Psychology development

We've all noticed how many suspects, accused of crimes ranging from theft to gross child neglect and all the way to homicide, blame addiction for their misdeeds. Their lawyers stress this in their pleas for mercy. Typical is this story from yesterday's Hartford Courant about a Connecticut police sergeant accused of stealing $19,000 from police-department youth programs to recoup some of the $240,000 that she lost in gambling sprees. According to a thirteen-page warrant, Michelle Wagner "stole $12,364.95 from the Police Explorers fund and $2,715.95 from child safety seat accounts by making ATM withdrawals" and "stole $3,240 from a Police Explorer gift-wrapping fundraiser." Judge Bradford Ward "ordered her to seek treatment for gambling addiction as determined by the bail commissioner's office."

In Psychology development You've probably had the experience of driving along a highway only
to suddenly realize you have no memory or awareness of the previous 15 minutes.
Maybe you even missed your exit. You just zoned out; you were somewhere else,
and it's as if you've suddenly woken up at the wheel. Or maybe it happens when
you're reading a book: "I know I just read that page, but I have no idea what it
said."

We all have pain in our lives, whether it's the ex we still long
for, the jackhammer snarling across the street, or the sudden wave of anxiety
when we get up to give a speech. If we let them, such irritants can distract us
from the enjoyment of life. Paradoxically, the obvious response—focusing on the
problem in order to combat and overcome it—often makes it worse, argues Stephen
Hayes, a psychologist at the University of Nevada.

The mind's natural tendency when faced with pain is to attempt to
avoid it—by trying to resist unpleasant thoughts, feelings, and sensations. When
we lose a love, for instance, we fight our feelings of heartbreak. As we get
older, we work feverishly to recapture our youth. When we're sitting in the
dentist's chair waiting for a painful root canal, we wish we were anywhere but
there. But in many cases, negative feelings and situations can't be avoided—and
resisting them only magnifies the pain.

Perhaps the most complete way of living in the moment is the state of total
absorption psychologists call flow. Flow occurs when you're so engrossed in a
task that you lose track of everything else around you. Flow embodies an
apparent paradox: How can you be living in the moment if you're not even aware
of the moment? The depth of engagement absorbs you powerfully, keeping attention
so focused that distractions cannot penetrate. You focus so intensely on what
you're doing that you're unaware of the passage of time. Hours can pass without
you noticing

Flow is an elusive state. As with romance or sleep, you can't just will yourself into it—all you can do is set the stage, creating the optimal conditions for it to occur.

Living consciously with alert interest has a powerful effect on interpersonal
life. Mindfulness actually inoculates people against aggressive impulses, say
Whitney Heppner and Michael Kernis of the University of Georgia. In a study they
conducted, each subject was told that other subjects were forming a group—and
taking a vote on whether she could join. Five minutes later, the experimenter
announced the results—either the subject had gotten the least number of votes
and been rejected or she'd been accepted. Beforehand, half the subjects had
undergone a mindfulness exercise in which each slowly ate a raisin, savoring its
taste and texture and focusing on each sensation.

In her memoir Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert writes about a friend who, whenever she sees a beautiful place, exclaims in a near panic, "It's so beautiful here! I want to come back here someday!" "It takes all my persuasive powers," writes Gilbert, "to try to convince her that she is already here."

Often, we're so trapped in thoughts of the future or the past that we forget to experience, let alone enjoy, what's happening right now. We sip coffee and think, "This is not as good as what I had last week." We eat a cookie and think, "I hope I don't run out of cookies."

Mindful people are happier, more exuberant, more empathetic, and more secure. They have higher self-esteem and are more accepting of their own weaknesses. Anchoring awareness in the here and now reduces the kinds of impulsivity and reactivity that underlie depression, binge eating, and attention problems. Mindful people can hear negative feedback without feeling threatened. They fight less with their romantic partners and are more accommodating and less defensive. As a result, mindful couples have more satisfying relationships.

Mindfulness is at the root of Buddhism, Taoism, and many Native-American traditions, not to mention yoga. It's why Thoreau went to Walden Pond; it's what Emerson and Whitman wrote about in their essays and poems.