The Habit That Shapes Our Lives.
As a habit transformation coach, I recently faced a thought-provoking question: After nearly two decades of turning my struggles with smoking, drinking, opioids, and junk food into a healthier lifestyle—one I’ve maintained through numerous health, relationship, and economic crises—do I still make New Year’s resolutions for habits I want to change?
I spent years fine-tuning my diet, sleep, productivity, and relationships. I explored various diets, tracked macros and sleep patterns, underwent detoxes and cleanses, streamlined tasks, devoured self-help literature, and participated in retreats and therapy. Each approach helped me in different ways at different times.
However, despite the drastic transformations in my life, I can still spiral into the vortex of self-improvement—the relentless treadmill of progress—feeling perpetually behind, scrambling to catch up with some ideal version of myself that seems to have it all together.
Life is busy and messy. Between my demanding career, parenting my 11-year-old, prioritizing my physical and mental health, and navigating the uncharted waters of co-parenting with my former partner, the chaos often overwhelms me.
Despite years of meditation and therapy that have granted me profound experiences of spacious awareness and stillness, I’ve discovered that no amount of optimization can prevent the inevitable: disagreements with my partner over daily routines or finances, my daughter’s meltdowns, and the exhaustion that amplifies every challenge.
But I’ve begun to notice patterns in these moments. When my partner leaves dirty dishes in the sink or uses that tone, I feel a familiar heat rise in my chest. When someone cuts me off in traffic, my teeth clench. When my daughter refuses to do her chores, my jaw tightens. Often, before I realize it, I’ve snapped, uttering something harsh and creating distance when I long for closeness.
Later, in the quiet aftermath of these arguments, I find myself pondering: What just happened? Where did I go in that moment?
While I can observe my thoughts with clarity on the cushion of my meditation practice, in the messy reality of conflict, I often get swept away before I can respond thoughtfully. My expectations of my partner, my identity as a patient mother, my beliefs about fairness and respect—they aren’t abstract concepts. They live in my body, driving me into reaction before I have the opportunity to choose differently.
On the surface, my life appears well-managed. I maintain a strong meditation practice and solid daily routines. Yet, internal storms still emerge, especially in the moments I can’t control—during conflicts, when relationships are strained, and in the chaos of everyday life.
It’s become clear to me: there’s one habit that truly matters.
Not exercise. Not nutrition. Not even the popular notion of mindfulness as it’s often defined.
It’s the habit of attention.
I’ve realized that there’s both a wrong way to pay attention and a right way. How I direct my attention, moment to moment, day after day, determines whether my life is filled with small joys or feels like a relentless grind. It affects whether I’m present with my daughter or distracted by invisible urgencies. It shapes whether I respond with wisdom or react from old wounds.
The distinction between right attention and wrong attention may sound dramatic, but I genuinely believe it’s the difference between living a life of deep connection and one of constant grasping.
We’re Living Through an Epidemic of Distraction
It’s easy to blame technology for our collective inability to focus, and yes, our devices don’t help. But the issue runs deeper than mere screens.
Throughout most of human history, our attention was rooted in survival—growing food, safeguarding children, navigating without GPS. Every moment demanded our presence because the stakes were high.
Then came automation. Machines liberated us from tasks that once consumed our focus. We were promised freedom, more time, more ease, and space to rest. Instead, we find ourselves feeling rushed, more anxious than ever.
Data reveals that despite unprecedented automation and convenience, we perceive we have less time. We’re stressed, anxious, sleeping poorly, and living under constant time pressure. Ironically, the more automated our lives become, the unhappier we are.
Why is that?
In my coaching experience, I’ve observed that when our attention was anchored to essential tasks, we didn’t have to choose where to focus—it was dictated by survival. Once freed from those demands, we struggled to determine how to direct our attention.
