Category / mindfulness

by Nathan Coumbe

What are you REALLY hungry for?

Ever find yourself staring into the harsh glow of the refrigerator when you know you aren’t hungry?

Or digging through the cabinets, hoping one of those rustling foil bags will “hit the spot”?

If you’re human, the answer to both questions is, “yes.”

When you do this, you might be eating because you’re hungry for something else. 

Us humans often eat when we’re feeling stressed, unfulfilled, upset, or angry. We also do it as a form of procrastination: often a tough project at work is too overwhelming to consider. So we put it off by eating. (This is a big one for me…)

If you can resonate with this, fret not. You’re totally normal. 

I used to eat (a lot) because it was the only thing that was bringing me any pleasure at times. 

Work sucked—not only was it exhausting, but it was incredibly dull and unfulfilling. I wasn’t doing something that was meaningful to me, so I ate… just to feel something.

I also had no hobbies (other than watching Netflix). After college, I went to work full-time on a 9-to-5 schedule. And for some reason, I decided to give up every satisfying, joy-bringing, fulfilling hobby that I had. 

There were other things missing in my life too… Holes that weren’t being filled.

All I could do (so I thought) was fill it with food. It was the only “hobby” I had.

Of course, this wasn’t good for my health. I gained a massive amount of weight, put a dozen inches on my waist, and developed injuries usually only suffered by folks in their 70s.

Any of this sound familiar?

Using food as a coping mechanism is very common. It’s solving a problem for you right now, even if it might cause other problems later. And that’s okay—don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. 

If you’re ready, willing, and able, the first step is to build awareness. Not to change anything, mind you. Just become aware of what’s going on a little deeper below the surface. 

You can start by enacting a simple practice.

Whenever you feel a craving for something…

Whenever you’re contemplating a task at work, then walk to the fridge instead…

Pause for just a moment and ask yourself: “what am I really hungry for?”

  • Is it affection? 
  • Sunlight or fresh air?
  • Dancing? Music? Some other hobby you’ve always dreamed of?
  • Validation?
  • Connecting with a friend or loved one?
  • A job better aligned with your skills?
  • Sex? (You have no idea how often we all substitute food for this one 😬)

Once you pause and think about this for a moment, go ahead and have that snack. And enjoy the hell out of it!

For now, all you need to do is recognize what’s really going on—what’s missing.

Then, if and when you’re ready, go take care of that craving you’re really hungering for. 

by Nathan Coumbe

3 meaningful moments

One of my coaches taught me a new exercise this week, and I felt I should share it far and wide.

It’s called the “3 meaningful moments” exercise.

The gist is to think back on 3 different moments from major periods in your life—childhood, adolescence, and adulthood—then write about them in detail.

Once you have this done, you are to distill your experiences into a single word that ties the threads together.

I’ve included my response to this exercise below

***

I was 9 years old, enrolled at an arts school in my city, and required to read a certain number of books each term to get Advanced Reader points. On a whim, I picked up a book that had a picture of a soldier on it— a “Dear America” book entitled The Journal of Scott Pendleton Collins, A World War 2 Soldier.

The opening scene described in graphic detail the D-Day landings at Normandy, France in 1944. From that moment forward, I was hooked on history.

I begged my mom (and she acquiesced) to take me to the library, which became almost a weekly occurrence, and read as many books (many of them well beyond what a 9 year old should have been reading) on that topic.

My interest soon spread out to encompass all of WWII and then history in general. Eventually, my bookshelf at home was FULL of books on just about every topic imaginable, and my library has only grown since then.

When I was 14, my parents bought for me a bass guitar. I’d been studying violin and piano from the age of 7, so I was not without musical skill. But I proceeded to teach myself how to play the bass.

Then I picked up my mom’s acoustic guitar, and taught myself that too. My brother got a set of drums, and I picked up the sticks and taught myself that as well.

That became my focus—I was decent at everything else, but I focused on drums for the next 10 years, taking lessons and eventually getting a bachelor’s degree in jazz studies with an emphasis in percussion.

