For many years I was the primary “manager” of the early-morning routines in my house — waking my children, making breakfast and lunches, getting the kids to the kitchen table and to school, on time. Every day the challenges were unique — some days there were no clean socks, or someone overslept, or one or both kids just didn’t feel like eating. Once we sat down to breakfast, we often experienced a few moments of calm. At other times I would have to remind my kids that breakfast is a noncontact sport! After dropping them off at their schools, I felt a sense of relief and accomplishment. The rest of the day, being CEO of a small, growing, complex company seemed easy in comparison to the task of getting my children to school, on time, every morning.

There is a Zen story about two groups of monks arguing over a cat. The teacher, in response to the conflict, picks up the cat in one hand and a knife in the other. He says to the group of monks, “Say something of the truth of Zen, or I will cut the cat in half.” No one said anything, and the cat was killed. (Remember, this is a story — I’ve always imagined that the teacher pretended to kill the cat.) Later, the teacher was describing this event to one of his most revered students. Upon hearing what had happened, this student, without saying a word, took off his sandals, put them on his head, and left the room. The teacher said, “If only you had been there, the cat would have been saved.”

What did this student do to save the cat? What does this story have to do with business and our work lives?

Mark Jung-Beeman is a cognitive neuroscientist at Northwestern University, and he has studied what happens inside the brain when people have an insight. He was quoted in a recent New Yorker article, saying: “If you want to encourage insights, then you’ve got to also encourage people to relax.” The article notes that “Jung-Beeman’s latest paper investigates why people who are in a good mood are so much better at solving insight puzzles.”

What Jung-Beeman has discovered is that insight and creative solutions can be inhibited or blocked by being overly focused. Instead, what is often needed for insight is to focus on not focusing. The article continues, “As Jung-Beeman and Kounios [a cognitive neuroscientist at Drexel University] see it, the insight process is an act of cognitive deliberation — the brain must be focused on the task at hand — transformed by accidental, serendipitous connections. We must concentrate, but we must concentrate on letting the mind wander.”

“In essence, all things in the entire world are linked with one another as moments. Because all moments are the time-being, they are your time-being.” Zen teacher Dogen, from a talk in the year 1240, Japan

Many years ago, when I was a student living at Zen Center’s Green Gulch Farm, it was my welding teacher, Harry Roberts, who taught that the secret of welding is to see that the natural state of metal is actually liquid. By applying heat, we soften it to its original condition, and make it flexible, allowing it to be changed with little effort. Harry laughed as he told me this, and said this is the secret of being a human being as well. Our world, and time appear solid, he said. Our belief in this solid world leads us to act in ways that are similar to attempting to shape metal while it is hard. Instead, our minds and bodies are much more fluid than we usually assume; our world is less permanent, and more possibilities exist than we conventionally imagine.

A paradox is something that appears to be contradictory, unbelievable, or absurd but may in fact be true. Do less. Accomplish more. These statements present a paradox. Acknowledging, owning, and embracing the paradoxical nature of our lives, the lives of others, and the world can lessen our resistance to change and increase our effectiveness. At its most basic it makes us less tense and more open to happiness.

When I look at my own life and self, I see that I embody a number of paradoxes. Here are a few:
I am shy and solitary, and I love speaking in front of people.
At work, I am completely myself, and I play a role.
I am firm and decisive, and I am cautious and conservative.
I am a businessman, and I am a Zen priest.
I can concentrate for long periods of time, and I’m easily distracted.
I am confident, and I’m extremely vulnerable.

“I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”
- Michael Jordan

The “inner critic” seems to be the human condition. Perhaps it serves a positive role of keeping us out of danger by being on guard and suspect, or helping us strive to greater accomplishments. And, for many people, it is just a bad habit, a constant running of negative energy that tends to limit and constrict presence, effectiveness and joy.

Mindfulness is a practice and a way of being. Mindfulness is the practice of being present for what is – in your body, your emotions, the emotions of others, your surroundings, for life. Benefits to the practice of mindfulness include increased peace and greater happiness. When someone asked the historical Buddha, How can I be more peaceful?, he responded, “When breathing a short breath, know that you are breathing a short breath. When breathing a long breath, know that you are breathing a long breath. Simple, yes. Easy, not always so easy.

The art of doing less isn’t merely about becoming more productive employees or businesspeople. The true benefit of focusing on and taking a break from busyness is that it brings more kindness and love into our lives. With less busyness and unnecessary effort, more kindness and love can rise to the surface, leading to more effectiveness, energy, and focus. When we feel depleted, love is the best replenesher — which includes the love we feel for ourselves, the love we freely give to others, and the love that comes to us from the people we care for and admire most.

It’s worth pointing out that the opposite seems to be true as well. In our increasingly busy and impatient world, people seem to be less kind and patient with each other. Much of that seems to stem from busyness itself and from the increasing attitude that being polite and caring is just another form of wasting time.

I saw a cartoon in a recent New Yorker magazine in which two people were finishing their dinners at a Chinese restaurant and had just opened their fortune cookies. One fortune read, “You are going to die.”

If you let this fact sink in — that life is short, and we all die — it can actually act as a powerful motivating force to help maintain focus and priorities. Everything changes and is impermanent, so are we fully present and making the most of this fleeting moment? Are we fully aware of what we are doing? Appreciating impermanence clarifies priorities, and it helps us identify any frenetic, shallow and ineffective activities we’re being distracted by. We see clearly the things that exhaust us and distract us from experiencing the blessing and opportunity of each particular day.

When my son was twenty, he once said to me, “Look at you, Dad. You are old, short, balding, and have crooked teeth. You have the responsibility of caring for children, and you run a business and own a home. I don’t think I want to be anything like you.” I felt tremendous love and affection from and for my son. I could see that he was struggling to understand his own future and the decisions and choices that would confront him as he developed. I felt proud to see my son searching and questioning. What is real freedom? What is responsibility? How do our ideas get in the way? How do we act freely, effectively, beyond success or failure, free of fear, free from hindrance?

I pointed out that he probably would, unfortunately, look like me when he got to be my age. About the responsibility of having children and running a business, I asked him, “What’s the alternative? Do you think that freedom means not having responsibility, not making difficult choices?”