After turning 50, prominent psychiatrist Gerald G. May started to take solitary camping trips to wilderness areas, attempting to become more connected with nature (including his own nature). His book The Wisdom of the Wilderness: Experiencing the Healing Power of Nature (HarperSanFrancisco, 2006) describes his adventures and their effects on him.

In his first such excursion, he was irritated by the loud droning of cicadas. He tried to tune them out, and their singing was so steady and rhythmic that he was able to do so; then they would stop abruptly, and the silence would capture his attention. The sequence repeated over and over.

Noticing how his awareness cycled, May reflected on the interplay of contemplation and attention. He describes contemplation as “a state of awareness that is, among other things, wide-open and completely present to whatever is going on in the immediate moment.” Attention, on the other hand, is focused, directed to specific tasks to the exclusion of background stimuli and distracting thoughts. He initially worked to block out the cicada sound and concentrate on other things; eventually, he decided to open himself up to the sound and learn from it.

May suggests that “it is civilization, the taming of our nature, that has taught us to focus on a single task and tune out what we consider to be distractions.” We have to do this to some extent to function in society, but we lose something in the process. As May puts it:

“What we are missing is fullness of life. To put it simply, in concentrating on one thing at a time, we miss everything else. Going shopping, we miss the sky. Doing work, we miss the singing of birds. In conversation with one person, we ignore the presence of others. Through it all, we fail to appreciate our own precious being–the soft flow of breath, the beating of heart, the subtle beauty and wisdom of body, the sheer pristine wonder of being aware.” p. 64,5

I was struck by the contrast May drew between contemplation and attention. I’ve always been able to focus well on tasks, to the point that, if I’m reading an interesting book or working on a problem, I can be totally oblivious to conversations, sounds, or activities going on around me. That results in me being remarkably unaware of my surroundings. Someone can ask me a simple question like “what color is your living room,” and I’ll have no idea, after having been in it every day for years.

My ability to concentrate on a task served me in good stead when I was working as a therapist or college professor. Now that I’m mostly retired, though, I don’t often need such highly focused attention. I’d be willing to trade some focus for more awareness of the broader world and a more contemplative approach to life. Alas, once focused concentration is learned, it’s not easy to unlearn.

There is research indicating that the ability to concentrate decreases some with age. I haven’t noticed much difference to this point, though. Perhaps changes in my brain during the coming decades, should I live that long, will loosen the grip of focused attention and I’ll become more open to experiencing my surroundings more fully. However, I’d like to achieve that state by some means other than by waiting for neurons to die.

A couple of days after I started mulling over contemplation and attention, I ran across this Financial Times graphic. (It was in an article at The Dispatch by Yascha Mounk entitled “How We Got the Internet All Wrong.” The link is https://thedispatch.com/article/social-media-children-dating-neurotic/) 

The article argues that heavy exposure to the internet is wiring young brains differently than the programming that affected previous generations. The chart most relevant to the question of attention is the third one, showing the degree to which people of different ages described themselves as easily distracted. Those younger than 40 reported more distractability than older adults, and the difficulty has increased markedly since 2016, whereas the ratings made by people over 60 have seen little change.

It’s a problem for young people if they can’t concentrate well: it’s likely to affect work performance, interpersonal functioning, and the ability to smoothly navigate daily life. Will there also be a silver lining in the form of openness to the world around them and an increased capacity for contemplation? Or will their attention be captured by the virtual world without any improvement in their receptivity to nature or other aspects of the world around them? I’d like to hope for the best, but at this point I don’t see evidence of a coming wave of young contemplatives.