Motivating with Thoughts

There seems to be a path—not a rigid list of tasks, but a subtle course of action—that leads to things getting done efficiently. I’ve just begun to grasp it, though loosely, so bear with me.

It’s a bank holiday morning, and here I am, relaxed in my recliner, contemplating the free hours ahead and listening to my thoughts. Some urge me to tackle unfinished projects; others suggest simply enjoying the time off. Neither option feels particularly appealing at the moment.

Conditioned by habit, I push myself to decide. My thoughts begin to align in binary terms—black and white, right or wrong. My mind demands an answer: “Which way today? Left or right? Hurry, make a choice!” But after sitting with these thoughts for a while, this seems like a distraction.

Instead, I consider just listening—sitting with my thoughts until something stirs me to action. Not just listening to my conscious mind, but also paying attention to the more primal parts of the brain: the mid-brain and the brain stem, often referred to as the rat brain and the amoeba brain.

Taking stock of these secondary brains, I find:

• I’m groggy, possibly from the long hours of sleep that preceded this holiday morning.
• I feel content—a little hungry, perhaps, but with no urgent needs or expectations. There’s no pressing reason to move from this spot.
• I feel burdened by expectations—society’s, the house renovation still incomplete after 11 months, the undone laundry, the packing I need to finish, and the imagined expectations of my partner.
• The air is cool on my feet, the recliner comfortable. The cloudy day and dim lamplight suggest that another nap is a possibility. Our ancestors would likely have found this situation quite satisfactory.

But this last observation stirs all three brains. Our ancestors didn’t advance by sitting idly in their caves. Their instincts weren’t enough to propel them in great leaps; instead, it was the small discomforts—cold feet, raw meat sickness, rain in the cave—that nudged them into action.

And here is my revelation: rather than force motivation, can I simply monitor my thoughts until a minor annoyance, observation, or concern moves me to act?

A small pang of frustration over an empty soda can beside me. Easily remedied—I lean forward and drop it into the trash. Now in motion, my thoughts shift to other small tasks: my meds within reach but not yet taken, empty cartons behind a chair, clothes draped over the chair, and the overflowing laundry basket. None of these are conscious decisions; they are simply responses to observed thoughts, feelings, and sensations.

Once I started to follow this way of being driven, it began to take over. I quickly handled the tasks mentioned, dressed, went to the renovation house and tidied up, cleaned my office in the new house, set up my air purifier, then returned home to continue tackling things as they naturally arose. I ended up accomplishing more on this holiday than on many previous ones.

This is something worth considering.