I recently added something new to my morning routine. I had been revisiting the Positive Intelligence program that I benefited from so much when I took it during COVID. This time, it just wasn’t working that well.
Instead, I’ve taken to spending a few minutes each morning, around the time of my first sip of coffee, just noticing.
That’s it. Noticing the sunlight against the wall of the house next door. The roses in my neighbor’s yard blowing gently. The sound of cars rushing off to work interspersed with the morning birdsong.
I also notice how I feel physically, mentally and emotionally. Some days I’m sleepy. Other days I’m wide awake and thinking about the day ahead. I let myself feel sadness that a good friend recently passed away, mixed with gratitude for the good times we had with her and her family.
Well, not just noticing. There’s another part that’s actually harder.
Noticing without fixing.
Early on, I discovered that I am a RELENTLESS fixer.
“Got a sad thought? Think of a positive time.”
“The flowers in that vase could use some fine tuning…”
Before I know it, I’m moving toward fixing. Still feeling a little full from a good dinner last night? I’ll exercise that much harder today.
It became a morning challenge to continue noticing without fixing.
Most of the time, I think of this drive to fix things as a constructive quality. It’s what’s led me to start new programs to address conditions that needed to change in the lives of people with disabilities. It’s what’s behind my commitment to leadership development. And it probably is a driving force contributing to building a house at this point in my life.
But behind that relentless drive to MAKE THINGS BETTER, I’ve begun to notice judgment and a kind of restlessness.
That’s why this tiny practice has become so important to my wellbeing. It gives me an opportunity to simply “be with” what is, without immediately deciding what should be different.
That doesn’t mean nothing needs fixing. The flowers may actually need rearranging. There are problems that need solving, conditions that need changing, and things that can be made better.
But perhaps there’s value in creating a little space between noticing and acting.
And sometimes, of course, fixing isn’t an option at all. There are losses we can’t undo, circumstances we can’t change, and feelings that don’t need to be converted into better ones. We can simply be with them.
I suspect I’m not the only relentless fixer out there. What about you? What happens when you notice something that could be better? How quickly do you start fixing?
I’d love to hear your experiences. Please leave your thoughts in the Comments below.