Rhythms of Focus

The anxiety of a task taking too long, a project starting too late, or the loud silence of an undone to-do list can be incredibly overwhelming. This is particularly true for those of us with ADHD, wandering minds, and the like.
But what if the clock on the wall isn't the only conductor we should be setting our rhythms to? This week, we explore listening to the three foundational rhythms living within ourselves, and reflect on how the anchoring technique can prove useful across them all.

Transcript
The clock. The tick tocks of the clock.
Be there at eight. Be done by three. How long will this go? Why can't I know how long this will take? Do I have time blindness?
What if this so-called time blindness is less about being unaware and more that our own experience of time takes prominence? So much of our modern society runs on these external measures of time.
Of course, it does. We have to share our existence. We have to meet in places, present our deliverables. But how much gets lost when we ignore our own experience of time?
The time within ourselves
While the clock does its thing, measuring our days by the seconds and the hours, I wonder if we do ourselves a disservice losing sight of the time within ourselves. The afternoon, the evening, the time before lunch, the walk from here to there, the time to remember a song, the time of being.
Considering our own time isn't a selfish act, it's an act of self-reflection, and when we do it, we start to guide ourselves and gauge better, and sometimes even sync with the world's clocks better if we decide to.
I find three foundational rhythms that I want to call attention to. One is the breath, second is the session, and the third is the day.
Each of these are foundational because they rest in our experience.

The breath
So first, the breath. It's useful as a measure for a pause. When we can pause, which may be the most difficult of all the productivity exercises there are, we reach a higher state of agency. Agency is this skill of deciding and engaging non-reactively
It's where we can make our decisions with our greatest sense of meaning. When we can pause, we're able to connect with those things that resonate with us more deeply. That connects with what we care for, how we play, which in turn help us guide our moments, our days into mastery and meaningful work.
The session
A second foundational fundamental rhythm of time is the session. This is the time in which our attention aligns with some intention, even if our intention is just to think about something for a moment. Every time we align our attention with an intention, we create a wave of focus. It might be disrupted, it might be rough, it might be smooth, but each one of these waves has a beginning, middle, and end.
The most experiential way to practice this is to recognize the power of a visit. You know, listen to episode four for a deeper dive on it. But for here and now, the idea is that we approach, we reach this edge of action. We pause at some work in front of us to feel whatever is at risk, whatever we are feeling we might lose, or whatever frustration is there.
We expose ourselves to the emotions of the work and hear what they have to say. And then as needed, we can mount the bravery and care that it takes to engage. At any time beyond, we can let go, whether it's done or not.
A second, a minute, an hour, these have no feeling. But an experienced time, the moment of a breath and its pause, the flow of a thought and action in their own times, those we can pay attention to.
We can feel the beginnings, the middles, and the ends. The beginning is where we approach. It's where we can get thrown off, how emotion might have us avoid something, how we might inadvertently defend against something. The middle, while we're in it, we might feel confused, overwhelmed, bored, angry, anxious.
We could feel excited, excited about something else entirely, and the daydreams that pull us out. And then there's the ending, the transition out. Whether we're done or not, that dreaded hyperfocus or exhaustion or just dropping it and discovering later, "Oh, I didn't finish that." Or maybe the rare, "Oh, I'm done."
Across all three, anchoring can always help. Check out episode fifty-seven for a deeper dive there. But for now, know that you can always grab a pen and paper and write down the thoughts that are on your mind and decide which one you wanna be with. Anchoring itself becomes this moment in time.
The day
And then there's the third, which is the day.
Many of us keep some form of daily to-do list. We think about our habits. We wake up, hopefully every day, until one day we don't. Which, on reflection, points to a fourth cycle, the life itself, momentary or a hundred years, or either way, a single unit. But I guess that's tangent to these three. Back to the day.
If we can visit something and not finish it, that idea that we can step away before it's done and still want to come back, well then, what do we do? We can invite our future self into the next day. Hey, future you, somewhere between waking and sleeping, can you make a visit to this?