We weren’t taught how to rest, savor, or simply be. Instead, we filled that newly freed-up space in the only way we knew how: with more—more consumption, more comparison, more stimulation. This frantic pursuit of pleasure never quite satisfies because we’re not truly present for any of it.
We don’t lack time. We lack the skill to be present with the time we have. Without that skill, every productivity hack or optimization is merely rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
The Signs of Wrong Attention
I recognize I’m practicing wrong attention when:
I’m always rushing to catch up, feeling behind
I’m stressed, exhausted, and struggling to sleep
I can’t control impulses (scrolling, snacking, shopping)
I’m either numb or frantic, never steady
I fill every free moment with distraction
My thoughts race, and I react instead of respond
Wrong attention feels scattered, intermittent, and unstable—living outside my own life, watching it unfold from a distance while simultaneously drowning in it.
What Right Attention Actually Feels Like
Right attention embodies three essential qualities that I strive to practice moment by moment:
Full Awareness: I can observe any thought, sensation, or emotion in all its depth and breadth. For instance, when my daughter again asks for a snack before dinner, instead of snapping, I recognize the tightness in my jaw and the heat of irritation. I acknowledge the narrative I’m telling myself ("She never listens") without immediately reacting.
Endurance: I can remain present with discomfort without fleeing or numbing. I stay with the heat in my chest and rising irritation without reacting, allowing the experience to be present without it overwhelming me.
Release: I can let go of mental burdens when holding onto them becomes harmful. I notice the story "She never listens" losing its grip, my jaw softening, and from this clearer place, I can respond kindly yet firmly to my daughter: "I know you’re hungry, but dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."
Right attention isn’t the same as concentration. A sniper has concentration. A thief has focus. A surgeon has precision.
But right attention is different. It’s wide, steady, and kind. It observes, holds, and releases—it encompasses both laser focus and broad awareness simultaneously.
When we practice this attention, transformation begins.
What Changes When We Pay Attention Differently
Our nervous system calms. We feel anchored in our bodies instead of anxiously floating above them.
Our minds stop ping-ponging between past regrets and future anxieties, allowing us to be present even when "here" isn’t particularly pleasant. We gain the space to pause before responding, choosing our actions rather than impulsively reacting.
Life becomes less turbulent—at home and work—not because we suppress emotions, but because we act from a place of clarity instead of impulse.
Surprisingly, compassion and generosity emerge naturally. When I’m fully present, I’m less consumed by my own narrative—I can see the bigger picture: how I contribute to a situation, how others experience it, and what might genuinely help.
I can practice wisdom instead of warfare.
To Be Clear About What This Isn’t
This isn’t a panacea. If you’re sleep-deprived, attention practice won’t magically cure exhaustion (though it may help prioritize sleep). If you’re in an abusive situation, mindfulness won’t make it safe (though it can clarify your path to leave).
Distraction can sometimes be a refuge. In moments of crisis, scrolling through social media may be your only coping mechanism—and that’s okay.
This practice isn’t about achieving perfect presence 24/7. It’s about cultivating the capacity to choose presence when it truly matters.
If You Would Like to Practice
You don’t need to overhaul your entire life to begin.
Start small: Choose one daily activity (like brushing your teeth or making coffee) and commit to bringing your full attention to it for a few minutes. Notice the sensations. Acknowledge when your mind drifts to your to-do list or yesterday’s conversations. Gently bring it back. No judgment—just practice.
Then ask yourself: Where in my life am I rushing the most?
What would it feel like to practice right attention there, even for ten minutes?
At bedtime with my daughter, I’m learning to practice right attention. Instead of mentally drafting my to-do list while she shares her day, I place my hand on her back and truly listen. Some nights I succeed; many nights, I falter. But I’m cultivating the capacity—not to fix anything, not to achieve perfection—just to be fully present with what is.
That’s the habit that decides everything else.
This kind of inner work is what I explore in my Chain of Habits workshops, where habit change is approached through understanding, not control. If you want to explore this deeper, feel free to join the waiting list here.