Conscious Living letter #7

Time dilation, emotions are data, AI and something heavy

Dear Conscious Reader

It's been a long time since I wrote a letter. How have you been? How is life living consciously?

It had been a while since we returned from Malaysia—yet somehow, it felt like yesterday too.

How does time flow? It dilates and contracts, depending on the state of the person who experienced it.

I once did bungee jumping in New Zealand at the world’s first commercial bungee operation at Kawarau Bridge.

I stood at the bridge's ledge—the wind cut through me as I stared ahead into the horizon. A tug at my straps pulled my attention back. A lady was busy securing the bungee straps on me. My eyes darted back quickly to survey the area, my feet cold and my body stiff.

“Ok, ready?” she called loudly over the roaring wind. I stepped back, blinking rapidly as I made eye contact with her.

“Really? Is it safe?” I asked¹. She nodded firmly and gave me a tug at the strap between my shoulder blades, gently nudging me to go.

My leg bent without me bending it, and I jumped off the bridge without me jumping off.

Then I froze mid-air, arms spread out beside me. My eyes widened, taking in the clear blue sky, the rushing crystal blue river meandering through the green valley flanked by mountains. My body hung there, weightless, long enough to enjoy it all.

My view slowly changed to face the river. I noticed an orange raft with people waiting for my imminent arrival. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I plunged face-first into the rapid currents.

Then the rope went taut, breaking my fall. I swung a few times like a pendulum, with blurs of blue and green. I released the tension and let my body hang loose until the people on the boat pulled me in.

Later, I would view my jump again from a recorded video. In the footage, I jumped, screamed instantly as I plunged, and then swung like a ragdoll—barely eight seconds from start to finish.

Bungee Jumping at Kawarau Bridge, NZ. Photo by Sung Jin Cho on Unsplash

Time dilated for me as I faced an existential threat and a significant moment of awe. It felt like minutes when it was only seconds. I even had the time to tell myself to enjoy the view.

For the past eight weeks, I have experienced both time dilation and the usual speeding of time.

When we live mindfully, time dilates, too. Sitting in the half-lotus position, concentrating on your breath and nothing else, ten minutes of meditation may feel like a long time.

Hopefully, with the training behind me, I can return to my regular rhythm here and experience my usual time progression.

Thank you for your patience, and as always, I appreciate you taking the time to read.

Consciously yours, Rachel

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For conscious living

Emotions are data

I first heard the phrase “emotions are data” at the kickoff of my leadership training. It immediately resonated with many of us. Then yesterday, I came across the exact phrase again—this time in a podcast episode by Dr. Laurie Santos (The Happiness Podcast) featuring Susan David.

Key takeaways from the podcast:

1. Emotions are data; so listen to them.

2. Name your emotions accurately. Instead of generic “I am stressed”, be specific—are you overwhelmed, disappointed, or frustrated? The more specific you are, the more accurate your emotional data becomes.

3. Create distance from your emotions. Rather than saying “I am disappointed”, say “I notice that I’m feeling disappointed”. Then ask: What is this feeling telling me? What should I do with this information?

Once again, this quote from Viktor Frankl is mentioned—“Between stimulus and response lies a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose a response. In our response lies our growth and our happiness.”

Then the next morning, I woke up to the Marginalian newsletter on Viktor Frankl talking about the choices we can make internally.

Is this synchronicity? It feels like the universe is gently repeating this message from different directions. It's time I embrace that elusive space between emotion and reaction.

For writing

Using AI

There’s been a lot of buzz lately about using AI in writing.

Tiffany Chu

asked us in a thread how we used it, and then I came across

Sarah Fay - SW@W

’s advice to create a personal AI policy. There were also various takes on AI around the Substackverse, and I am intrigued to see how people use and view AI.

I use AI daily, mostly like a personal assistant: researching, tracking fitness and nutrition, translating text, and sometimes as a brainstorming partner or sounding board. When it comes to writing, I use AI mostly as a proofreader. I ask it to check for flow, redundancies, and mistakes, but I specifically request not to change anything. I don’t have a hard stance on AI in writing, but I agree that nothing beats human creativity, at least not yet. So I always start by creating on my own, and only bring AI in afterward to support the refinement process.

The Cat in the Tree: Why AI Content Leaves Us Cold

Doing what you love in the age of AI

For sharing

Make something heavy by

Anu Atluru

I have been thinking about lightness versus heaviness lately, which I’ll post about next. This article spoke about heaviness from a different perspective. Anu described the internet as light, with value often placed on short messages and fleeting images. On Substack, the lightest part is Notes. She said many light things don’t add to heavy things, and we all, in essence, crave to create something heavy. For example, instead of continuing to post content endlessly, we yearn to write a book, a masterpiece.

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In case you’ve missed my essays in the past two months

New Year, old memories

In search of awe

The parts of me I didn't choose

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1. Probably one of the silliest questions I’ve asked in my life.