Suppose it’s 4.10 p.m., on a day when it’s not my turn for school pickup, and I’m focusing hard in my office at home when my son bursts in, to tell me excitedly of his preparations for the school play. A small moment of connection, the kind of thing life’s supposed to be about – except that if my time-boxing plan deems 4 p.m. to 5 p.m. an hour for deep focus, then his entrance is suddenly an intrusion, one more minor way in which my day has gone wrong. Had I spent the five minutes prior to 4 p.m. doing a focus meditation, entering a state of mental quiet in preparation for my hour of
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