That person now has the whole cycle of the day to honor that self who sent the invitation, to then mount the courage to pay the visit, to expose themselves to the emotions of the work, and to make their own decision.
Maybe even to extend yet another invitation to that next future you down the line. Using the experienced time of the day, we practice building a trust with ourselves, a sense that something will keep doing what it's been doing so we can rely on it. In this case, ourselves. Meanwhile, we distance ourselves from alarms artificially bolted onto the mechanical clock, designed to interrupt us wherever we are.
Alarms do their job. They disrupt whatever wave we're in. But that's irritating, and I like to avoid it when I can.
So that rhythm that we return to something perhaps every day can become a current, a stream, this river of trust that's formed of three parts: the honor for the self who gave us the invitation by showing up to it; the respect for the present self by deciding from that deep breath, from that place of, "I've been here"; and the care for our future selves by asking them to return tomorrow for another invitation if we want to.
These are three fundamental cycles: the breath, the session, the day. We all share them, ADHD or not, neurodivergent or neurotypical. It's just that for some of us, they run choppy and hard to navigate, and sometimes our zoomed-in view makes the waves loom so large we lose sight of everything else. But that's another story.
The takeaway
Meanwhile, as a takeaway, may be that somehow you're feeling time blind. May be that your time hasn't yet found some harmony with the hands of a clock.
But what if there's some way to begin practicing that harmony? What if you picked up one thing and invited your future self to visit it sometime tomorrow, sometime between waking and sleeping? It's not something you'd have to finish. You don't even have to do anything once you're there. That single deep breath counts.
May not be easy, but there is a simplicity to it. And if you can do that, and then do it again, well, now you've got two beats. And in two beats, you have a rhythm.
Music — Feet on Pebbles in Water
Music's an art form whose very medium is time. And you may notice that it too doesn't necessarily connect with a clock. While there is a metronome, there's other ways of ar-arranging notes to, to music.
Chopin's tempo rubato, this expanding and shrinking of, of the, time and the speed of the way, we play the notes, translates literally as "stolen time."
When I play a series of quarter notes, then a series of half notes, I can tell something's shifted. It doesn't just feel longer, it feels larger, grander. And if I shift to whole notes, it can feel larger still. Yet the quarter notes and the half notes that came before simply are.
There's a relativity of time. It's not just one against the other. It seems to give time its very definition, the experience of time itself. The piece I play in this week's episode is called Feet on Pebbles in Water, and I hope you enjoy it.
Mentioned in this episode:
Waves of Focus YouTube Series
Look out for new episodes of the new Waves of Focus YouTube series here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJpQS5q6yvRw

As someone with ADHD or a wandering mind, you may have been told to keep a scratchpad on you at all times. It's a great way of capturing our thoughts in the moment so they don't flutter away as our minds are want to do.
But, a scratchpad on its own doesn't always spur us into action. And in some cases, it can turn into the thing we avoid at all costs, serving as a reminder of many things that have been left undone.
So how to we move past the scratchpad phase and turn into a powerful tool that is helpful? This week we walk through the different layers of the anchor technique. It's a tool that has worked very well for my students and for myself when feeling scattered. It's one that can be used in conjunction with other tools and often makes them more helpful.
We close with a new take on a composition I've played here before, Caregiver, in C minor.
Transcript
What do we actually do with a scratchpad? There are various ADHD talking heads out there who tell us, "Keep paper on the desk, in the car, by the bed, on your person. Capture whatever's loose. Get it out of your head."
Good advice. But you've likely noticed writing things down doesn't make them done. Sometimes it just builds the pile higher. The list itself can become something we dread. So what's the difference between a scratchpad that helps us and one that haunts us?
Again and again, students have told me how they find the anchor technique to be a powerful way of engaging work and life in general, whether they're scattered, exhausted, even when they are focused and they're just trying to figure out a way to be even more so.
