myself relieved. Finally I could separate in my mind the most important things I do (improving in violin, running a business, learning) and the trivial things I do (airing up my bike tire, filing taxes, sending emails). All of my work is necessary, but I learned I didn’t have to manage all of my work in the same way.

Next week you will hear about how I take care of the minutia that fringes a life of deep work (details like flat tires and an email inbox), but first I need to explain what I acknowledge as the core of my work.

Cal Newport in his book DEEP WORK defines deep work as…

professional activities performed in a state of distraction free concentration that push your cognitive capabilities to their limit. These efforts create new value, improve your skill, and are hard to replicate.”

By that definition, I identify three frontiers of deep work in my life.

[Read more…]

The meetings that Mary Oliver suggested and I discussed last week are ones that I am familiar with, but needed to be reminded of.

I am lucky to have come to know those meetings of the conscious and cautious selves as a grew up. My parents led me (and perhaps I was drawn to) activities that required focus, and risk, and challenge.

Day after day my mom and I would meet the violin head on, working patiently without distraction. I gave my entire self out on countless rugged cross country courses when the pain felt unbearable, but also liberating. I came to know my selves in preparing my first few research papers and *real* tests in high school. As I started meditating in college I felt that marriage of conscience with a higher, nobler self.

I’ve had the fortune to understand the connection, and the power of connection, of my selves to my work that comes in seriousness and in stillness. I understood it physically, kinesthetically, emotionally, and perhaps even mentally. But not intellectually.

I didn’t have the words to name the power of this connection until I read Joshua Waitzkin’s incredible book The Art of Learning: A Journey in the Pursuit of Excellence.

[Read more…]