Giving me that first instrument led me on a journey through every type of music imaginable, and taught me extremely valuable skills such as deliberate practice, diligence, patience, listening, empathy, and more.

At 27, I’d been working for Apple for about a year, when I was offered the chance to become a Creative. In that role, I served as a teacher, workshop facilitator, troubleshooting expert for customers, and a coach of sorts for employees on how to use all our technology.

This was the first time I’d been working when I felt that feeling of flow. Teaching came more naturally to me than just about anything else. Being in front of a group of people, helping them learn and master new skills—this felt more natural than just about anything else I’d ever done before.

And I was GOOD at it.

I had regular customers who’d wait and wait for my classes just so they could work with me. And I learned so many skills: how to sell, how to speak in public, how to present, adapt teaching styles on the fly. And I loved what I did.

Not only was I good at it, but it gave me the chance to learn so many new skills—drawing, computer coding and programming, music production, photography, videography, and all-around creativity. The only reason I left that job was because I wasn’t making enough money to support my family while doing it.

I’m trying to think of a word that ties all of these threads together. “Learning” is the first one that comes to mind. But then “curiosity” came to me. And that feels right at the moment. I truly think curiosity has defined my life and been the underlying reason for both my insatiable desire to learn new things, but also my ability to become proficient at so many disparate things as well.

***

If you have the time and desire, I’d love to hear about your “3 meaningful moments” in the comments below.

by Nathan Coumbe

Everything is a tool

When I was in marketing, I defined myself as a marketer. But I hated that title because of what people expected of me (sleaziness). And because of the jobs that were available—they contrasted with the type of marketing I wanted to do. 

When I was a musician, I defined myself as much. And I burned out. I got tired of the expectations placed on me because of how other people viewed the music world and careers within it.

As I’ve put some space between me and these fields, I’ve had a revelation.

They are just tools.

Marketing is a tool to make change happen. Music is a tool to create emotion in, and connection with, others. 

My fellows in both fields didn’t see it that way. Marketers told me that social media and spamming were the only ways to make things happen in business. 

Musicians told me, “you must focus only on percussion. If you try to play other instruments, you’ll be mediocre at best. No piano, guitar, or voice lessons for you.”

And I believed them. And missed out on some wonderful experiences in the process. And I eventually quit both.

The lesson here is to adopt the “tool” approach, so you see things for what they are. That way, they don’t become your identity. 

I know now that I focused on percussion in college because that area of music was a tool for me to use in that moment of life. To express what was inside of me at the time. It wasn’t who I was. 

And marketing is just a tool, like a hammer. You don’t have to “become” a marketer. You can simply use it as a means to make a change you want to see in the world. 

Separate yourself from the tools you use. 

by Nathan Coumbe

Important things don’t scream

“The things which are most important don’t always scream the loudest.”

—Bob Hawke

In fact, they often whisper. 

Like the child who quietly asks for your attention while wringing her hands: “Hey, Mom?”

Or that stabbing twinge in your chest that’s been paining you more often.

The screaming in our everyday lives often distracts us from what we should really be paying attention to.

by Nathan Coumbe

Wash dishes. Fold laundry.

It’s the modern-day equivalent to “Chop Wood, Carry Water”. A way to find Zen in the mindless, repetitive tasks we must do each day.

Over and over again with no end in sight.

(There’s never an empty sink or laundry basket in my house. Ever.)

But I take them to be signs of life—a family going through the motions of good living.

Dirty dishes mean home-cooked meals and conversations at the dinner table.

Smelly laundry means people played outside, moved their bodies, and had fun.

And if finding Zen in those chores isn’t your thing, you can look at them as a chance to do something else.

Like connect with your kids over the dishwasher.

Or listen to your favorite album.

Or stay abreast of new developments in your industry.

Or practice your Spanish.

Wash dishes. Fold laundry.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Your brain only has one core

The term “multi-tasking” didn’t arrive on the scene until the 1960s. But it was used to describe computers, not people. 

