Body Double

The secret way to get more things done. Or, get better things done.

There are a thousand great books on forming better habits, finding focus, and seeing the bigger picture. I love a system – I’m a sucker for all of them. 

It has famously been said that we don't resist doing tasks, we resist discomfort. The paper, the cleaning, the project is not the issue. It’s facing our boredom, fear of failure, and fidgety nature.

And so, strangers help me get things done, and make me a better mother.  And possibly make me more fit. 

Getting things done is lonely work. 

When my daughter was in high school, she wanted company while she did her homework.  I would start out on the couch, reading…then lie down on the couch, reading, er, ok, dozing.  Eventually I would get out the sleeping bag, and sleep on the floor as she worked well past my bedtime.  Apparently, even a sleeping companion is better than nothing. 

She told me recently that as soon as I fell asleep, she would pack it in for the night, so maybe this didn’t work out as well as I thought. 

“Body double” is a term I’ve learned since then.  As a productivity strategy, the presence of another person brings calm.  Having someone sit there – no advice, no words, even – helps us focus. 

The body double doesn’t even need to know their role.  When a friend and I walked a half-marathon, we saw a woman with a sign on her back that announced a time goal.  We caught up with her and followed her for a long time, moving faster than we would have without her.  When we ended up talking to her, we confessed.  “Oh, that,” she said, “reaching around behind her to rip off the sign.  I forgot about that.”  That finishing time was no longer a goal, apparently.  Choose your body double wisely. 

When I had a baby, there was lots of advice about feeding and sleeping, and not much about the inner work of being a parent.  I was terrified of being mean to my child.  When I voiced this to a wise friend, she asked a few judicious questions.  “You’ll figure out how to be a blessing to your child,” she said. 

Oh, that’s the work, I thought.  It’s not about carrots, and manners, and limited screen time; the job is to be a blessing to the kid, in whatever way they need. 

I watched the mothers among my hospice patients to see what they did.  Watching them with their adult kids taught me a lot about patience, taking a long view and restraint.  They showed me when to speak up and when to keep quiet, how to offer acceptance and show love. 

Little tiny Italian ladies and wise Black women, bedridden people and those dying too young taught me how to be a better parent, partner and friend.  Their gifts of encouragement linger on.  In our lives, body doubles are all around, offering their secret inspiration.