Do One Thing

Mono task—this was Markus Almond’s advice and I followed it with a pen and a blank paper.

The ink as it first touches the inviting white space was revealing. Thought coming to life. The fluidity of our hands and minds working in confluence—laser-focused on a single task, putting every stroke, letter, word, thoughts—was amusing.

Most days are usually mundane, mechanical even. Our bodies are built for habits, automatically making us get up, eat, work and snooze. Perhaps we have chips inside us designed to keep doing essentially a variation of the same things. Unwrapping novelty, a little bit of a difference, progress, require an intentional muscle.

At that particular point, catching myself feel, curiously prying into my consciousness, taking it apart, I felt I’ve put a finger on something tangible and freeing—my breath, the coldness, the idle bright screen, the windows brightly lit, my sweaty palms, the solidity of the table against my pulse. Mundane details, defined.

Immersing myself like taking every nanosecond of onerous details of a plain event has stretched the time, if only for a short burst of moment. The fleetingness only made it special.

And the moment, indeed, need not be grand. It can as simple as sitting still, but being curious about it, slowing down, and doing one thing (or doing nothing at all) is what will spear us back to calm and, eventually, to clarity.

No destinations. No deadlines. Only the present moment.

It’s only sitting, dissecting the sensation, wondering and appreciating the cellularity of one action.