Whatever system they build or use, whatever productivity method or app they try, they bring this anchoring technique with them. And I've explained it in some detail in episode sixty-two if you wanna have a listen there.
But what about it works? Isn't it just using a scratchpad? Well, this is similar to asking, "Isn't meditation just about focusing on one thing?" Well, eh, kinda, maybe, some ways, yes. But it also misses the entire point.
Mindfulness, reconsidered
We engage a type of mindfulness. The trouble, I think, is in that word, mindfulness. I, I don't know about you, but the word tends to make me feel a bit of the ick. I think it's been kind of mauled by the marketing machinery of, of everything. It's so amorphous, so soft and squishy. Aren't we mindful all the time?
And even if I were to suddenly be mindful somehow, whatever that means, so what? I've still got things to do, matters to address, stuff to stuff. I like this comment that a particular Redditor pointed out and said, "Mindfulness is an unlucky translation of the Pāli word 'sati.' It's remembering to observe how mind's attention moves."
When we do engage in this mindful approach, which I'll point out in a moment, we tend to help ourselves move from scatter to smoother waves of thought where we can more deliberately, deeply, calmly engage the moment.
Okay, so well, that's all well and good. What am I talking about anyway? What is anchoring and how does it relate? So I'm gonna walk you through eight levels of how this practice of pen and paper deepens and, and how it becomes more mindful and hopefully it'll, it'll give you a sense of , what I mean by this.
From to-do list to a menu of the moment
Level one. We all know how to use a scratch pad, right? You write stuff and sometimes that's totally what we need to do. There's nothing more that we need to do. We just need to write what we need to do and do the things.
Typically we write a to-do list of sorts. We throw things down, remember, "Oh, I gotta do this, that, the other thing," all the things that are weighing us down and ah, doesn't that feel good to get out?
Trouble is none of it's done and that can be exhausting depending on what we've written. Sometimes we can even overwhelm ourselves looking at whatever we've just created, this awful golem ready to destroy its creator.
One thing that's missing is any respect for working or short-term memory, those parts that engage the now. These are the things that would hopefully help us stay with this present moment instead of having to juggle the zillions of things that are bubbling outside.
So level two. What if we just listed what was on our mind to do in this moment? What our mind is juggling just about the now. Those things that are not now, well, we could put those somewhere else. Those are quite likely important in their own ways. Fine. But just doing that, chances are you'll have reduced that list considerably.
Just what's going on in our mind right now? What is on my mind? We might even recognize that having these items of the now sitting on paper can now support us. We have more mental energy available to clearly decide where we want to rest our attention next. We're not being dragged down by whatever we cannot do in this moment.
In this way, anchoring answers two questions. First is, what's on my mind? Maybe something that's bubbling just below consciousness or right there. What's on my mind to do? And then secondly, where would I like my mind to be? And that's where we circle something.
Now, we're only at level two here in terms of the levels of mindfulness, if you will. So let's keep going here. So far, we've only written down the things that are likely "shoulds", but what's also in our mind are "wants."
What if we expanded? What if we allowed onto this list our current wants? I wanna play a game. I wanna step outside. I wanna watch a show. Even allowing ourselves to recognize that we have wants, that they might have a place to sit side by side with our needs, that can be a revelation.
Not the least of which, and one that can take considerable practice for some, is realizing how this sheet of paper can now shift from "shoulds" and "have tos" into a list of options, a sort of menu for the moment.
At the fourth level, even further, when we start to conceptualize more deeply how this is just about the now, we can start feeling like this paper is not here for us to serve it, it's there to serve us. It supports us.
The way we do that is we allow ourselves to throw it away. We can throw this away at any moment, whenever it no longer represents the now. Now, of course, if there's something we wanna keep, we can put that somewhere else. But here we've got this thing that is dynamically shifting to meet us in this moment.
Okay, but what about when we finish writing this beautiful list and perfect it in whatever ways, although I'm not saying that one ought to perfect it in whatever ways, but let's say you're doing it anyway, and then wander off immediately. Well, we've been impulsive, haven't we?
