Honestly Kid

by Daniel Damkoehler


2nd thoughts

Keeping Your Head in the Game


A human head — not mine

I’m not doing so well at that whole head in game thing. Not today.

I have a lot of dis­trac­tions.

Of course, it would help if I could decide exact­ly what my game is, I sup­pose.

Then again, see also my post on spe­cial­iza­tion.

Anyway, I’ve caused some minor dis­as­ters at work. Okay, maybe they aren’t minor. I sup­pose that depends on who you ask, but we agree on the dis­as­ter part.

So, now that we have a point of agree­ment, I sup­pose we can move on to solu­tions, right? Maybe you gen­tle read­ers can help me answer these ques­tions:

How do you keep your head in your game(s)?

Why do we have trou­ble keep­ing  our heads in our games?

Where is my head if not in the game?

What’s my game?

What’s yours?

4 Responses to “Keeping Your Head in the Game”

  1. Stasia » October 23rd, 2009

    Eckhart Tolle sums up my thoughts on this:
    “Wherever you are, be there total­ly. If you find your here and now intol­er­a­ble and it makes you unhap­py, you have three options: remove your­self from the sit­u­a­tion, change it, or accept it total­ly”. “The pain that you cre­ate now is always some form of nonac­cep­tance, some form of uncon­scious resis­tance to what is.”
    I believe this is so true in the sense that those real­ly are the only three choic­es that will lead to any true change and in turn, hope­ful­ly, con­tent­ment.
    In regards to your ques­tion “Where is my head if not in the game?” I sug­gest that it is like­ly con­stant­ly try­ing to fig­ure what fun, adven­tur­ous, excit­ing, NEW game you’d like to be play­ing in, and what posi­tion you’ll play, and for what team, and, and… But I offer that while you’re still in this one, play it whole heart­ed­ly so that you can bow out grace­ful­ly know­ing you always gave it your all and move on to your grand new adven­tures that I know you will. Easier said than done, I know. I don’t mean by this to sug­gest you should just set­tle and stay in this game and for­get mov­ing on, but sim­ply to be present where you are, when you are, will always feel bet­ter than the alter­na­tive in my opnion.

  2. dandam » October 23rd, 2009

    A) Have you and Laura been talk­ing?
    B) Thank you for shar­ing some real wis­dom. It’s the kind of stuff that’s impos­si­ble to remem­ber when I’m look­ing for a new game.

  3. dMark » October 24th, 2009

    The advice from one of my yoga instruc­tors con­tin­ues to ring in my mind when­ev­er I ques­tion what I’m cur­rent­ly doing. To para­phrase:

    Do this one thing like you do every­thing.”

    I may be putting away the dish­es but at the moment that’s exact­ly what I’m doing until it’s done.
    I get the feel­ing that I’m late to GTD trend ~2004–2007. I’ve read & reread the David Allen books; I sub­scribe to the pod­casts; I fol­low Merlin Mann; I’ve invest­ed a small for­tune in list man­ag­er soft­ware. I’m even a dork with my own Hipster PDA.

    Among the many pieces of use­ful & semi-use­ful advice these are some of the things I’ve found:

    1) As we live our lives accu­mu­late a crit­i­cal mass of respon­si­bil­i­ties & com­mit­ments.
    2) If you don’t man­age them then they will either man­age you and/or you will get lost.
    3) Don’t under­es­ti­mate the amount of time & resources spent main­tain­ing your cur­rent com­mit­ments. Beyond that is your oppor­tu­ni­ty for change.
    4) Make & main­tain lists of your cur­rent & intend­ed projects.
    5) When you’re in doubt about what you should be doing in the “big­ger pic­ture” start clos­ing loops: water the plants, walk the dog, make the bed.

  4. dandam » October 28th, 2009

    I like that list, par­tic­u­lar­ly the last item. Closing loops.

    It reminds me a lit­tle of what a friend who had gone through depres­sion recov­ery (12-step for man­ic depres­sion to over sim­pli­fy) told me about the best way to feel bet­ter when depressed: make a list of all the things you see that need fix­ing from the small­est and clos­est at hand to the largest and fur­thest away, then start fix­ing from the place you’re in now going out­ward and don’t wor­ry about per­fec­tion along the way. Pick up the cof­fee mug with mold grow­ing in it next to your bed and wash it. Go make your bed. Take a show­er. Put on clean clothes. A day or two of that and you can’t feel bad about the mess of your imme­di­ate sur­round­ings. It’s not the whole answer to depres­sion or life, but it seems like it is one of those fun­da­men­tal things con­tem­po­rary American cul­ture teach­es us to for­get about. You know, how can you be well, keep your life togeth­er, and do all those lit­tle things of liv­ing if you haven’t watched the lat­est 15 episodes of what­ev­er, and con­sumed every­thing in sight, etc?