The four questions I’m using to spot hidden influences and make it simpler to align my actions with my authentic self. Plus, a new research-focused column and book recommendations.
My three-year-old got a lime green ukulele from his aunt and uncle for Christmas. His favorite bop to cover is “The Exploding People” by the Minnesota-based indie band Cloud Cult. My son’s rendition is mostly the lyric “Do what you do ‘cause you can’t come back” on repeat.
There’s something about a child who’s small enough to change noticeably nearly every day, holding his instrument upside down while singing about the temporariness of life, that evokes a memento mori effect. As he strums and sings, I contemplate my mortality. Of course, I also bask in the cuteness. But, all the while, the sonic scene inspires me to think about what I do and the spirit with which I do it during my single shot at life.
Sometimes, embarrassingly, my kid’s croons interrupt my scrolling. For me, scrolling on my phone is not what I think of when I imagine the best ways to spend my limited days on this planet. When it happens, I feel called out. (I know I’m not the only one who feels occasionally at the mercy of her smartphone—reclaiming our attention is on tap to be a top trend this year, according to The New York Times Styles Desk.) So I wonder, why do I do what I do? And am I ok with that? And, if I’m not, how can I change it?
Tuning In To Outside Influences To Tune Them Out
When I notice a gap between my intentions and actions, I tend to lean into the overarching strategies of mindfulness and curiosity. I’ve used different tools at different times to untangle my confusion and tune into my inner voice.
One constructive approach has been to use the cocktail party effect to turn down the volume on everything else and tune in to the frequency of my own wisest voice.
But sometimes, when the noise is overwhelming, the opposite strategy is useful. I become curious about the din that dictates my behavior. I focus on it.
Dialing into it and clarifying what outside forces are saying has the paradoxical effect of helping me hear myself with greater fidelity. That’s because when you define things, you defang them a bit. A loud crash is alarming until you realize it’s just that your recycling bin tipped over. It becomes easier to set aside external influences when I see them for what they are.
Four Questions to Cut Through Automaticity: Do, Want, Want, Do
I like structured inquiry (like the Five Whys), so I created a list of questions to help me identify and examine my behaviors and what drives them. The shorthand for the set is: Do, Want, Want, Do (which, I humbly submit, could make a rockin’ doo-wop-inspired ukelele tune).
- What am I doing? Or what am I considering doing? It’s often the behaviors I start without really noticing that are least congruent with the person I want to be. Sometimes, it’s consuming content that I don’t exactly mean to be, like an Instagram video or podcast. Other times, it’s an automatic yes to a work or personal request that I don’t really have time for, given my other priorities.
- What wants me to do this? Here, I’m referring to both human “whos,” including my clients and kids, and more disembodied forces like apps, advertising, and cultural messages. If I hear a should, what’s its source? And what is it saying?
- What do I want? My own impulses don’t (and I’d argue shouldn’t) always win, but they ought to be in the mix. What would my values or needs have me do if they were in the driver’s seat?
- What else can I do? It’s tempting to think that your first impulse is the only option. I have to say yes to this work exactly as proposed, or I only have a minute while I wait for my appointment, so I may as well browse Reddit. But there’s almost always some flexibility. Maybe, practically speaking, I can’t fully say no to a client, but I can counter with a tweak to the timeline or rate. Maybe I don’t have time to focus on consuming content I’d feel better about, like a meaty novel, but I do have time to observe my breath.
From Auto-Pilot to Awareness: A Morning Walk’s Lessons
This kind of intentionality invites inquiries into heavy hitters like career and relationships. Those are the big leagues. But even pros need batting practice. I find that exploring Do, Want, Want, Do in small spaces is the most productive place to start.
Here’s how that went for me during one of my recent morning walks.
- What am I doing? I almost always talk to a friend or listen to an audiobook or podcast during my morning walks and runs. On this day, with little thought, I tapped on the Libby app. My thumb hovered over the white play triangle.
- Who wants me to do this? The lending structures at the library wanted me to finish my listen before the book was due in six days. Goodreads (and its parent company, Amazon) wanted me to crush my 2025 Reading Challenge and, ultimately, consume ever more books. Some vague cultural and economic voices told me as a writer and editor, perhaps even as a responsible, educated citizen, it’s my duty to read as much as possible.
