Attention

• When I try to think about thinking, I become aware not of some internal mechanisms that do thinking, but rather of attention. When I try to concentrate on what is happening in my mind, paradoxically, I become more aware of what I am looking at.
• I had a girlfriend who liked to ask what I was thinking about. Most of the time I lied for simplicity. One time I told her - "I'm thinking about the color blue, and lightning, and..." I listed maybe 8 or more things that were flitting through my mind.
• Only sometimes am I consciously asserting attention. Typically:
  • I'm trying to solve a word puzzle
  • I'm trying to solve some problem at work
  • I'm talking with someone
  • I'm reading
  • I'm watching a movie or TV.
• But often, I'm not consciously attending to something. Typically:
  • I'm driving or walking somewhere, and though I'm attending to the road and to the GPS and drawing on my own sense of direction and knowledge of the route, I'm not generally aware of these things
  • I'm doing some task that does not require my active attention.
  • I'm doing sport - swimming or cycling
  • I'm not doing anything - just sitting in the garden or lying in bed waiting for sleep
• But in fact, in either situation, I cannot say that my attention is consistently applied and directed at the task I'm doing.
• If I'm working on a problem at work, I may be interrupted by:
  • An email or IM coming in on my work computer or via my phone. These are the typically interruptions we think of in the 21st century
  • A movement somewhere in my field of vision or a sound
  • A bodily discomfort - an ache in my back or neck or being thirsty or hungry or needing to go to the bathroom.
  • A thought about an errand I need to do before the evening.
  • A thought about a recent conversation or TV show or book or song.
  • A thought about anything else at all. Maybe the text I am writing triggers a memory or maybe the thought comes apparently from nowhere special.
• Attention is like a horse - if I want to get somewhere in particular - to solve a problem or complete another task - I need to guide it with its reins in the correct direction.
• We think of ourselves consciously piloting our lives - concentrating on one thing after another - being active, doing - but how much is that really the case?
• When I look at my cat, I can see that she is attending to things, whether it is:
  • A bird that she will not catch or a mouse that she might
  • The position of nearby humans who may bother her or - in terrifying circumstances - place her in her travel box.
  • Hunger or other bodily needs
• I don't think that she's planning anything, but she is able to model her environment, to explore it, and to learn from experiences. After many years, she is now notably less suspicious of us - though she will seemingly never get used to her travel box!
• So how much are we piloting ourselves consciously? We have the same basic bodily needs as she does and some drive to procreation and a need for shelter. And then, on top, is all of this human society, which tells us that we need to do certain things:
  • Take care of our physical appearance and wear clothes.
  • Earn money
  • Consume culture
  • Respect laws and rules
  • Follow rules of etiquette
  • Be healthy
  • Be desirable
  • Be good citizens
• This stuff, combined with the needs of the body, takes up most or all of our day. But do we do this all consciously? How much of this stuff is done on autopilot, and how much are we consciously present for