I’m writing this from Thailand, where I’ve been settling into a new rhythm of life. Recently, I found myself in a small boat on a quiet pond, surrounded by lily pads. The water was still. The air was warm. Everything was peaceful.
And yet, within minutes, my mind was somewhere else entirely—scanning, searching, problem-solving.
Even when everything is fine, my mind still goes looking for the next problem.
The Pattern Becomes Visible
It made me wonder: is this who I am, a natural worrier or relentless problem-solver? Or is this simply a habit I’ve practiced for decades without noticing?
My recent transition has made this pattern impossible to ignore. I wake up. Life is objectively good. There are no urgent issues to deal with. And yet my mind immediately starts scanning for something to fix.
In my corporate life, this habit was useful. As a senior leader in a fast-paced environment, I was rewarded for anticipating risks, identifying issues early, and staying one step ahead. That same pattern helped me succeed. It kept me sharp, prepared, and valuable.
But I’m seeing now that the mind that kept me effective is also the mind that keeps me restless.
When Space Reveals What Was Hidden
It took a surprising amount of space to see this clearly. Only when there were no immediate problems left on my plate did the habit become obvious. The mind kept searching anyway. Not because there was anything wrong, but because searching had become familiar.
This is what happens when we remove the noise: the patterns we’ve been running on autopilot suddenly become visible.
For years, there was always something that genuinely needed attention. A deadline. A difficult conversation. A decision that couldn’t wait. The problem-seeking mind had plenty to work with, and I mistook its constant activity for necessary vigilance.
But here, in this new context, with space to breathe and reflect, I can finally see it for what it is: a habit. One that no longer serves me the way it once did.
The Practice of Not Engaging
That realization changed something.
Instead of following the thought, I began to watch it arise. To breathe. To notice the urge to engage, and gently not act on it. The thought would pass, and with it, a small release of tension.
It’s not automatic yet. I still have to practice. But the grip is loosening.
What I’m learning is this: the mind doesn’t need a problem to solve. It needs something familiar.
And when familiarity changes, behavior follows.
The practice itself is simple, though not always easy:
Notice when the mind starts searching
Observe the physical sensation that accompanies it (for me, it’s often tension in my chest or shoulders)
Breathe, consciously and deliberately
Resist the urge to engage with the thought
Watch it pass
Sometimes it passes quickly. Sometimes it lingers. But each time I practice, the pattern weakens just a little.
What This Means for Leadership
In leadership, it’s easy to mistake urgency for importance. The racing mind thrives on reactivity, jumping from one issue to the next. We tell ourselves we’re being proactive, strategic, ahead of the curve.
But often, we’re just feeding the habit.
I suspect many leaders carry this same pattern, mistaking noise for necessity. I know I did. For years, I believed that constant vigilance was what made me effective. And in some ways, it was. But it also kept me from seeing clearly, from responding thoughtfully, from making space for what actually mattered.
Yet it’s often in the pause, in clarity and consideration, that better options appear.
When we’re caught in the momentum of problem-solving mode, we see a narrower range of possibilities. We default to familiar solutions. We move quickly, but not always wisely.
Lately, I’ve been experimenting with creating space before responding. Not to avoid action, but to improve it. And I’m noticing how different the outcomes can be.
A question I now ask myself regularly: Is this truly urgent, or does it just feel familiar?
That simple distinction has changed how I approach decisions, conversations, and even how I structure my days.
The Invitation
If you’re in leadership, particularly senior leadership, I’d invite you to notice your own patterns:
Do you find yourself scanning for problems even when things are going well?
Does your mind struggle to settle when there’s nothing urgent demanding your attention?
Have you confused constant activity with effectiveness?
These aren’t signs of weakness or poor leadership. They’re signs of a well-trained mind that’s been rewarded for vigilance. But that doesn’t mean the pattern still serves you.
The good news is that what’s been practiced can be unpracticed. What’s become habitual can be observed, questioned, and slowly released.
It starts with noticing. With creating enough space to see the pattern clearly. And then, gently, choosing not to engage.
What patterns are you noticing in your own leadership? I'd be curious to hear what arises for you.