The Flow State

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flow_(psychology)

Read through the list of elements of a flow state:

I'd ask the reverse question. How often does someone neurotypical enter into the flow state?

A fancy way of saying 'putting on the game face.' or 'found my groove'. or 'in the zone'. I can get there easily and I have been looked at like a freak and told 'that's not normal.'

I wrote a story about this once but it was intended for NT readers:

This story was inspired by a dinner conversation with my friend Jill.

In the Zone at Twilight

Somewhere in rural forested America the week before Thanksgiving...

Joe was absentmindedly listening to some sports show on TV while feeding his wood stove. The commentator talked about how athletes would sometimes get into a zone where they could do no wrong. Names like "Larry Bird" and "Joe Montana" were mentioned. Joe believed that such a zone existed, he'd experienced it twice himself that he could recall. The first time was the Thanksgiving game of his senior year at high school. His team was up by one point with no time left but the other team was about to attempt a two point conversion. Joe remembered it like it was yesterday, time slowed down to a crawl, he saw the ball snapped, he slipped through two lineman as if they were motionless and sacked the opposing quarterback to end the game. Onlookers told him later that it was unbelievable how fast he'd busted through that line and the whole play seemed to take less than a second. To Joe that play seemed to last forever.

Joe adjusted the flue to his stove and walked over to a window of his cabin to take a peek outside. Twilight was fast approaching as he eyed the chicken coop he maintained for himself and a few neighbors. He'd recently lost two chickens to what he suspected was a coyote. He'd seen one in the area at this time of day before, it looked like it was getting on years not moving as fast as it used to and maybe not seeing as well either. That's the kind of Coyote that steals your chickens when its still light out he reasoned. Joe scanned the treeline beyond the chicken coop and thought back to the other time he'd experienced that zone. He was in Fallujah clearing a building with his squad. They'd worked their way up to the roof and were about to go back down when a sniper bullet exploded part of a door frame scant inches from Joe's head. Time seemed to freeze, Joe whirled and sighted a prone sniper on a high-rise balcony, he brought his M4 carbine to bear, got a site picture and squeezed off a burst. He saw the enemy sniper clutch at his shoulder and stumble to his feet looking like he was going to flee inside. That was a mistake because that sniper was 1500 meters away and there's no way Joe could make that shot again, he could go through all the ammo his squad had and not make that shot again. The sniper went from appearing to be a pile of burlap rags to appearing to be an enemy sniper to USMC snipers who were scanning for enemy snipers. Joe watched as the enemy sniper's head disappeared and was replaced by a puff of red mist. Joe couldn't believe what had happened, he shouldn't have been able to even find that sniper yet he had and he'd also managed to pull off an impossible shot.

Joe was brought back into the present when he spotted that coyote sauntering down from the tree line towards his chicken coop. "Son of a b***h." He muttered as grabbed his .22 rifle and went out his front door quietly. He moved quietly around the cabin to rest his rifle on top of his firewood pile. The coyote was pawing at the dirt under the chicken coop fence. "Stay right there, that's right" Joe thought as he squeezed off a shot. Dirt kicked up just shy of the coyote and it bolted off into the forest out of sight behind a rise of trees almost immediately. "Damn it!" cursed Joe as he sprinted off after it. Joe knew he didn't have much of a chance of catching or sighting the coyote again but anger propelled him into the forest. Joe sprinted a good 400 yards through the thick brush before coming up on an old trail and resting. He cursed under his breath with one hand on a knee and the other hand still clutching his little .22 rifle.

After a minute or so Joe thought he felt something watching him. He glanced around, darkness was approaching quickly and visibility was diminishing. He got uneasy thinking he should head back now, but part of him insisted on knowing what was watching him. He turned in slow circles trying to spot something, but nothing was apparent. It was dead quiet. Just as he was about to give up he glanced up and stopped motionless. It wouldn't be correct to say that he saw something up in the trees, he didn't, but he almost saw something. He saw the suggestion, the shadow of something. If you've ever crossed the street and made eye contact with someone driving a car even though you could barely see them you know the feeling Joe had right now. He was making eye contact with something up in the trees that he couldn't quite see.

It broke eye contact and moved. Joe could hear it more than see it. From one tree to another it moved, the branches and leaves rustled with its passage, time seemed to go into slow motion for Joe. It was going to cross the trail up ahead Joe somehow knew, his intuition seemed to increase as time slowed down. Joe brought his .22 rifle to bear, aiming it where he knew his target was going to cross the trail between two large overhanging trees ahead. Joe squeezed off a shot. His target crashed into the tree across the trail and came tumbling down through the branches to hit the ground with a loud thump. Joe closed the gap quickly and stared disbelieving.

He saw a large creature laying motionless on the trail. It was easily three times his size and Joe figured the fall must have hurt it more than his little .22 rifle. It looked sort of like an Orangutan but it was much larger and it's face seemed almost human. Its eyes were closed and Joe moved closer to see if it was alive. Joe stepped back as he could see the creature's barrel chest rise and lower with breathing. Joe struggled with his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Should he kill it? He could empty his rifle into its head or throat he thought. But it seemed wrong. Who would believe him? "Can I get my camera and make it back here?" he thought. Joe turned to leave and heard rustling behind him. He turned back to look at the creature again but he already knew what he was going to see. The creature was gone.

The next morning Joe opened his front door and found a dead coyote on his doorstep, apparently strangled.

I think autistic people are more predisposed to the flow state due to a generally more intense experience of emotion, which is what leads to obsessive interests.

I did this yesterday, playing a Phoenix Wright game for five hours. I enjoyed it, but it felt strange.

I can also get their easily. I do it all the time.

Recently I've been too distracted and distractable to enter a steady flow state.