Monks, Distracted

We’ve always been easily distracted. For survival’s sake. Didn’t notice the large predator rustling in the bushes? Then you’re dead meat. But what if you didn’t have to worry about hungry lions, and you could cloister yourself away from distractions? Turns out that’s not so easy either. The subject of Jamie Kreiner’s book, The Wandering Mind, is what medieval monks and the desert fathers thought about distractions and how to avoid them. Their goal was to focus on God; but it’s hard to beat evolution.

 

What did monks from the 300-900 C.E. in Europe and around the Mediterranean try to do? Some tried to get away from it all. They lived as hermits and ascetics, away from the distractions of civilizations and other people. But as the fame of their devotion grew, they would get more and more visitors wanting to learn from the holy hermit. It’s difficult to set yourself apart when hordes are knocking at the makeshift door of your cave or lean-to, out there in the wilderness. Also, when you’re alone, you can lose your anchor without the reference state of other human beings.

 

Thus, living communally became a popular option. Mutual support towards a common goal, iron sharpening iron, accountability, encouragement, and necessary rebuke – these might be an aid more so than a hindrance. Rules helped. But no one could agree which ones were best, thus the variety of monastic communities with their different codes of conduct. Should silence be enforced most of the day? Should there be a rigid schedule of work, prayer, mealtimes, alongside personal study and meditation? By following rules, decision-making can be reduced and delegated. But who decides who does what? What if there is a breach of discipline? Historical records suggest no agreement between different sects as to what was best.

 

Kreimer’s chapter on the body was eye-opening. I had expected to read about fasting and abstinence from sex, and the challenges of these “disciplines” and strategies that different groups employed. But I didn’t realize that personal hygiene was a big issue. Some groups believed in “high and dry”, depriving themselves of baths and clean apparel. Others wondered if such practices were “on oxymoronic performance of humility, that it fostered feelings of self-obsession rather than obliterating them.” They even argued about haircuts and shaving. I was also surprised to read about folks who worried about sleep. Some thought that reducing sleep “had the beneficial effect of restricting the mind’s susceptibility to distracting dreams and demons.” Praying and keeping vigil in the middle of the night could be considered a virtue.

 

The second half of Kreimer’s book discusses how reading, memory, and mental exercises played a role in the life of monks. Monasteries were book repositories – the local libraries of the medieval world. Reading was thought to help focus the mind, but it could also be distracting especially if it was too interesting and lodged itself too firmly in one’s mind thereby becoming a distraction. Active reading was encouraged, by taking notes in the margin or rewriting what you had read in a way that clarified the subject matter. That’s likely how commentaries got started. Monks were also encouraged to memorize portions of scripture or important sayings and stories. The memory palace was one among several strategies, as were visual mnemonics. Having memorized something, one could then meditate on it, twisting it around in one’s mind to get at the meat. Also highly prized was the art and discipline of metacognition – thinking about thinking – so you could recognize distractions and consciously teach yourself to refocus your concentration.

 

Back before it was popularized in psychology today, the concept of flow was something monks thought about and, in some cases, tried to achieve. When in that state of flow, it was if time no longer mattered, distractions ceased, and one medieval practitioner observed “the feeling of having his mind grow so calm and his heart expand so much that it felt as if heaven and earth were contained within him”. A transcendence of sorts, except difficult to describe experientially. Even metacognition has dissolved. The popularity of meditation techniques and ideas of achieving a state of Zen-like calm is still sought after today, as it was centuries ago.

 

Did I learn anything about my own wandering mind from the monks’ experience? While I have become more hermit-like since the pandemic, I’m not sure it improved my focus. I’m certainly not going to stop taking a shower and I enjoy my beauty sleep and comfortable bed. I read a lot, but perhaps I don’t read actively enough. Maybe that’s why I retain less, but I suspect that an aging brain has different priorities when processing. I memorize less and less, but I’ve built significant knowledge in chemistry that I can recall at will. I do mull over such concepts and try to push myself towards greater depth of knowledge. I think my metacognition has improved ever since I started trying to help students improve in this area. All this seemed natural to do as part of my job and my intersecting interests.

 

The medieval monks recognized that distraction was systemic, and not just an individual personal failing. They actively combatted distraction because for them it was a moral issue. The devil can whisper distractions in your mind’s ear. But the divine also speaks and breaks into our conscious thoughts. Therefore, discernment was highly prized, and could only be improved through discipline and study. You can only think “higher” thoughts if you keep practicing. I’m reminded of the advice of Sertillanges that I read not too long ago. I don’t think I have actively developed the discipline of focused thought, but for some reason I’m not bothered by it. Maybe I should be. And maybe there’s something I can learn from the medieval monks.