Specialisation is for insects, they say. Concentration can be hard when there's a background noise that's anchoring your attention away from the task on hand.
In my case, the task at hand is writing, and the background noise is a story narration of an event that may have happened in the past.
The noise itself is at least 20 feet away from me, but my listening skills are already tuned in, following the story as it unfolds, albeit with gaps of missing information as I'm also writing at the same time.
I think in some ways the mind can do multiple things at the same time. Actually, it's not the mind. The mind doesn't do; it just thinks, mostly.
What I mean is consciousness can in some ways split its focus into multiple segments, each only capturing an aspect of an experience that's unfolding in real time.
The transition from moving one's focus from one segment to another isn't clear cut; it happens haphazardly, for me.
I write a few sentences, and then the narration pulls me out of the writing experience. I grab a few words from the narration, then get back into writing again. This keeps on repeating like a loop until one finally gives way for the other.
Observing this broad experience from an at least objective point of view tells me that although there's a possibility to be a parallel processor of experience, in terms of maintaining deep, sustained engagement across multiple complex tasks simultaneously, humans aren't generally built that way by default, at least not from a capacity for peak performance in each domain.
This haphazard dance of attention shows a subtle but significant difference between rapid task-switching and genuine parallel processing.
Our brains are incredibly adept at the former, creating the illusion of multitasking.
I flip between the narration and the writing, giving fragmented attention to each, feeling like I'm doing both, but rarely achieving full immersion in either.
The constant re-engagement itself also incurs a "switching cost" that reduces overall efficiency and diminishes the quality of the input and output in both spheres.
In this case, the narrative thread of the story will lose coherence and the writing itself could lack the depth and flow that comes from undivided concentration.
Involutionary Duets
The modern world, ironically, seems designed to exploit this very human tendency towards fragmented attention.
I think we're a perpetually anchored by background noise, whether it's a physical or digital, both of which demand a portion of our processing power.
The most insistent demand wins our attention, often at the expense of deeper, more meaningful engagement with a single task.
With all of that said, I think also there's something generative about this fragmented attention.
The story drifting in from across the distance is also feeding something in the creative process.
My mind makes unexpected connections between the narrative I'm hearing and the words that are getting written, both help on creating hybrid thoughts that wouldn't exist in perfect isolation.
I don't know, you could just call it productive distraction, since our minds are also designed to find connections where none were intended.
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