A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future

by Daniel H. Pink

  I don’t disagree with the message of Who Moved My Cheese? but I do take issue with the metaphor. In the Conceptual Age, Asia and automation may constantly be moving our cheese, so to speak. But in an age of abundance, we’re no longer in a maze. Today the more appropriate metaphor for our times is the labyrinth.

  Mazes and labyrinths are often lumped together in the popular imagination, but they differ in important ways. A maze is a series of compartmentalized and confusing paths, most of which lead to dead ends. When you enter, your objective is to escape—as quickly as you can. A labyrinth is a spiral walking course. When you enter, your goal is to follow the path to the center, stop, turn around, and walk back out—all at whatever pace you choose. Mazes are analytic puzzles to be solved; labyrinths are a form of moving meditation. Mazes can be disorienting; labyrinths can be centering. You can get lost in a maze; you can lose yourself in a labyrinth. Mazes engage the left brain; labyrinths free the right brain.

  There are now more than 4,000 public and private labyrinths in the United States. They are surging in popularity for many of the reasons I’ve discussed in this chapter and in the rest of this book. “In an age when many Americans are looking beyond the church pulpit for spiritual experience and solace, a growing number have rediscovered the labyrinth as a path to prayer, introspection, and emotional healing,” reports. 15 You can find them everywhere: in downtown squares in Switzerland; village greens in England; public parks from Indiana to Washington state to Denmark; universities in northern California; jails in southern California; and at houses of worship such as Riverside Church in Manhattan, the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., Methodist churches in Albany, a Unitarian church in San Jose, and a synagogue in Houston.16 Labyrinths are also showing up at hospitals and other medical facilities—like the one in the photo on page 229 at the Bayview Medical Center at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.

  This labyrinth, which I walked one morning not too long ago, is composed of four-inch by four-inch brick squares. Eight concentric circles, formed from similarly sized white squares, orbit a center space that’s roughly two feet in diameter. Along the outer edge a few squares have single words stamped onto them: Create. Faith. Wisdom. Believe. Visitors often choose one of these words, and then repeat it, like a mantra in meditation, as they circle to the center. I began my labyrinth walk by heading left and walking through the first ring. As I looked around, I saw a few Medical Center buildings on one side and a parking lot on the other. Nothing transcendent about this. It felt as if I was simply walking in a circle. So I started again. To avoid distractions, I looked down. I focused my sight on the two curving lines that formed the outline of my path, and I began walking—as slowly as I possibly could. The lines curled around me. And after a while it felt a bit like driving on a long empty road. I didn’t have to pay much attention, so my mind slipped to a different place—and that had an unexpected calming effect. The experience, perhaps not surprisingly, was similar to the drawing course of Chapter 6 and the laughing club of Chapter 8. It jammed my powers of L-Directed Thinking. “A labyrinth is an escape for the right brain,” says David Tolzman, who designed and built the Johns Hopkins labyrinth. “As the left brain engages in the logical progression of walking the path, the right brain is free to think creatively.”

  The person who most put labyrinths on the cultural map is Dr. Lauren Artress, an Episcopal priest at Grace Cathedral Church in San Francisco. A few years ago she traveled to Chartres Cathedral in France, site of a forty-two-foot-diameter labyrinth etched into the floor of the nave. When she visited, the labyrinth was covered with chairs and hadn’t been used for 250 years. Artress removed the chairs, walked the labyrinth, and then imported the concept to the United States. She installed two now popular labyrinths at Grace Cathedral. And she set up a ministry called Verditas that provides training and labyrinth kits to churches and other organizations.

  “We live in such a left brain world . . . and here’s this whole other world that we must integrate in order to meet the challenges of the next century,” Artress has said. When people walk into a labyrinth, they “shift consciousness from the linear to the non-linear” and bring to the surface “the deep, intuitive, pattern part of ourselves.” That experience is different from the experience of being in a maze, she says. “[I]t takes you into an entirely different part of your being than that problem-solving, I-hope-I-make-it feeling.” Even the shape of the typical labyrinth is significant. “The circle is an archetype for wholeness or unity. So when people walk into the labyrinth, they begin to see their whole life.”17

  About forty hospitals and medical centers now have labyrinths—for many of the same reasons that empathy and narrative have begun infiltrating the medical world. There’s a growing recognition that the analytical approach to healing, while absolutely necessary, is not always sufficient—and that approaches once dismissed as woo-woo suggestions from New Age whack jobs can help patients get better. That whole-minded thinking led to the labyrinth at Johns Hopkins, one of the finest medical facilities in the world. Its organizers wanted a place where patients, their families, and the medical staff could go to “find physical and mental relaxation.” It may be working. At the labyrinth site are two weathered yellow notebooks in which people who have walked the labyrinth can write their thoughts. The notebooks testify to the solace and sense of meaning the labyrinth brings. Doctors and nurses write of coming here after challenging or harrowing experiences. Families of people undergoing surgery describe coming here to pray, to think, and to distract themselves. And in the notebook are moving stories written by patients themselves—entries like this one, which was written just a few days before I arrived:

  I join in the spirit of all those who have walked the labyrinth and have written on these pages.

