Intrinsic motivation is a term used to describe the incentive we feel to complete a task simply because we find it interesting or enjoyable. Extrinsic motivation is what we feel when we complete a task for some external reward.
—Stefan Falk, "Understanding the Power of Intrinsic Motivation,
the Harvard Business Review
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She is drinking coffee at the window, looking outward,—looking, in fact, at a house that's kitty-corner from hers, across the street. It is a worn house, bedraggled and a little neglected looking. The grass needs to be mowed.
In her mind, she changes that house; she transforms it. She paints the siding a soft grey; she puts crisp white trim on the windows, and she chooses pretty shutters. She paints the door a lovely magenta. She hangs a wreath.
She mows the lawn, and, since it is mid-August, she plants brilliant mums in the ground, and she buys huge containers of them, too, to stack, creating mounds of vibrant flowers that look soft and furry enough to pet—that exact magenta again, and gold, and white.
Satisfied with her imagined project, she lets the curtain fall back when one of the people who lives in that house opens the door and points a key fob at the little black Honda in the drive. She does not want to be caught peeping.
She turns to take her coffee cup, dump it out in the sink, put it in the dishwasher. She doesn't notice how badly her floor needs vacuuming; there are threads and breakfast crumbs on the rug, and those little paper shards that fly when someone rips a piece of paper from a spiral bound notebook. The flowers in the vase on the table are shedding yellow petals.
The rug's a mess, but she never looks down; she's looking outward.
It's too bad, too bad, she doesn't look down at her feet.
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A different woman: this one is the director of a program that helps people whose lives have completely derailed get back on track. She is in a meeting with potential supporters; she is explaining their methods.
"Each week," she says, "we meet with clients individually. They set goals. Not huge goals, but things they can do, consistently, within a week's time. When they master those goals, that becomes the foundation for new goals, things that build on what's already been done."
A listener, a large, red-faced man whose shirt stretches tight across his belly, is rolling a shiny silver pen in his palms.
"Do you reward them?" he asks.
"Reward them?" The director cocks her head, inquiringly.
"Yes!" he says. "If the client achieves the goal, do you give them something? A gift card? A pizza?"
"Noooo…" says the director slowly, reluctantly. "But we could. We could think about doing that."
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I've been thinking about the words 'extrinsic' and 'intrinsic' this week, having just read them in a chapter about how to become more effective, more engaged, and more efficient. The online Oxford dictionary gives me these definitions:
Extrinsic (adj.) not part of the essential nature of someone or something; coming or operating from the outside. From the late Latin extrinsecus, 'outward.'
Intrinsic (adj.) belonging naturally; essential. From the late Latin intrinsecus, 'inwardly, inwards.'
And I've been thinking that so much of what we encounter, so many things, drive us to look for the outward rewards these days.
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I thought about that leader in that meeting, and I thought that maybe the man with the silver pen had a big heart and a good impulse. But is giving those clients a little reward the best recipe for changing behavior?
Or, is it possible that having the stamina and drive to accomplish those weekly goals becomes a kind of reward in itself? So that, at the end of the week, the client says, "Look at that. I did that! It's small; I'm taking baby steps, but I accomplished this myself.
"Maybe," she thinks, "maybe I really am in this for the long haul."
But then she meets with her counselor, who makes a big deal out of those goals so nicely met, and the counselor reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a gift card to a nice local restaurant.
"Good work," says the counselor. "Great work. Here's a reward."
And the baby-stepper looks at the gift card and says thank you. But suddenly the accomplishment is no longer just hers to savor. Suddenly her work belongs to other people, too.
And, "Hmm," she thinks, and she smiles sweetly at her counselor. "Do I get a prize every time I met a goal?"
The focus has become outward, shifted from intrinsic to extrinsic.
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This is not to say that providing incentives is a bad thing. Maybe the pleasure of outward reward morphs, over time, into the inward satisfaction of achievement. (I think I remember reading, in a long-ago college psych class, though, that when there's a reward every time, the recipient learns to expect that external validation. The danger is, then, that they're not appreciative of the prize; they're resentful when the inevitable time comes that no reward is available.)