So we can define impulse as this sort of flow of emotion into action that at least in part has overwhelmed or bypassed consciousness. Let me say that one more time. We can define impulse as a flow of emotion into action that at least in part overwhelmed or bypassed consciousness. In other words, something unconsciously happened.
We suddenly realized we were in our emails or social media, three tabs open researching the best possible air fryers when all we wanted was a snack. Well then, what if we acknowledge those, too?
That's level five. In those moments, we catch ourselves, which we may not always be able to do, but when we can, we can return to that list, that anchor path that we've been building here, and write down where we wandered.
In that way, we're doing a few things. We're, we're making the unconscious conscious. But not only that, we're giving it a space, a place that it can rest, where our working and short-term memory can again be supported, where we can gently decide where would we like our mind to be. We're not forcing ourselves out of where we went. We're not forcing ourselves into something else. It is now an option amongst the rest. Agency is strengthened.
WIN, WIND, WIND-E, BE WIND
With these ideas so far, we've got want, impulse, need. A lovely mnemonic already. WIN. Win of the now, right? This prompt can already be helpful to help us be mindful in engaging, in helping support that sense of agency at the moment.
But there's deeper we can go yet. What if we wanna do nothing?
Level six. Don't we have that right? Of course. We can drift. D for drift. Adding to our mnemonic, we have WIND.
Level seven, deeper yet. We can recognize how our options are all formed from emotion that which is cresting into consciousness. These emotions are coming from somewhere, maybe somewhere of meaning, known, unknown, conscious, unconscious, well beyond.
We could, if we wanted, don't have to, write a word or two about where our mind is. Write one part frustrated, three parts worried, and a dash of curiosity somewhere in the corner. Maybe we start to journal or not at all, but doing so adds E for emotion to a misspelled WIND-E mnemonic.
Finally, we've got level eight. We can think about how these emotions even rest in the body, a tension in the gut, a crinkle of the eyebrows, a tightening of the breath. Our bodies are trying to tell us something, whether clear or not.
So B for body creates the mnemonic B WIND. I find there to be something deliciously paradoxical between the idea of anchoring and being wind, but it works. Anchoring is pausing, not tethering. Often when I mention anchoring, people at first think I'm talking about tying ourselves to something, and that is not at all the case.
Anchoring is about pausing. It's creating that breather, that space between the waves of focus to look at the possibilities....

This week I am joined by storyteller Neal Foard to discuss the act and emotion of care. Those of us with ADHD and wandering minds can often get overwhelmed by the negativity taking over our social feeds, looking at the news, or even just talking to those around us.
Neal reminds us that while compassion fatigue is real, it's also not all doom and gloom. Our algorithms are created for engagement, doom sells and our attention is our currency.
It's important to take a step back and look at the good things going on around us - even at a micro level. From the person letting you merge during heavy traffic, to someone turning in a lost wallet. Good things are happening all around us, and when we put more care into the world, more care comes back.
Learn more about Neal and his work on his website StoryFire.net
Mentioned in this episode:
Waves of Focus YouTube Series
Look out for new episodes of the new Waves of Focus YouTube series here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJpQS5q6yvRw

When the universe puts something fun or interesting in front of us, it can become a welcome distraction from what we are "supposed" to be doing. This can be especially true for those of us with ADHD and wandering minds.
We can easily be swept away, like a boat at sea, riding the current of thoughts and emotions taking us further and further away from our plotted destination.
Instead of going against the current, I propose a structured pause to reflect on where you are being pulled, as well as what is pushing you away.
Take a deep breath and notice your thoughts and the feelings flowing through your body. Then name and write down the activity pulling your attention towards it.
You can then turn tasks into options, allowing deliberate consideration for how you would like to precede and where to focus your attention.
We end with a piece entitled “Waves on Night’s Shore.”