And if you think about it, even computers don’t do multiple things at once as well as they do one thing at a time. 

Imagine your computer running multiple apps, windows, and other software all at the same time. What happens?

The fan kicks on, each app runs slower than it would otherwise. If you’re using a Mac, you’ll probably get that bouncing pinwheel of death…

In simple terms, what’s happening (at least in modern multi-core Macs) is that the different cores of the processors “split apart” to run the different “threads” separately. Each core has to work on its own to do a different task. This is known as multi-threading.

But if you just run one app at a time, the cores can all work together to accomplish that single task faster and more efficiently. This is single-threading.

The human brain works the same way. It does ONE THING very well and multiple things poorly. It’s not designed for “multi-tasking.” 

If computers can’t do it well, what chance do you have? 

It’s cliché to say it, but do one thing at a time until it’s one for better results.

by Nathan Coumbe

Change your story, change your results

Each of us has an internal narrative constantly chattering about who we are. 

But what we don’t always realize is that internal narrative influences how we behave.

If you tell yourself the story that, “Overeating makes me feel happy,” that story might be a stand-in for the real story—“I’m unhappy with different aspects of my life and overeating gives me a small dose of pleasure.”

Until you realize this, you’ll continue to overeat and live on greasy fast food multiple times each week.

(I know this because it’s a story I’m trying to rewrite myself). 

If you tell yourself a story that says, “I’m not skilled at sales or business,” you might never realize your unresolved dream of starting your own venture and working for yourself. 

The first step to overcoming many of our chronic issues is to start telling ourselves a different story. 

Changing what you do starts by changing your identity—who you believe yourself to be. 

Change the story, change the person.

by Nathan Coumbe

Fix your complaining

I learned a great technique from Dr. John Berardi which has really helped improve my outlook on life. 

Here’s what I learned from him:

“It feels silly, but every time I find myself complaining, I immediately stop and list off three good things about my day.”

Read the article about this gratitude technique here, then try it for yourself and let me know how it goes.

by Nathan Coumbe

What’s it for?

A great question I learned from Seth Godin is asking: what’s it for?

The book you’re buying—what’s it for?

That certification you’re trying to earn—what’s it for?

Is it the credibility that goes with having read this or obtained that? If so, that’s just a signaling strategy—though possibly a necessary one.

What about going to medical school and getting an MD—what’s that for?

Is it to get the credibility and authority that goes with the letters after your name? Is it to keep the generational legacy going…even though you’d rather be teaching?

Or is it to actually learn how to help people lead healthier lives?

Back to buying a book—what’s it for? What am I hoping to get out of it? An answer to what I’m supposed to do with my life? Knowledge that I can use to help myself or other people?

Or that certification I’m thinking about. Am I doing it because it actually helps me get where I want to go? Or am I doing it because it’ll look good on a resume?

Begin with the end in mind. That’s where this question leads you.

Begin with the end in mind.

If you don’t know what you want or where you’re going, how will you know what that “thing” is for?

by Nathan Coumbe

A childish sense of wonder

We have completely lost our sense of wonder. Everyone’s in such a hurry that we can’t take the time to appreciate the little things that surround us.

I was out for my daily Artist’s walk and passed a mom and her child. The child was taking tiny steps left and right into the grass, off the path, fascinated by every little thing that he saw. 

Meanwhile the dad was snapping impatiently at the son and the wife: “Hurry up, move faster! Come on, let’s go, let’s get out of here!” 

I was so pleased to see mom stand up for her little boy. She said, “But Daddy, there’s so much to see!“ There was, and he was adamant about exploring every bit of it.

  • What if we could once again find fulfillment from the grass between our toes?
  • How much nicer would life be if a special pinecone fascinated us?
  • Remember that feeling of finding an unusual leaf and wanting nothing more than to stick it in your pocket and take it home?

We could all use a little bit more of that childish wonder in our lives.