  For me, my surgery, one week ago today, is the beginning of a new phase of life. My word as I walked the labyrinth was “BELIEVE.”

  I believe in a new future.

  “We are not human beings on a spiritual path, but spiritual beings on a human path.”

  —DR. LAUREN ARTRESS,

  Episcopal priest and

  labyurinth pioneer

  Labyrinths won’t save the world, of course. Neither will any of the six senses I’ve discussed in this book. Making the transition from the Information Age to the Conceptual Age, moving from a landscape of L-Directed Thinking to one of R-Directed Thinking, adding the capacity for art and heart to our penchant for logic and analysis, won’t be easy. Few worthwhile things ever are. But maybe that’s the point. As Viktor Frankl could have told us, the ideal life is not a fear-fueled pursuit of cheese. It’s more like walking a labyrinth, where the purpose is the journey itself.

  Say Thanks.

  Gratitude works. Feelings of gratitude enhance well-being and deepen one’s sense of meaning. That’s why Martin Seligman, whose work I described earlier in this chapter, advocates “the gratitude visit.” It works like this: You think of a person in your life who has been kind or generous to you but whom you’ve never properly thanked. You write a detailed “gratitude letter” to that person, explaining in concrete terms why you’re grateful. Then you visit that person and read the letter aloud. According to Seligman, the ritual is quite powerful. “Everyone cries when you do a gratitude visit. It’s very moving for both people.”

  Seligman’s research, as well as the work of the growing ranks of scholars who study positive psychology, suggests that gratitude is a key component of personal happiness. People who are grateful about specific things in their past, who dwell on the sweet triumphs instead of the bitter disappointments, tend to be more satisfied about the present. The gratitude visit, Seligman says, can be an effective way to “increase the intensity, duration and frequency of positive memory.”

  One reason to give the gratitude visit a try is that it can generate a momentum of its own. Those who are thanked often then start to consider who in their lives they never thanked. So they make their own pilgrimage, as eventually do the
recipients of their thanks, resulting in a daisy chain of gratitude and contentment.

  Two variations on this theme are the birthday gratitude list and the gratitude one-a-day. The birthday gratitude list is simple. Once a year, on your birthday, make a list of the things for which you’re grateful—with the number of items equaling the number of years you’re turning that day. (When I did this on my fortieth birthday, my gratitude list included everything from red wine to the fact that my children are healthy to living in a free country.) Your list will grow by one each year—the theory being that the older you get, the more you have to be thankful for. Keep your lists and review them each birthday. It will bring a sense of satisfaction that can soothe the anxiety of time’s passage. The gratitude one-a-day is a way to weave thankfulness into your daily routine. Each day, at a certain moment, think of one thing for which you’re grateful. Some people do this when they’re about to go to sleep. Others do it to accompany some existing routine—when they drink a cup of coffee in the morning, when they make their bed, when they take their first step outside. These gratitude exercises might sound a little touchy-feely to some of you. Give them a try anyway. I guarantee you’ll thank me.

  Take the 20-10 Test.

  I heard this exercise from Jim Collins, author of the blockbuster book Good to Great. He encourages people to look at their lives—in particular, their work—and ask themselves whether they would still do what they’re doing now if they had $20 million in the bank or knew they had no more than ten years to live. For instance, if you inherited $20 million, no strings attached, would you spend your days the way you spend them now? If you knew you had at most ten years to live, would you stick with your current job? If the answer is no, that ought to tell you something. This test alone obviously can’t determine your life course. But the approach is smart—and the answers can be clarifying.

  Measure Your Spirit.

  In my research, I’ve encountered two self-assessments that help measure qualities and attitudes associated with Meaning. Neither of these instruments measures exactly what I mean by the elusive ability of Meaning. But both are interesting, useful, and worth exploring.

  The first comes from Dr. Ralph Piedmont of Loyola College in Maryland, who’s developed what he calls the Spiritual Transcendence Scale. It’s much like the other assessments I’ve mentioned in earlier Portfolios. You answer a series of questions—and when you’re through, you tally up your score based on your responses. Piedmont says that “people high on ST believe that there is a larger plan and meaning to life, something beyond our mortal existence. . . . Those low on ST are more concerned with the material aspects of life and see no larger meaning to life other than what life offers in the here and now.” (More info: www.evergreen.loyola.edu/~rpiedmont/STSR.htm)

  The second self-test, called the Index of Core Spiritual Experience (INSPIRIT), is the work of Dr. Jared Kass of Lesley College in Massachusetts. It measures your spiritual experience as well as your overall sense of well-being—and then assesses how the two intersect. For instance, when I took the test, I was told, “You have a healthy sense of well-being, but spirituality may not be a strong contributor.” Again, this test isn’t the be-all of self-understanding. But it can let you know how much spirituality plays a role in your overall happiness. (More info: www.tinyurl.com/5sz7u)

  But Out.

  Do you know what would make your life more meaningful, yet you find yourself stymied by the obstacles standing in your way? Break through those roadblocks with this simple exercise.

  Compile a list of some of the important changes you’d like to make in your life and what’s keeping you from realizing them.

  I’d like to spend more time with my family, but I travel a lot for my job.

