Escaping or enhancing? Photo by author's wife.
One of my most creative spaces is in the shower. It’s a pleasurable place. The water is warm, and there are no distractions. Sounds of the outside world are drowned out. It’s a vulnerable zone. I’m naked and unaware of potential threats. Horror movies are notorious for their shower scenes.
But I’m not afraid in the shower. I don’t play music or listen to podcasts. I’m alone with my thoughts and unaware of the passing time. I’m never bored in the shower. I enjoy the serenity. With no distractions and only my mind to observe, like a monk on a mountaintop, this is when aha-moments happen.
I’d argue that a long bike ride through the woods and lying awake in bed are, at the very least, equally pleasurable. They should be. Nature is beautiful. The mattress is so comfortable. But I have to admit that being isolated with my thoughts in these spaces used to feel like torture. They still sometimes do, but mostly, I revel in the mundane. I cherish the boredom — the serenity — alone with my mind, observing the scenery and the thoughts floating by.
Over the years, I’ve flipped mundane experiences into opportunities for contemplation. Now I’m doing meditations, mantras, brainstorms, and intentions. This has been a long and winding journey of self-reflection. One of the methods I used was simply realizing that, as I age, I want time to slow down. My days are numbered. I want to cherish them. When time melts away, I feel like I’m racing to my last breath. When it slows down, I can cherish this precious gift of life.
Now, even the most extreme moments of boredom, such as sitting in traffic or standing in line at the DMV, are cherished opportunities for serenity.
But somewhere along the line, I went from standing on a mountaintop of tranquility to preaching from the mountain. I’m over the mountain and coming back down the hill of judgment. I’m biased and don’t know it.
“I think the problem with listening to music while biking is that we’re missing out on being alone with our thoughts. It’s an escape.”
“I disagree,” said Abby. “For me, music enhances a run.”
“This sounds like a this-or-that situation. Escaping or enhancing.”
When a conflict like this arises in conversation, it’s an excellent opportunity to explore with whole-mind thinking. It’s a way of finding the best of the best of notions that appear to be in conflict with each other. I’ve turned this into a game.
“Abby, do you want to play The Whole Mind Game?”
“Oh yeah. Can you remind me how it goes again?”
The rules are simple.
What’s the best of [this]?
What’s the worst of [this]?
What’s the best of [that]?
What’s the worst of [that]?
What’s the best of [this] and the best of [that]? — This is the synergy phrase and the place we want to be
What’s the worst of [this] and the worst of [that]?— This is the trap!
What are ways to live the synery and avoid the trap?
After going over the rules with Abby, we restated the phrase for our conflict. “When listening to podcasts and music while riding bikes and going on runs, are we escaping or enhancing? Step 1: Rephrase it: How can we escape and enhance our activity?”
“Okay, husband. You go first. What’s the best of escaping?”
“My answer is Freedom. Escape can offer that expansive sense of release: from pressure, pain, overstimulation, or even the relentless pace of thought. It can be a breath of air, a doorway, a letting go. Okay, your turn.
Abby said, “My word is Relief. Escape, at its best, gives us a pressure valve. It’s what allows us to rest, to regroup, to step outside a moment we’re not yet ready to face. That space can be sacred.”
“Alright, now it’s the shadow side. What’s the worst of escaping?”
“My word is Disconnection. At its worst, escape can sever us from others, from reality, from ourselves. We lose access to growth, clarity, and sometimes even meaning.”
“Nice! I like that. Mine is Denial. Escape can cross into avoidance, where we’re no longer just catching our breath but refusing to face what’s true. It can blur the line between care and disconnection.”
“That was fun. Let’s do the second word. You go first, Andrew. What’s the best of enhancing?”
“Discovery. Enhancing an experience can reveal layers we never knew were there. It brings color to the gray, depth to the shallow, insight to the routine. It can turn the ordinary into a doorway.”
“Oh. Very cool. What I’m thinking is: Richness. Enhancement, at its best, makes life more vivid. It’s what turns a run into a ritual, music into memory, a moment into meaning. It adds flavor and resonance.”
“Wow. I like that, Abby. Okay, are you ready for the shadow side? What’s the worst of enhancing?”
“My word is: Distortion. When we over-enhance, we risk losing touch with what is. The raw, the simple, the quiet truth can get buried.”
“Love that. Okay, my word is: Fake. Enhancing can drift into performance and overproduction, where nothing feels real unless it’s been curated, edited, or amplified. It’s a slippery slope from meaning to illusion.”
“Okay, we’re on to the synergy phrase,” Abby said. “What’s the best of the best?”
“Let’s see, I said the best of escaping is freedom, and the best of enhancing is discovery. My synergy phrase is: Open-Mindedness to New Things.”
“That’s beautiful. It speaks to a mindset that is both free and curious. My synergy phrase is: Expansive Presence. It’s the ability to stay open, to let the moment breathe — not by fleeing it or dressing it up, but by allowing it to stretch into something fuller, deeper, richer.”
“What about the shadow phrase? What’s yours?” I said.
“My pain phrase is: Glossed Over Emptiness. It’s that haunting feeling when things look vibrant but feel hollow. When the music’s playing, but you can’t hear yourself anymore.”
“That’s deep, Abby—definitely a place I want to avoid. For me, the worst of escaping is denial, and the worst of enhancement is being fake. That adds up to: Running Away From My Truth. It’s when escape becomes avoidance, and enhancement becomes disguise. Instead of freedom and discovery, we end up in a cage — disconnected from what’s real.”
“This was fun. I like this game. It’s nice that there are no right or wrong answers. It’s an exploration.”
What are ways to live the synery and avoid the trap?
I’ve been cycling alone with my thoughts for years now. Even without a bud in my ear, what am I doing on that bike? Am I escaping anyway? What if I did listen to a podcast? Could it be enhancing, like Abby suggested?
Thankfully, she pushed me off the mountain. Choosing to never listen to music while riding a bike was “this-or-that” thinking. The word “never” is a clue that I had entered into an “either/or” state of mind.
The conversation I had with Abby and playing the Whole Mind Game opened me up to considering it. A few weeks ago, my friend suggested I listen to the Rich Roll Podcast. The episode featured guest Craig Mod discussing his 300-mile walks, Japan’s philosophy of “enough,” and the profound power of undistracted presence.
It was a long podcast — nearly three hours. I was headed out on a four-hour bike ride and, with a clear mind, decided to break my rule and listen to the show. It was ironic because it revolved around a theme of taking extraordinarily long walks without technology to be alone with our thoughts, take in the world around us, and have an opportunity to connect with people.
I have to admit. It enhanced the ride, just like Abby said. I’m coming to observe the mountain from another perspective.
It depends on the day and what’s going on. Sometimes, life gets overwhelming, and I need a bike ride to escape. When I recognize that, it’s time to turn off the music. The tunes are a distraction to drown out my mind. If I do that, I’m headed towards denying my truth. But on other days, all’s good in the world. My mind is clear. This is a great time to listen to music. Better yet, this is when I like to put on a podcast. While on that ride, with a clear mind, I get to learn new things.