Tag Archives: attention span

Brevity

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Brevity: (n) shortness of time.

Brevity is not only the soul of wit, it is also the heart of smart.Dictionary B

It is very important that all the sons and daughters of Earth learn at an early age about the dangers of boredom and how little attention span most people can offer.

When I first started traveling, I assumed that my presentations could last an hour-and-a-half. Even though I was careful to keep things interesting, and even surprising, I quickly discovered that with distraction and a bladder, the human being has limited tolerance for sitting patiently and “receiving.”

Matter of fact, I am frightened to the core of coming across repetitive. I look for any sign that I’ve lost the attention of nearby hearers.

I have even stopped in the middle of a sentence–and no one noticed.

I had to giggle inside, realizing that several paragraphs earlier they had obviously bailed out of the conversation (probably without a parachute).

Are there guidelines to help us avoid being overly talkative?

Here’s a clue: tell a part of the story. Leave it dangling on a cliff. See if anybody demands you continue.

Then create another cliffhanger–always providing an open door for the listener to be satisfied … and move on.

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Bonsai

Bonsai: (n) an ornamental tree or shrub grown in a pot

Once upon a time, in a kingdom where bank accounts were not depleted, I had some extra money burning a hole deep in my right pocket of selfishness.Dictionary B

It was scary.

I went over the bills three or four times just to make sure I hadn’t missed something, but at the end of my calculation, I discovered that I was temporarily endowed with abundance.

I wanted to do something lavishly weird–and not just lavish, like buying several cans of whipped cream, but weird. Something that would give others pause, but then they would feel foolish for questioning the wealthy fellow and his eccentric choices.

I hunted, I searched and I found a gentleman who sold bonsai trees.

I knew nothing about them. But I felt like owning one was a symbol of prosperity. So I bought two. Double the potency.

The fellow tried to explain to me the care of these plants and I listened with the attention span of a three-year-old who has to pee but also wants to ride the roller coaster.

When I got home with my bonsai trees, I realized that I had completely forgotten everything he said, and had left the literature behind, trusting my memory.

Then came that great, ridiculous American assertion: how hard can it be?

  • So I watered them
  • I trimmed their little branches (having remembered this being part of the process)
  • And every day when I returned, they looked a little worse

It was like watching your Grandma die of old age. I was concerned but totally helpless.

Then inexplicably, they developed tiny insects which started eating away at the bark.

It took about five weeks, while I heroically tried to give CPR to these dying new friends, but eventually they turned brown–and for some reason, started to stink.

I threw them both into a big garbage bag, took them out to the curb and said good-bye.

I can’t swear to it, but I thought I heard one of them, from within the bag, gasp, “Murderer.”

 

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Auction

Auction: (n) a public sale in which goods or property are sold to the highest bidder. dictionary with letter A

Honestly, I’ve only been to one auction.

I think. (Sometimes we make bold statements like “I’ve only been to one…” and then we’re contradicted by a friend or loved one who reminds us of previous encounters. But let me stick to my story.)

I was 11 years old.

My dad was a “jack of all trades” (as long as that trade was accounting.) He had his own loan company, which was moderately successful. He did tax forms during the season and every once in a while he was the accountant at auctions, taking care of the bids and the money.

At 11 years of age, I didn’t have the attention span of anything because I had not yet acquired an attention span.

So thinking it might be fun, I begged my dad to let me go with him to one of the auctions. He was reluctant, fearing he would have a droopy-shouldered, bored kid with him, but apparently was going through some sort of fatherly guilt over not spending enough time with me, so he agreed.

It was the most boring thing I have ever experienced–and honest to God, I have been in some boring experiences.

Here’s the truth: to enjoy an auction, you have to have money, be able to understand what the auctioneer is saying with his light-speed lip service, and have some interest in a bunch of crap which just might turn out to be valuable in some unexpected way.

As you look at that short list, you can see that an 11-year-old boy is shut out of the game.

I was literally underfoot, being stepped on four times by adults. I was stepped on because I was trying to lay down to take a nap, because I was sleepy from trying to listen.

My father’s face had that common blend of pity, fury, desperation and amusement that often accompanies any parent who ends up taking a child to the wrong place.

Finally he gave me $5 so that I could bid on one of the items from a toy chest which had been brought in for sale.

So I did.

It was actually two different toys–a huge bag of army men and a Slinky. Suddenly I became possessed, and needed to have both of them.

So I bid, trying to keep up with the auctioneer’s patter.

Unfortunately there was another kid bidding against me, and even though deep in my heart I believed he was not interested in the items, he was certainly intrigued over winning the game.

Finally I yelled at the auctioneer, “Five dollars!”

A chill went down my spine as he said, “Going once…going twice…”

And then, all of a sudden, my nemesis screamed out, “Five dollars and ten cents!”

I looked at my dad, hoping for another quarter. He looked away, as if the paternity test had proven him seedless.

I was beat out by a little punk who didn’t even want the toys.

I don’t like auctions.

Now you understand why.

 

 

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Attention

Attention: (n) notice taken of someone or something dictionary with letter A

After a handful of decades of public speaking, I will tell you that human beings are not interested unless they’re interested.