  I’d like to eat better, but I’m surrounded at work by sugary snacks.

  I’d like to read more, but I rarely have time when I can sit down with a book.

  Now go back to each item and replace the word but with the word and.

  I’d like to spend more time with my family, and I travel a lot for my job. So I need to find ways to bring my family along during some of my travels.

  I’d like to eat better, and I’m surrounded at work by sugary snacks. So I need to pack my own supply of more healthful snacks to reduce my temptation to eat the bad stuff.

  I’d like to read more, and I rarely have time when I can sit down with a book. So I need to get books on tape that I can listen to in the car or at the gym.

  Exchanging and for but can move you out of excuse-making mode and into problem-solving mode. It’s grammar’s way of saying, “deal with this.” And if this technique fails? You can always say, “I wanted to make changes in my life, but that exercise in Pink’s book didn’t help me enough.”

  Take a Sabbath.

  Select one day a week and remove yourself from the maw. Stop working. Don’t answer your email. Ignore your voice mail. Turn off your mobile phone. Most Western religions have established a Sabbath— the seventh day of the week—as a time of peace, reflection, and prayer. Whatever your faith, consider experimenting with this practice. (And this need not be religious at all. Secular Sabbaths can be equally re-energizing.) For guidance, check out Wayne Muller’s book, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives. If committing to this weekly ritual isn’t right for you, consider Muller’s alternative: “Choose one common act during your day to serve as a Sabbath pause.” Whenever you, say, grasp a doorknob or reach for the telephone, “simply stop, take three mindful breaths, and then go through the door, or answer the phone.” Sabbaths, however momentary, can be important punctuation marks in busy lives.

  Read These Books.

  Recommending books about meaning is difficult. Much of the world’s great literature and religious texts tackle the topic of what meaning is and how to find it. So the following book recommendations don’t trump great novels or sacred texts. Read the Sermon on the Mount, sections of the Torah, and parts of the Koran, too, if you’d like. But for more secular, contemporary, and prescriptive guides to meaning, consider any of these fine books.

  Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl—Simply one of the most important books you’ll ever read.

  Authentic Happiness by Martin E. P. Seligman—It astonishes me that more people haven’t read this book and absorbed its lessons. It’s an ideal introduction to positive psychology and contains all sorts of exercises to help you put the findings into action in your own life. (More info: www.authentichappiness.org).

  Flow by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi—“Flow,” when you’re so absorbed and enthralled in an activity that you lose your sense of time and place, is an important component of the aptitude of Meaning. This book is your guide.

  What Should I Do with My Life? by Po Bronson—That’s a question all of us have asked ourselves—and it’s one that Bronson got hundreds of people around the United States to ask themselves. He returned with a trove of moving, inspiring, and insightful stories.

  Mindfulness by Ellen Langer—Too many of us stumble through life mindlessly, says Harvard professor Langer. We’re stuck in routines and unaware of our surroundings. Breaking out of that mindset, she says, can be the pathway to creativity and meaning.

  The Art of Happiness by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, M.D.—The Dalai Lama visits with physician Cutler—and in a series of interviews explains his philosophy of life and expands on his idea that “the very purpose of life is to seek happiness.” Two related books are also excellent: The Art of Happiness at Work, another Dalai Lama–Cutler collaboration, extends Buddhist happiness principles into the office. Destructive Emotions is a fascinating “scientific dialogue” with the Dalai Lama that Daniel Goleman conducted during a Mind and Life conference in 2000.

  Visit a Labyrinth.

  I’ve tried meditating—and did a pretty bad job of it. I’ve considered yoga, but (physically at least) I’m not very flexible. However, I’ve found labyrinths to be surprisingly addicting—so much so
that I’d consider installing one in some future backyard. The advantage to me—short attention span, inability to sit still—is that labyrinths require movement. And moving meditation can be calming and centering. To find a labyrinth, start with these Web sites:

  The Worldwide Labyrinth Locator

  wwll.veriditas.labyrinthsociety.org

  Here you can type in your city and country—and find the labyrinths nearest to you.

  The Labyrinth Society

  www.labyrinthsociety.org

  Known as TLS, this group operates a site with a wealth of information on labyrinths. The site also has its own, shorter list of labyrinths as well as a few nifty virtual labyrinths.

  Labyrinthos

  www.labyrinthos.net

  A British resource center for all things labyrinthine and a good source for labyrinths in the United Kingdom.

  To learn more about labyrinths, two books are worth perusing: Walking a Sacred Path by Lauren Artress and the photo-heavy Labyrinths and Mazes by German photographer Jurgen Hohmuth.

  If you end up catching the labyrinth bug, you can find all sorts of portable labyrinths and labyrinth construction kits. One of the best Web sites for such products is the Labyrinth Company (www.labyrinthcompany.com,) which designed the labyrinth I walked at Johns Hopkins. If you’re not ready to plow a unicircular pathway into your lawn, consider a wooden “finger labyrinth”—a palm or lap-sized item in which you “walk” the labyrinth by tracing the grooved paths with your finger. They’re oddly soothing and don’t require leaving your home or office. (More info: www.relax4life.com)