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I am pondering the role of my computer, especially, this week. It offers me both intrinsic and extrinsic rewards.
I write on my computer, putting words together, then shaking them up and rearranging them. I can, if I want, when the words line up in a way that makes me happy (or at least satisfied), upload drawings and sketches, and I can import them into documents and illustrate my thoughts graphically. And I can use search engines to find articles from respected sources that validate what I'm trying to hard to say. I can quote those experts; I can hope the quotes strengthen my points.
When I do this, when I focus my attention and intention on what I want to express, the computer can be an ally in creating something very personal—something that taps into my thoughts and feelings.
The computer is something, then, that helps me reach inward. It gives me tools to create.
But then…having done a little typing, I decide I've earned a little free time. A little FUN. I open up Firefox and I pull up Greenfelt, and I click on Freecell. I begin to play. When I have beaten the Freecell game, I move on to traditional solitaire, and from there I head over to Forty Thieves.
I play and play, and I realize it's been 45 minutes…a nice span of time in which I could have mixed up a batch of cookies or put the ingredients for a loaf of gluten free oatmeal bread into the bread machine. I could have trimmed the front hedge. I could have vacuumed a rug.
Instead, though, like a well-trained puppy, I have put my paws in front of me, panting happily when the computer congratulates me on a win. Yay, me! I am so clever!
When the 45 minutes are over, I feel like I've overindulged on M&M's. I have nothing tangible to show for my binge, and my stomach feels ever so slightly sick.
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Usually, I do three things in the wee morning hours: I march through my twenty minute workout; I play my daily computer word games; I write my morning pages.
This week, though, I had two very early morning meetings, leaving only enough time to do two of the three morning rituals before I grabbed my lunch and headed out the door. I had a big internal struggle, and finally, the first day, the better angel won. I ditched the computer games, did my exercises, and sat down to write my morning pages.
And maybe because I opted for the writing, maybe because I had a little sense of sacrificing to do something of importance, the words flowed more easily and the thoughts seemed more coherent, and, when I left for work, my boney chamber felt swept clean, sticky cobwebs removed for the time being.
I had a little glow of self-congratulation. And I thought to myself, this,—this here—this is an intrinsic reward.
I get nice little rewards when I do well at computer word games, too—electronic medals and confetti that flies when I succeed and comparisons (You ranked #2 out of 2114 players!!!!) Extrinsic rewards, which sometimes feel very good.
This week, though, I realized that the repeated playing of games is more akin, for me, to a sedative than a challenge.
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So much calls my gaze outward—the unsolicited emails for recipes and news outlets and low interest loans that, although I never signed up in the first place, I have to unsubscribe from to make them disappear from my inbox.
Articles on the server I use, advertised as "Words that make you think." And of course, I want to think, to think and to stay informed.
Facebook feed where 'friends' argue about truths about politicians and issues and problems, each adamantly sure their view is the correct one. (Often Facebook is where they read about the truths they argue so passionately to support…)
Online videos with puppies, quick and easy recipes, and babies doing outrageously cute things.
I can lose myself in these seductive things, lose my focus, wander down rabbit holes.
I'm chasing some extrinsic reward and forgetting what I hoped to accomplish in the meantime.
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Often I will justify the fact that something I'd like to accomplish didn't get down.
"I just," I will say, "didn't have time."
But that, really, isn't true. The time was there, but I spent it on something different: something that promised external benefits.
When I received those benefits, they were not nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped they would be.
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It's funny, in a not very haha way, that, as I write these words, I have the nagging urge to close up the IPad, head to the laptop, pull up Greenfelt and play some card games. There is, I think, a little addictive tendency in play here, and I need to keep awake, be aware, fight for balance. Time to find my old recipe for pecan pie bars and see about making a gluten-free version.
Time to sort recipes in general, plan some meals, clear away clutter that jumbles my thoughts.
Time to reach for mindfulness and intrinsic motivation, to feel the satisfaction that is its own reward.
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It's time, for me, to turn my eyes homeward, to look at where my feet are; to look at what's right around me. To look at what's right within me, too.
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