Transcriber: Ying Han Reviewer: Tanya Cushman
The whole thing started
when I transitioned
from studying psychology to architecture.
I thought, maybe, one day,
I'll bring these two interests of mine together.
My yoga studio got me thinking.
How is it that this place makes me feel so peaceful?
It can't just be the bamboo on the wall and the fountain in the corner.
And when did this idea and feeling of peacefulness begin?
Was it when I collapsed on my mat after a hectic day
or when I stepped barefoot into the studio
or when I got into my car and started driving to class?
I thought it probably starts even earlier than that.
Perhaps when we set our intention
and we decide,
"I'm going to make this happen."
We've all experienced places of calm,
places like the yoga studio,
and we've experienced places of awe,
times when we drop what we're doing,
pause,
and take in what's happening around us.
We feel our sensations being stimulated,
and we notice that these places make us feel something.
I'm not standing here today to explain how to be more mindful,
because we all innately know how.
I'm not even here to talk about architecture.
My intention today
is to increase our intention,
to notice our surroundings and appreciate them
more often during the day.
We don't even need to go far;
the most pleasant sight might just be out your window.
Some questions I asked were,
How do some places make me feel calm so naturally
but others in such a manufactured way?
Why am I drawn to certain places?
Where do they focus my attention?
And how is a local church similar to the Apple Store?
Let's see. Great.
As I reflected -
so this is a tapestry of USC.
It captures a moment of time in student life.
It was made just a few years ago.
Notice that four of the students are looking down at their cell phones.
What does this mean about our culture today,
and where does this mean we're going?
As I reflected on the tapestry,
I admitted that I'm equally as distracted.
I'm caught between hundreds of messages,
thousands of tasks,
and millions of thoughts.
This prompted a personal social experiment:
I would not use my phone as I walked from place to place.
How do people just wait and not do anything?
The idea of stillness freaked me out.
I began a simple walking meditation.
As I would walk, I would think to myself:
"Now I'm aware of the light;
now I'm aware of that water bottle."
And now I'm aware that my heart is beating pretty quickly.
(Laughter)
On my walks,
I realized that I was often concerned about where I was going,
who I was becoming,
the distant moving from point A to point B.
I really reflected on who I was being.
Thus, today's talk is about being,
about being in our spaces,
about the spaces between places,
about the pause between words,
about the blinks between sights.
I've a deep passion, borderline obsession,
with how design can help us live more mindfully.
It was the topic of my independent research grant abroad.
Mindfulness is about increasing our awareness
of our thoughts, of our bodies,
of our sensations, of our surroundings.
One goal of architecture
is to guide our awareness through the built environment.
Research shows that mindfulness can reduce stress levels,
improve productivity
and even help a doctor be more effective treating his patients.
To better understand the interplay between mindfulness and design,
I began studying sacred spaces.
Were there any design tools that help us get centered?
Any tricks to make us feel calm?
One frequent strategy was to emphasize the path
on the way to our destination.
In other words, to make that arrow longer.
The paths in a Japanese tea garden have regular irregularities.
Each rock is tilted
so we deliberately place our heels then our toes on the rock step by step.
This means that our attention comes back to the physical placement of our foot
rather than letting our mind wander.
And if we are still distracted,
we'll have a pretty immediate sensory awakening by slipping into that water.
These irregularities happen everywhere.
Who has tried texting while walking down the campus center staircase?
Whenever I try,
either I have a typo or I almost trip.
There's just something awkward about it.
The reason is because -
the reason is that this staircase
is not the typical one we're accustomed to.
It curves and the width of the steps vary.
These irregularities are just a few instances and methods
architects can use to slow us down,
to bring our attention right here, right now.
But just as I was walking and taking in my surroundings,
I realized that I needed to slow down other areas of my life as well.
Societal pressures to go go go, build that resume and save the world
were really getting to me.
I wanted my life planned now,
my career now,
my dream job now.
Actually, I wanted mine yesterday.
At the moment, I'm working to be more conscious of my surroundings.
When I'm more in tune with my path,
I'm more concentrated when I arrive at my destination.
So the next question is
how can design engage us?
Upon entering the Gothic cathedral Sainte-Chapelle, in Paris,
many of our senses are stimulated.
First, we have a one-point perspective tunnel vision
towards the all-knowing: the altar.
A cathedral is a place we come to with questions
and seek resolution.
Second, the stained-glass facade filters light into the space.
We can almost feel the ambience created.
And third, there are icons that we can recognize.
To my surprise and maybe to yours,
this wasn't too different than our everyday Apple Store.
Again, view towards the all-knowing,
crystal-clear glass facade,
and an icon with an undeniable meaning.
You might ask,
what does this have anything to do with mindfulness?
Well, when was the last time you walked into a space
and noticed "I'm aware of this,"
"I'm aware of that,"
and "This is how it makes me feel"?
These are just -
all I'm doing is pointing out some simple methods
that architects can use to draw our attention
without us even realizing it.
According to the EPA - the Environmental Protection Agency -
Americans spend 90% or more of their time indoors.
So it's in our best interest to realize how these buildings affect our psyche.
I asked a few more questions, comparing these two buildings:
What do we value?
Back in the day, glory was in the ornamentation,
in the intricacies,
in the hand craftsmanship;
today glory is in the simplicity,
in the clarity.
We want to clear our spaces and our minds of clutter.
Back then, we looked up at the ceiling.
We celebrated height.
We had the magic of creating something so grand.
Now we look down.
We revel in the thinness - the magic of creating something so small.
How do these branded environments affect us?
Compared to your small cosy living room, these buildings are expansive.
They evoke wonder.
Back then, the taller the cathedral, the closer we were to God.
Now, the more Mac products we have, or the better we know them,
the closer we are to geniuses.
How do these spaces engage us?
They give us things to play with.
We don't just look around: we interact with our environment.
We light candles in the cathedral.
We light monitors in the Apple Store.
These physical activities bring our minds to something tangible
as opposed to wandering thoughts.
However, I must admit that these designs can only do so much.
It's up to us to be engaged.
It's up to us to bring our attention to these activities.
It's up to us to do it intentionally.
How much should we see?
When we enter these two spaces,
our whole game plan is mapped out for us.
We can see our final destination - the altar or the genius bar -
and we can see the path that we think we're going to take to get there.
Along the way, we meander, we bump into people, we engage,
and these are perhaps the more memorable experiences.
If you are given the choice,
would you want a similar game plan mapped out for your life?
Or do you want to meander and carve out your own path?
Just like many of you,
I was stuck when I was choosing the path I would take.
It was scary.
But uncertainty isn't the most exciting.
So the idea of knowing where we're going isn't necessarily the goal.
Getting there in the quickest, most efficient way possible
isn't necessarily the best way.
So it's up to us to decide how we live our lives.
Bottom line,
I invite you to open your eyes,
open your ears,
and open yourselves to the world around you.
Next time you find yourself at point B,
maybe walk a little bit more mindfully.
We'll see where this path takes us.
And next time you find yourself looking down
or maybe even too far ahead,
I invite you to look up and to look out.
Thank you.
(Applause)