Clunking down the stairs, dragging myself to the laptop, an idea or two rattling in my head.
I need to get back to that person. It's been a couple days since they emailed me. Starting to get rude not to answer.
Ah, but I still have to research something.
Pet the dog, pull out the chair. Wait, I need my tea. Grab the decanter, go through the motions of preparing a gong fu session of tea, this wonderful little art of creating tea, a shortly brewed small cupful at a time.
Finally, I crack open the laptop. Barely conscious whispers of that email evaporates as if I said, "I can wait. I have all day." 'Cause as I open that lid, that project I'd been working on, open overnight, greets me with its virtual open arms. "Hey, you, here's that next step ready to go. Just nudge me forward."

The Project That Greets You
So here I am, dragged myself to the laptop. I had an idea of what to do, and it's gone as soon as the laptop's opened and there was something sitting there waiting for me. What would it hurt if I just tapped it forward? I do have all day, don't I?
And we all know where that thinking leads.
I've been working on a major project both using and exploring the potential of AI and more specifically, Claude Cowork, building what are called "skills" along the way.
Questions have been bubbling. Am I giving up my sense of agency? Am I harming the environment? W-I can do what now? This is the neatest thing.
Back and forth ideas go as I come to grips with the ideas of its impact on society as well as the minutiae of the moment's project. All wonderful problems to wrestle with and excite me along the way and distract me from that email.
I Can Feel the River
I'm being pulled. Paraphrasing Dungeon Crawler Carl, "I can feel the river."
A wandering mind can easily be caught in eddies of emotion. Interest, passion, that regular visit to something that engages us, tantalizes, promises, develops a sense of meaning, flares from play into challenge along some paths of mastery.
Forget the dishes, forget that email. There's the thrill. We're doing something. Maybe we hadn't been doing something before. Maybe we're just pulling out of some period of exhaustion, some not only still but stagnant waters, and here before us is that feel, that pull.
For some, it's a game. For others, it's a book, a garden, an exercise, an event, a world developing within and without. May even be the dishes or cleaning beyond.
Whatever it is, we inherently sense that distortion that comes from that powerful emotion. Any emotion, particularly the powerful ones, passion or otherwise, distort that lens of the now.
For those with ADHD, we're already myopic, monotropic, magnified. This moment is already heightened, in the not now, meaning beyond current conscious awareness, flows along the periphery, shrouded in a fog we hardly even know to be there.
Maybe you have an overwhelming list of things to do. Maybe you have a meeting waiting to stare you down in a calendar. But those negative associations, themselves a rocky, thorny, ugly worry reflexively deflecting our gaze away, seemingly steer us even further into the rapids of that promised play.
Boats, Not Cars
I've often said we're not cars with poor brakes. We're boats floating on the seas of emotions, and there are no brakes.
Why the Pause Is So Hard
The pause is vital, but my goodness is it the most difficult of all the productivity ideas, the executive function skills, whatever terminology you want to give it. Pausing is difficult in part because we haven't a clue as to what to do with it.
Do I look at the ceiling? Do I white-knuckle avoiding the thing I really wanna do? Do I force myself to do the thing I don't?
Framing the Pause
But how about if we frame a pause with the following?
One, first know the pull, the push, the joy, the anger, the worry, the fear, the care, the overwhelm, the whirling winds and waters ready to drag us about. Again, the hardest of all steps.
Second, take at least a single deep breath to be there, though to whatever caring degree makes sense. Give those feelings their space to be recognized as thoughts, felt as feelings, sensed in the body.
And three, name the thing of interest. What's pulling us? Maybe even write it down, optimally with pen and paper. In this situation, part of what's thrown matters off is that ease of access.
The laptop said, "Hey, I'm right here," as I opened it. The hope, though, is that we can then hold ourselves in that space so that we can better craft our environments. We can then raise the thresholds against those things that we'd prefer to avoid simply drifting into and lower the thresholds towards those things we'd like to engage more deliberately.