- What do I want? In general, I like to read, and I wanted to finish this book before it’s snatched back. But on this January Sunday, as I walked the dark sidewalks after a fresh snowfall, what I really wanted right then was quiet. I wanted space to think and to hear my boots crunch in the fresh white powder. Especially after a year with almost no snow, I felt homesick for the sound.
- What else can I do? I could pop out my earbuds. I could listen to my footsteps. I could complete the book another day before the loan expires — or not. And if that’s a problem, and I missed the book, I could check it out again.
So I slid my phone back into my coat and pocketed my headphones. Do, Want, Want, Do helped me see that I had a choice. It sketched out some of the previously invisible forces driving my behavior. It illuminated the gap between those outside influences and my internal wants and needs.
That winter morning was a one-shot wonder. It wouldn’t ever come back. And, because I took the time to ask myself four questions, I feel good about what I did.
My Latest Writing & Editing
One of the themes of my professional life has been closing the research-implementation gap. I want what the public experiences — in infrastructure, health care, personal products, you name it — to reflect the latest and greatest in human knowledge.
When I worked for the City of St. Paul in urban planning, that meant advancing nuts and bolts projects, like bikeways, that made best practices real. Now, as a science and health writer, it means sifting through the muck and translating research so it’s more accessible to the busy people who just need to know what it all means for them and their loved ones.
This theme (passion, really) is a big part of why I’m thrilled to have been trusted to write a new monthly column for bpHope covering the newest bipolar research and insights. The first edition went live yesterday. You can click below to read it:
Bipolar Research & Insights: Ketogenic Diet, Sunlight, Immunity, and More | January 2025 (bpHope)
Book Recommendations
The Good Mother Myth: Unlearning Our Bad Ideas About How To Be a Good Mom by Nancy Reddy
I love this book. Beautifully conceived and executed, The Good Mother Myth blends memoir, cultural critique, and social science to reveal something true about what it’s like to be a mother today. The animating idea of the book – that many of us mothers have internalized impossible ideas about what makes a good mom – is deeply, painfully relatable to me as a mom of three. And the argumentation of the book – which essentially re-evaluates and rejects the “evidence” on which these ideas stand – is profoundly healing.
Beyond all that, Reddy’s writing is just plain engaging. As a writer, this is the kind of book that makes me want to level up my craft. I didn’t want it to end.
Recommended for caregivers and women everywhere.
*Thanks to Page One Media and St. Martins Press for providing me with an advance review copy. See my disclosure statement for my policy on accepting books for review.
Ink Blood Sister Scribe, by Emma Törzs
When a friend suggested we read a New York Times Notable Book of the Year Ink Blood Sister Scribe for our year-end book club meeting, it was an easy yes. We’re a Macalester alumni book club, and the author is one of us — and a present Mac professor to boot. Plus, I love cheering on the success of people I even remotely know (It’s a loose tie, but I’ll claim it: Törz was a year behind me in college, and we were Facebook friends before she deactivated her account).
I didn’t anticipate that I would genuinely like the book so much. The storytelling — an international adventure featuring magic books and the scribes who write them — is a joy. Törz has a skill that makes me think of how, in an ancient, parallel reality, she’d be the one telling stories around the fire to help her tribe stay awake enough to ward off predators. Sprinkled in the plot’s well-paced unfolding are funny and true observations.
There are also some refreshingly complex characters with messy family dynamics. I don’t think it’s too much of a spoiler to say that I’m still thinking about the surprising portrayal of motherhood.
Recommended for fans of fantasy novels, those who enjoy excellent audiobook narration, and those who want to be swept away in a story.
Stay True: A Memoir by Hua Hsu
Hua Hsu’s Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir is billed as being about Hsu’s friendship with fellow (but radically different) Asian American Ken and the grief that follows after Ken’s senseless, violent death in a carjacking. Friendship and grief are indeed a big part of the story, but for me, the book lingers best as a coming-of-age memoir grappling with young adulthood and identity formation.
Hsu is a thoughtful narrator, and he applies his journalism chops and zine experience to create something that stands out in a crowded genre.
Recommended for those interested in memoirs, zines, grief, friendship, identity, growing up first generation, and the Asian American experience.
Browse more books on my Bookshop | Read more reviews on my Goodreads
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