I prepared my protein shake Monday morning, sat down at the table, and—with the shake in one hand and my phone in the other, with TV in the background —opened email.
The message from my mentor for the next session in my Wonder of Words writing course stopped me mid-sip: “I am choosing something very powerful. Unwavering focus. The ability to walk, when I walk.” There was a link to this video and the assignment.
Later that evening, after dropping Avyukth at soccer, I sat alone in the grass field as the sun softened the sky. I watched Dandapani’s talk. His monk-trained perspective on awareness versus the restless mind stirred something deep and persistent inside me. I sat silently afterward, letting it settle. Then I played it again. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
My entire day replayed in my mind: every unconscious shift of attention from one notification to another thought, from work to family details and back again. It was as if the talk had turned on a soft inner light I couldn’t switch off.
The student in me woke up with real intensity. Focus has been my quiet theme this year, especially while practicing the “choice-less state” through Ichigyo-Zanmai. But Dandapani’s simple glowing ball of light analogy made it feel deeper and more practical. That night I listened once more, taking mental notes that landed with force.
Over the next few days, I began watching myself more consciously. I visualized my awareness as a colorful disco ball spinning wildly — flashing from emails to meetings, family plans to random thoughts, never resting long in one place. I could almost step outside myself and observe the chaos in real time. This is insane, I thought. I need to reduce the number of times I move that light. Strangely, seeing it so clearly felt empowering.
The phone, of course, was a major culprit. That same evening I made a decision: no more letting notifications pull me during the workday. At day’s end, I faced a flood of alerts — none truly urgent. I went through every app, turning off more than 75 percent of them. Now most things wait quietly until I choose to open the app. No more constant badges or pushes tugging at my attention. A small but deeply satisfying cleanup.
I also checked my Screen Time report. Even excluding navigation and essential work tools, I was spending over two and a half hours on the phone daily. I set gradual limits and installed a Focus app to create 30-minute silent windows. From Wednesday onward, the improvement was noticeable — and motivating.
I started leaving my phone behind for small everyday moments too. Grocery runs now mean glancing at the list on my watch. It feels strange at first — like my sixth finger is missing — but it’s a good kind of strange. A few days ago, while dropping Avyukth at soccer, I was still scrolling and walked straight into a low tree branch. The near-fall stayed with me. My ex-colleague once said that if you truly care for something, you treat it with care. I’ve decided this is part of the practice: I will handle my phone — and everything else — with the same focus and respect I’m building everywhere. No more walking and scrolling. No more divided attention that risks even small things.
The mind itself offered plenty of distractions too. In a meeting about Project X, an email about Project Y appeared. I caught myself starting a reply, then smiled inwardly: My light of awareness belongs on Project X right now. Project Y can wait. I saved the draft and returned fully to the conversation. I even turned off the email icon in my taskbar so the red badge wouldn’t tempt me.
Another time, while deep in discussion about Project A, a thought for Project B surfaced. Instead of jumping on it, I jotted a quick note in my to-do list and stayed present. This is not Project B time. These small redirects feel simple once noticed, yet they’re quietly reshaping my days.
As the shifts added up, YouTube began suggesting more from Dandapani. I downloaded the audiobook The Power of Unwavering Focus and have begun listening. Already I catch glimpses of a calmer, lighter version of myself — one that notices distractions earlier and returns the light of awareness more kindly.
I know I’ve barely scratched the surface. This practice of unwavering focus will remain my main focus for the rest of the year and well beyond. It feels less like forced discipline and more like learning to live with greater awareness, one gentle return at a time. The student in me is still eager, the inner churn is still present, and I’m deeply grateful for it.
Leave a Reply