We hope to guide ourselves.
Begin, or Wind Down
So here in this pause, where we've written down this idea, we can consider also writing the words begin and wind down next to whatever idea.
So if I've been working on a project, I might write down wind down project with the idea that I would clear it out. Doing this, we've now created the options of one or the other, acknowledging that we can engage or deliberately consider how we can set it aside. With that deep breath, we can then more fully decide perhaps to wind it down, and let's say we did.
The Project Map
Now with a piece of paper again, I could write a title, play the game, garden, explore the AI. I can write down what's on my mind to do about this. I can write, if I were to put this away somewhere out of the way of other things that I find meaningful, maybe even out of sight, how would I get there?
How could I get there from this document I'm writing right now? Could it be a link? Would it be directions? Could I start putting things in places, hiding them so that they're out of the way of other things?
So that this thing won't jump out at me once I open the laptop, and then I can still get there from, from this piece of paper, from this document.
Once I've done that, maybe I can think, is there anything else about this on my mind? Can I even let it consciously drift from my mind?
If I can do that I'm acknowledging the momentum that's there, the strength, the power, the whatever it was that was, so fueling me in that moment, and with that, addressing that momentum.
Now, those questions that I just mentioned, those steps that I walked you through, create what I call a project map. That document, that object can now act as a portal. Makes it easy to get to everything, but keeps everything else out of the way.
You no longer have to rely on the thing to be the reminder of itself, a surefire way to distract or shame yourself as it continually sits there undone. Now you have this central place, and you can cross off wind down that you'd written earlier.
One More Breath
Pause. See what comes to mind. Maybe you still wanna dive in even after you've cleared it all out. But I also wonder if after doing something like this, you might have more mental room for other ideas to come to mind, other wants, other needs.
Maybe write those down. You have every right to dive back in. Those currents are still there ready to ride. But if you decide to do so, you'll be much more conscious of that decision.
"Waves on Night's Shore"
Well, July just seems to be a month of improvisations. Years ago, I performed live on various stages. I remember one such performance about 20 years ago or so now at an electronics festival in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.
I was talking with other performers. One of them asked me about the bed I used. A bed in the musical sense is this sort of background rhythm, a beat, something that would go where, you know, you could, create things above it. Generally something in a higher register, a melody, typically, it was something pre-programmed. But I said I didn't have one.
Everything I did and continue to do is generated live. I take my inspiration from jam bands like Phish, who I admire greatly. There's an importance to underlying structure, but it needs to be able to match the energy, sound, rhythms, and the like of the melodies above, at least as I feel it.
Maybe that can happen. Maybe those pre-recordings need to happen, especially if we're recording in a studio. But something fun does seem to happen when, the background and the foreground reacts with each other. Same thing that happens when musicians play together live. In any case, I hope you can hear that in this following piece called Waves on Night's Shore, and I hope you enjoy it.
Mentioned in this episode:
Waves of Focus YouTube Series
Look out for new episodes of the new Waves of Focus YouTube series here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJpQS5q6yvRw

This week I welcome creative mind and graphic designer extraordinaire, Matt Strieby of New Leaf Design. I was first lucky enough to work with Matt in 2005, when he captured the vision for the art gracing the CD for my album, Ontogeny. We've been collaborating ever since.
We discuss the creative process for those of us with wandering minds and neurodivergent/ADHD traits, the importance of play balanced with structure. We also talk about embracing and learning from our earlier "cringe" moments, and the importance of sometimes literally walking away from a project to give space for our creativity to breathe.
We talk about Matt's personal process: reflection/visualization (often sitting quietly or walking), playing in the “sandbox” phase of sketching and experimentation, a refining phase that narrows options while preserving play, and a final production phase with technical, structured execution.
Matt’s design work is at newleafdesign.com.
Mentioned in this episode:
Waves of Focus YouTube Series
Look out for new episodes of the new Waves of Focus YouTube series here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJpQS5q6yvRw