Flow and Deliberate Practice are rather popular concepts these days. This shouldn’t be surprising, as everyone wants to be fulfilled in their work and play, and many people want to become an expert in some domain. However, proponents of each approach appear to be in conflict a lot of the time. On top of that, some people think they are the same thing! I believe that they are separate but compatible: two aspects of the same consistent model.
In an email thread among alumni of CFAR’s rationality workshops, one member commented with a few paragraphs to this effect:
What good SNS* looks like is being in a Flow state. A Flow state is a state in which you are intensely pushing yourself, to the limits of your abilities, toward a goal you are intrinsically motivated to pursue, and receiving frequent and immediate feedback on your progress.
*SNS: for a relevant discussion of the Sympathetic Nervous System, see my earlier post on Againstness Training from a few months ago.
I responded with
I do agree that good SNS looks like what’s described here. At the very least, anything that feels “intense” is almost certainly SNS, and this state you describe is clearly good.
However, I don’t believe this is flow. I think the term you’re looking for is deliberate practice. The turbocharging class/concept [taught by CFAR] is basically a framework for turning anything into deliberate practice.
A fascinating look into a very fundamental part of the psychology of happiness and life satisfaction.
What this exchange reveals, however, is the ambiguity in the word “flow”. When Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi did his original research, the state of balance people were finding during their work was overwhelmingly described by them as “flow”, implying that that is a good word to use for this experience of balance between skill and challenge. It appears, though, that there are false positives: experiences that are not what Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow” but which other people intuitively do. This, I believe, is a key source of the confusion around deliberate practice. The satisfying nature of it and the sense of growth evoke a feeling of flowing in some people.
And so both the canonical Flow, and Deliberate Practice are both sometimes referred to as “flow”.
Much as Csikszentmihalyi is the man behind Flow, there is a man behind Deliberate Practice: K Anders Ericsson, a professor at Florida State University, who has spent years studying how people become experts at something. If you’re thinking 10,000 hours, you’re right. Malcolm Gladwell popularized that idea but it has its origins in Ericsson’s research. What Ericsson discovered is that experts in a given domain have typically spent not just ten thousand hours practising relevant skills in that field, but that they’ve done that practice a certain way. Essentially it boils down to performing at a level slightly beyond what’s comfortable.
(Update 2020-04-07: It also requires adequate feedback loops, and may only apply to certain fields. I’m pretty skeptical of applying the 10,000 hours model to anything other than chess, concert violin, or competitive running/swimming. Basically only in cases where there’s only one thing it means to be an expert.)
One concept from Ericsson’s work that I’m familiar with was exposed to me via Moonwalking with Einstein, a book about memory (which I summarized on actionablebooks.com). Joshua Foer, the author of Moonwalking, called it the OK Plateau, and it occurs because your brain doesn’t want to have to strain. Your brain wants to do things unconsciously, so it tries to learn them so effectively that it doesn’t have to pay attention while you do them. This is great for performance or multitasking (talking while driving, for example) but totally halts learning and improvement, hence it will not get you to expertise.
In the book, Foer has hit a plateau on his times for speed cards (memorizing the order of an entire deck of cards). Ericsson, who is coaching him, recommends he sets a metronome and tries to go just 10-20% faster than his current ability, memorizing a card each time the metronome ticks. This single intervention starts Foer on the path to improvement again, and he goes on to set a U.S. record in speed cards in his first competition.
To help distinguish between flow and deliberate practice, consider this image, which I created based on an chart in Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s book Flow. Flow is described as the state that occurs when skill and challenge are perfectly balanced such that the act is neither straining nor boredom, and only occurs when you’re in the “flow channel” (white, in the diagram). Deliberate practice, on the other hand, requires challenging yourself beyond your current skill level, i.e. going into the Anxiety section (hence SNS). As this diagram illustrates (point #3) there’s a tension that occurs when that happens, forcing you to level up your skills. Obviously you don’t want to make it too challenging, or you’ll be unable to perform without mistakes, at which point you’re practising making mistakes.
I read Flow a few months ago, and many of the examples he gives are clearly not deliberate practice / learning. In fact, they’re things like rural farmers who do their work with a deep sense of presence. Sure, they’re honing their craft, but it’s not the kind of rapid-skill building that turbo-charging / deliberate practice is. It seems self-evident to me that the Flow state at 4 is much more pleasurable than the flow state at 1. This is also supported by the following model from Csikszentmihalyi’s later book, Finding Flow (which I haven’t read; I retrieved the image from Wikipedia). This suggests that deliberate practice, in addition to making your performance more effective (and therefore more valuable, etc.) will also make your performance more enjoyable.
Deliberate practice is rare, because it’s hard work. People will naturally tend towards flow states, which are more enjoyable, but which make for substantially slower learning and growth. Essentially, you want to be performing in a flow state, but training using deliberate practice. Flow is when you’re playing all the way through a piece of music that’s exactly at your skill level; deliberate practice is going over bar 39 thirty-nine times to nail the complex rhythm. Ideally, you’ll probably do a bit of eat.
Flow periods may be necessary for maintaining motivation and big-picture perspective: chess masters may have spent the majority of their time reviewing grand master games, but they typically don’t give up playing games altogether during that time. The key is to find the balance that works best for you: balance between skill and challenge, and between flow and deliberate practice. The following maxim is a pretty good start though:
(Before, during, and essentially after writing this, I discovered several other relevant articles, listed below. They speak in some way to the same point I’m making, but I found I wanted an even more explicit relationship between the concepts. Also, in the interests of my own self-improvement and of making effective models of concepts, I would love to hear what you think about this article! Leave a comment letting me know if this makes sense, or if you think it could be improved.)
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