That may sound silly, but if you stop to think about it, all of us are inundated with information which has little use to us in the moment. But we are challenged to believe that someday, at some place, it will become valuable.

So unfortunately, this puts us all in a conformity of boredom, feeling mature by enduring speeches instead of enjoying the now.

Here’s what I think about attention. It goes really well with two ideas:

  • Attention to detail
  • Attention span

I think these go together as a pair.

If I go into a lot of detail and lose the attention span of my audience, then no matter how righteous I feel in sharing my data, it is absolutely worthless because no one’s listening.

On the other hand, if I take some time and find out what really does interest people and put it in the context of what will actually help them, then I can use my attention to detail effectively.

People may have a limited interest in government, but they really want it to work and not interfere.

Folks may want to go to heaven, but nobody’s in a big hurry to get there.

And people are only interested in following instructions when it means they can put together something that will be fun.

I think we’re in danger of hating humanity because they’re so human instead of studying humanity and loving them for being human.

My attention is held by what seems to be pleasurable. If I can make love, generosity, tenderness and creativity a pleasant experience, then I have brought a great gift to my generation.

 

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Archer

dictionary with letter A

Archer: (n) a person who shoots with a bow and arrows, especially at a target for sport.

When I was growing up, the pursuit of sports in my home was very seasonal–not in the sense of baseball in the summer and football in the fall, but rather, attention span.

My father and brothers developed interests in activities, and always would find a “good deal” on equipment relating to this endeavor, which they would purchase, only to discover that the materials were inferior, which made it impossible to adequately perform the task.

  • We bought a canoe that leaked.
  • We had some water skis that were cracked and fell apart the first time someone got on them in the water.
  • We had a basketball hoop that was supposed to be easy to set up in your driveway which never got higher than four feet.

Likewise, while watching Robin Hood one day on the television set, my older brother wanted to purchase a bow and arrows. My father thought it was “a champion idea.”

So with no understanding whatsoever of archery, they set out to the local hardware store, where the proprietor sold them one of his old bows and six arrows for “a really good deal.”

Without exaggerating, I will tell you that it took them two weeks to learn how to string the bow. The amount of energy it took to bend the bow for stringing nearly crippled their comprehension. The power required to pull the bow back, to shoot the arrow even two feet, was also extraordinarily daunting.

But after a couple of months, they convinced themselves they were experts on the subject and took me out to the woods to try my hand at shooting at a target.

I hated it immediately.

It took too much energy to pull the string, and because the bow was bent from the numerous attempts to manipulate it to our will, the arrows flew crooked, more resembling boomerangs.

After about the sixth attempt, they were ready to have a competition, to see who could hit the target the most often.

My dad stood ten feet to the side, away from the target, so he could give instruction to my brother and myself to make the competition more interesting.

I pulled back the bow and was ready to shoot it when my dad piped up and said, “No, Jonathan! Use more of your thumb!”

Not understanding what he said, I turned towards him in order to be respectful to his instruction, and as I did I slipped and released the arrow, which flew through the air, knocking his hat off.

It was William Tell without the apple.

My dad never said anything about it, but we quickly packed up the gear and it was stored from that point on, in the garage … next to the half-water ski.

 

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Al fresco

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Al fresco: (adj) in the open air: e.g. an al fresco luncheon.

Much as I enjoy the arrival of spring with the promise of coming summer, and the warmth of that experience, I also become fully aware that I am about to be inundated by many different individuals who want to take advantage of the beauty of the season … to do everything outside.

Especially difficult for me is when they suggest that I take my sound equipment and music and array it on some sort of makeshift flat-bed trailer to perform in a park situation, surrounded by so many distractions that it’s nearly impossible to get the attention of a dead squirrel.

Let me tell you what bothers me about it:

1. Good sound needs walls. Otherwise it floats out and joins with other distracting molecules and becomes distorted or dispelled.

2. Even though I work very hard to be interesting, birds and trees, supersonic jets flying overhead and children briskly running and tripping to fall and scrape their noses do tend the eliminate the possibility of an ongoing attention span.

3. Bugs. If you are a normal person who showers, uses deodorant, or God forbid, aftershave, bugs seem to approach you as if you were a saloon and they are determined to get drunk on your elixir. I’ve had them fly in my mouth, buzz my bald head and perch themselves inside my ear.

I think I’ve just described the definition of “distracting.”

It happened to me recently when some friends invited me out to dinner, and asked if I wanted to sit at a table near the lake. It was a beautiful evening, about 6:15 P.M., and apparently the exact time when the local bees come out for an evening fellowship and what appeared to be church service. They huddled together, gathering around our food, and at times it appeared they were saying grace for the bounty set before them.

We eventually (being more intelligent than the buzzers) found ways to cover up our food, our bodies and the surrounding table with napkins, plates–and I think one lady used a scarf. It was not exactly what I would call a favorable dining experience.

I think going camping is an al fresco event. When you do so, you plan on roughing it, taking on nature and trying to get away from the delicacies of life.

But every other time you go al fresco, you must realize that it’s going to turn out to be a campout–and as soon as you arrive outside, you have departed your home … and entered Nature’s back yard.